Karamakov•Tom Riddle FanFiction

Go Your Own Way

When he speaks to them, he speaks lies; when he speaks to her, who knows.

During half term, Tom took them back to Little Hangleton, this time apparating Kenna on-top a hill that overlooked the village.

From this view, that dingy village looked much more appealing, however, she still turned to scowl at him.

Admittedly, Kenna had been looking forward to Tom taking her away; not because of the reason they were here, but because Hogwarts had quickly become suffocating.

There were too many faces that she wanted to avoid, the constant reminder of how it seemed to be a safe haven for every Witch and Wizard but her.

There was no solice within them castle walls - not even with Tom.

He looked at her differently know, as if there were no forces on earth separating them. Kenna supposed he had gotten what he wanted; her, stripped of everything she had and loved but him.

It unnerved her, but not because it made her want to leave him.

Because it made her want to stay. Because it made her believe she's made the right choice. Despite everything...

"Come on," Tom said, taking Kenna's hand and leading her down the hill.

They walked through a forested area that smelled of mildew and rain before coming out onto a cobblestone path, framed prettily by mowed grass.

It was on that path that Kenna noticed the house - no, the manor that they seemed headed towards.

Tom must have noticed her hesitation because his grip tightened and his pace increased, determined and unwilling to be opposed.

As expected, they made their way to the front door, wider than may front door had any need to be, and Kenna's heart wrenched into her throat when Tom pulled about a key and unlocked it.

The grand door opened to reveal an even grander foyer, decorated with timeless elegance. When Tom nudged her, Kenna took a stumbling step forward, her mind too warped to protest when he guided her on a tour.

Each room seemed to be more unbelievable than the last had been. It was stunning, yes - expensive, definitely - but it was far too spacious to ever feel like a home.

There was a coldness in the air, accentuated by the marble decorated the floors and the counters. Kenna furiously thought the urge to shiver.

"Do you like it?" Tom asked, pulling her through to what looked like a music room.

Kenna observed him cautiously. "It's a bit... big."

"Well," his dismissive shrug deepened her suspicions, "you have been living in a dorm for more than seven years."

"Why are we talking about living?"

"Do you like it?" he repeated, and Kenna pulled his hand to a stop, forcing him to turn at look at her.

It didn't take long for her put all the pieces together - the gleam in his eye, the ownership in his step - and it didn't take Tom long to see that she had.

Before Kenna could begin, he drew her waist to his, trailing his hands up to cup her cheeks. Standing like this together, in the dim light of the ridiculous room, filled Kenna with something unfamiliar and uneasy.

"According to the principles of inheritance, it is mine by birthright," Tom mumbled as he kissed the frown between her eyebrows.

"Whenever you find it necessary to justifying your actions as if you're apologising for them, then it is likely not a good thing that you've done."