the seven virtues [tom riddle]

chapter five

thank you @supremegae for this amazing gif and, of course, the covers!

CHAPTER FIVE

Her cheek warmed up from the morning beams of sunshine, the sound of birds twittering invading her auditory realm long before her eyelashes waved open. Varya scrunched her nose as dawn settled over the Malfoy Manor, nature resounding along to the early hours, and the witch pushed her hair out of her face before stretching long limbs over the couch's edges.

She hoisted her body up, peeping around the study that glistened with light, particles of dust dancing in the air as static fell over everything, and the only sound that permeated the room beside the tune of fauna was the light breathing that came from the desk.

Tom Riddle's head rested on an amalgam of scattered papers, almost as if he had fallen asleep while reading them, and his hands still gripped a feathered quill that had stained a document with ink. His curls fell over, cheek squished against the wooden board, and his body moved rhythmically with breaths of somnolence. His long eyelashes were closed tight, and his forehead carried an unmistakable crease that rarely left his heavenly features.

Perhaps, he would have called her odd for staring at him the way she was, might have even condemned her heart for twisting with ache, but it was moments such as that one that had Varya understand her love for him— when he was vulnerable, his defense shattered to the ground, flaws exposed to the world as he engaged in worldly things that did not suit his faultless facade.

The witch got up to her feet, then strolled over to the desk, eyes trailing the endless documents that the boy had been revising. And then curiosity took over as she saw familiar names draped over the parchments— hers, Felix, Indra, Lev, even Della. She knitted her eyebrow in confusion, trepidation settling in, and then reached out to grab one right from under his nose.

A hand darted out, and slender fingers clasped around her wrist.

"What are you doing?" mumbled Tom with wrath in his groggy voice, and it rasped in the lower register as he trained clashing waves of Poseidon's rage on her, almost drowning the witch in their profundity.

She did not move away from him, mind still smudged from her recent awakening, and all she registered was the tinkling where his hand touched her skin. Tom became aware of it too, and his eyes drifted to the spot where his thumb was slowly rubbing circles on her wrist unconsciously. He dropped it as if scorched, and repugnance struck his features.

"I suggest you go get dressed for breakfast," he muttered as he hurried to collect everything, opening a drawer on the right side and then shutting it close. Tom pulled a key out of his pocket, then twisted it into the lock, which shut with undoubted magic.

The girl frowned at the highly suspicious conduct, making a note of every movement, yet she was aware that inquiring of his scrupulous behavior would do nothing except anger him. So, she pursed her lips in evident discontent, making sure to put on a disturbed facade that would deceive the boy into thinking the discussion was far from ever. Except it was, because she would not be asking him anything about it anymore. Varya would find another way.