Lost | Tom Riddle ✔

Chapter 74

Refresh your memories with chapter 63. It will be useful. Trust me.

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*Thud*

A sixteen-year-old Slytherin named Tom Riddle shut his book forcefully. The greying pages of an old copy of "Diving into the Ancient Runes, deeper than before" convulsed beneath the sudden pressure. 

He paid no heed. 

"Stupid girl!" He cursed instead.

This was the third time he had slammed that book shut. In irritation. 

Two times he had already thrown it away. In frustration. 

If the book was not protected under the conservation charm, it wouldn't have sustained the lightning tyranny of an otherwise bibliophile. All thanks to his thoughts that drifted back to the same girl and the same kiss. The kiss of Acceptance that is. He had no idea why he was affected this much. Was it because, somewhere in the back of his head, he craved the same thing like her? The place to belong that is.

 Growing up as an orphan has its tolls. The most prominent of them is that; you know that you don't belong. That you have no place to call your home. Was that the reason that he enjoyed the kiss this much? A little too much? He had always put on a facade that he didn't need anyone. That there was no one that could match his expectation. From the start, he knew he deserved the best. And after knowing his roots, he knew that he wouldn't settle for anything less.

Then why? Why did she affect him so much? 

He knew she had potential. The power that he craved. The only thing he worshipped and desired since he was a kid. It was also the reason why he was drowned to her in the beginning. He shivered. The spell of her bewitching violet eyes was still intact. Exterior appearance never appealed the young Riddle. Had it been other way around, he had chosen someone else. Alexa wasn't the most beautiful girl in the world that he had seen, after all. However, undoubtedly, she was the most enchanting one. Hence, the ignorance of the effects of her eyes had frenzied his mind. 

A sigh parted those sinful lips. He leaned back in on the headboard of his bed. His deep chocolate eyes scrutinized the silver lantern that dangled from the ceiling. His orbs were dark. Even darker than usual. Subconsciously, his right palm went to the joint between his left shoulder and the neck. His slightly rough fingers came in contact with slightly rougher skin. His cheeks suddenly felt warmer than before. 

He had no idea of why he had used a temporary, mild conservation charm to stop her assault from healing. 

He had no idea of why he used muggle ways to prevent anyone else from witnessing what has conspired that night. 

He had no idea why he was so determined to act otherwise when all this scenario made him vulnerable, fragile, and unpredictable. 

Tom scowled. He never liked surprises. He liked to be prepared always.

His orbs sauntered around the room to land on the bed across from his. The sleeping form of a friend was occupying it. Maybe he should ask this to Anthony, he wondered. His eyes narrowed the next instant when he realized how it would make him look. 

Vulnerable. Fragile. And weak. 

Tom exhaled harshly. 

He didn't do anything weak.

He left his bed and went to Anthony's. He stood there. Shaking his head in disapproval, at the same time smiling with amusement, he saw that his pal had fallen asleep clutching a crystal ball to his chest. With his body curled around it, Tom thought that Anthony looked just like a baby. He picked the heavy ball and placed it delicately on the table beside the bed.