Rose & The Riddle || Tom Riddle Story

Chapter Twenty-Nine - Confrontation

Rose did not sleep that night. She lay awake, watched the moving shadows of the creatures in the black lake move throughout her dormitory. The conversation with Abraxas was still too fresh in her mind, and it was leaving her restless. She knew Tom was not to be trifled with, but what she couldn't understand was what he thought he saw inside Malfoy's mind. 

     The next morning, she walked alone to the Great Hall. Mary and Isabel were quite hungover and remained in bed. She was shocked to see Tom Riddle sitting alone at his usual spot at the Slytherin table. Her first instinct was to run, but she knew she needed to face him. Now was not the time to be a coward.

     She studied him carefully before approaching. His eyes were fixated on that morning's edition of the Daily Prophet. He had a bowl of cereal in front of him that appeared to be untouched. His usually pristine hair did not appear so perfect this morning. His dark curls were tousled and his eyes were sunken. For the first time, he looked surprisingly human.

     She approached him slowly. His eyes trailed up and caught hers as she took a seat across from him. Neither of them spoke for several moments. It was as if they were both trying to read each other's minds.

     "You look like hell," he said, breaking the silence.

     "I could say the same to you," she said, as she clasped her hands together and placed them on the table. He sighed, folded the newspaper and set it down off to the side.

     "Can I help you with something?" he asked, sounding like a politician.

     Rose curled her lip, completely abhorrent for him to pretend like he was innocent when he knew very well why she was here.

     "I think we need to talk," she mused, maintaining composure.

     "I think I need my morning coffee before I get into a rousing round of banter with you, Miss Davies," he said as he slid a mug of black coffee towards himself. Rose could not tell if she was angry because he was remaining so calm, or if she was angry because he was using his witty charm to his advantage. She decided it was the latter.

     "I could care less about what you need, Tom," she said, trying to sound angry, but feared she was failing. He cut his eyes up at her and placed the mug back down on the table. He mimicked her position and clasped his hands and placed them on the table as well. It appeared as if they were having face-off.

     "Perhaps we should take this to a more private location," he cooed. 

     "No," she said sternly. "I'm not going anywhere alone with you."

     He cocked his head sideways in a patronizing way and knitted his eyebrows together.

     "That's a first," he said with a smirk. "You usually don't mind being alone with me."

     Heat rose to her cheeks and her pulse quickened slightly.

     "What's with the sudden change of heart?" he asked sarcastically. "Perhaps you are displeased with the way I choose to punish my wrongdoers?"

     Rose merely stared at him, as he threw his head back in laughter and continued patronizing her.

     "Or no, let me guess, you're upset with me because I have put an end to your little tryst with Malfoy," he said abruptly, and straight faced. His laughter turned into straight malice at the flip of a switch. It scared her how quickly he could change the tone of the conversation.

     "Is that it, my dear Rose?" he spat.

     "No!" she nearly yelled, "We need to talk because you do not get to dictate who I'm friends with!"