BEAUTY IS TERROR

CHAPTER 2

Diana pushed the large doors of the great hall open, she was late for the feast. She was acutely aware of the sudden hush that fell over the Slytherin table as the heads of the boys lifted their eyes lingering on her entrance. She felt the weight of their gazes as she paced towards the centre of the table, where three boys sat, deep in a hushed conversation. Respect demanded by the imposing presence of this trio; Draco, with his unwavering pale grey eyes, was the first to notice her, nudging the taller boy beside him.

Theo paused in his conversation, wearing a sly smile. "Decided to grace us with your presence, have you? About time."

The third boy, sitting opposite them turned around, the cold, calculating and unapproachable facade he wore lifted, a smile touching Mattheo's perfectly sculpted lips, "hello sweetheart".

As she slid in beside Mattheo, Diana ran her long nails through his hair. "So, what did I interrupt?"

"What do you think?" Theo leaned over whispering to the group, "you saw what was written last night, the chamber has been opened".

A heavy weight settled on Diana's chest as the memory of the bloodied mudblood girl laying stiff lingered fresh in her mind. It had taken hours for Filtch to scrub the pool of blood off the floor, yet the obscene writing on the wall proving impossible to remove.

"You know I still have my bet Mattheo here is Slytherin's heir" Theo joked earning a stern glare from Mattheo that swiped the smug smile right off his face.

"Don't be ridiculous," Draco scoffed, his tone icy. "He wouldn't keep that from us—the least we have here is trust." He shot Diana an icy stare. "Speaking of... why were you late?"

"I was busy choosing a lacy set of underwear," Diana teased, winking at Draco, causing his face to redden. She knew he held her skeptically constantly presenting a cold a front towards her.

"I hope it's the red one," Mattheo whispered into her ear, his hot breath upon her neck sent a shiver through her and her guilty conscience. Diana pushed Mattheo away playfully, her attention drifted to the end of the table where two sullen eyes were fixated on her—Tom, his expression unreadable. The boys turned to followed her gaze.

"I think it's pretty obvious who the killer is," Theo remarked, his playfulness replaced by a serious tone.

"My brother is the spitting image of our father; it wouldn't surprise me in the least," Mattheo spat, his eyes darkening as they fell upon his older brother.

Tom smirked back at him and rose from his seat, leaving his untouched food behind, and strode down the table toward the entrance, hands poised behind his back. He paused before the group, his eyes briefly met Diana's.

"Rosier," he acknowledged her, and without waiting for her response, he strode off purposefully. A few third years scatter to let him pass as the great doors opened with a flick of his wrist. If her group commanded respect from others, Tom Riddle commanded fear.
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