Unexpected Encounters | Tom Riddle

Lilia rounded a corner, her heels clicking softly against the stone floor as she stepped into the dimly lit hallway. Flickering pyres cast restless shadows, their warmth unable to chase away the chill that seeped into her bones. She stopped by a narrow window, wrapping her arms around herself as she gazed out. The compound below was empty, veiled in darkness, its outlines barely visible beneath the star-scattered sky. Her feet ached, but the thought of slipping off her heels and exposing herself to the cold kept her rooted in place.

The stars shimmered above, steady and ageless. She had always been drawn to the night sky, typical of a Ravenclaw who once found comfort in Astronomy charts and celestial patterns. But now, the heavens felt heavier, distant yet familiar, as if they alone knew the truth of who she was. Fifty-five years had passed, yet the stars remained unchanged. Perhaps they were the only witnesses to her secret, the only constant in a world where everything else demanded reinvention.

Tonight reminded her a lot of the Yule ball. That had (arguably) been the happiest night of her life. However, since that night, it was like there had been a cloud of constant grey over their lives. Lilia had never really had a choice in whether she would join the Order of the Phoenix; it had been assumed that she would. She did it out of love for her brother, and their mission was to protect Harry at all costs as he would be the one to put an end to Voldemort. But then Harry died. Hit by the killing curse in front of their own eyes in Hogwarts. He never woke up again and it had been like it was straight out of a horror story. She had discussed it with Hermione: Voldemort's soul should have been killed and Harry's should have been fine. It didn't work out like that and she had lost her brother.

She trembled from the cool air and her morose thoughts. Her mind then shifted to Septimus who was about to kiss her. She wasn't ready to kiss someone again. She didn't know if she would ever be ready for that again. When she thought about kissing someone, she remembered how Antonin Dolohov forced his mouth on hers to shut her up. When she thought about getting intimate, something she had never done before, she remembered how he took that away from her.

Everything had hurt, and with the emotional damage that such a violation had done, it had been worse that the three hours of torture at Bellatrix' hands. She couldn't simply put behind her past and start dating as if nothing had happened. She needed help, but that meant that she would have to share what had happened to her. They were her most shameful moments. She didn't want to be vulnerable in front of someone like that. No one would understand her; they hadn't lived through the same ordeal she had.

The sound of footsteps caused her to snap out of her thoughts and look to her right. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw Tom walking in her direction, his face sharp and his eyes focusing on the view outside through the open windows. When he turned to look in front of him again, he finally noticed Lilia. She looked unreal to him, with the light from the stars shining her face while the pyre in the back added a warm glow to her skin, a contrast between warm and cool lights playing across her features.

"Rousseau." He acknowledged her with a small nod. "Riddle." She gave him a small smile though it didn't quite reach her eyes. He stood next to her, making sure to keep his distance from her and took out a cigarette from his pocket. He used a lighter, the small flame briefly illuminating his face. Lilia noticed the way his eyes seemed to shine brighter with the light of the flame. His hair was still neatly styled and it looked like he was ready to attend another event. He brought the cigarette to his lips with long fingers that Lilia hadn't noticed until that moment. With a small blush, she looked away and instead focused on the stars again. She heard a small exhale and a cloud of smoke filled the space in front of Tom.

"You're thinking of something," she said. His jaw clenched as he took another drag of his cigarette. Myrtle Warren. The girl he killed. "Or someone." "Who's that someone?" "A girl I used to like." "Do I know her?" No way- was it just like Septimus said? Did Tom and Myrtle use to date? "You don't. She's gone." "I'm sorry." "No big deal." They didn't say anything after that, just filled the silence with their own thoughts.