Unexpected Encounters | Tom Riddle

TW: This chapter has a section that deals with traumatic flashbacks and self-injury.

The sound of her glass breaking brought Lilia back to reality. "Oh, I'm-" she stammered, but an elf quickly appeared to clean up the mess.

"Am I this handsome?" Dimitri Dolohov smirked at her, his expression nauseatingly familiar. Her heart sank, bile rising in her throat as she took in his features. The sharp jaw, the confident sneer, so reminiscent of Antonin Dolohov. She could feel the blood draining from her face, and it took every ounce of willpower not to crumble under the weight of his presence. "My apologies, Dimitri. I am Lilia. Lilia Rousseau." She forced herself to laugh lightly, extending a hand she wished she could hide. "Rousseau, hmm? My angel tells me you're from France." "I am." The words tasted like ash. "Interesting. And you just transferred to Hogwarts from Beauxbatons?" "I did." "I study at Durmstrang myself. Nice to meet someone from a school other than Hogwarts." Lilia smiled faintly, though her skin crawled. "So exotic," Evangeline cooed, throwing her arms around Dimitri and kissing him loudly.

"I'll just go to the washroom," Lilia muttered, her voice brittle as she fled upstairs to her room. Lilia locked the bathroom door behind her and braced herself against the marble counter. The cold surface beneath her palms grounded her, but only just. Her reflection stared back, pale and wide-eyed, a mask of composure shattering in the privacy of the room. Her breath came in short gasps, panic clawing its way up her throat. The sound of Dimitri's voice echoed in her mind, blending with Antonin's cruel laughter.

"That's all you bloody traitors are good for. Isn't that what halfbreeds like you deserve, Potter?"

A sob wrenched its way out of her chest, and she pressed her fist to her mouth to muffle the sound. She could still feel Antonin's hands on her, the violation etched into her memory as though it had happened yesterday. Her body trembled, and she shook her head violently as if she could cast the memories away like an unwanted spell. "He's dead," she whispered hoarsely. "He's dead, and I'm still letting him win." But her own words felt hollow. Dimitri wasn't Antonin, but his presence reopened wounds she thought she'd buried. The same sharp jawline, the same cruel smirk. How could fate be so cruel as to bring his likeness back into her life?

Her breathing grew erratic, her fists tightening at her sides. Without thinking, she lashed out, driving her fist into the mirror. The glass shattered, shards falling around her in a cascade of jagged edges. The sharp sting in her knuckles brought her back to the present, grounding her in the pain. Blood trickled down her hand, the crimson drops staining the pristine white counter. She stared at it for a moment, the pain a strangely comforting distraction from the storm raging in her mind.

"Get it together," she muttered, her voice shaking. "I can't fall apart here." With trembling hands, she raised her wand and repaired the mirror. The cracks vanished, but her reflection felt like a stranger's. She healed the cuts on her hand next, leaving faint scars that she barely noticed. Lilia's shoulders slumped as she leaned heavily against the counter, staring into the now-pristine mirror. Her thoughts circled back to Dimitri, to Antonin, to the weight of everything she had endured.

A small, broken laugh escaped her lips. She wasn't strong, she was just surviving.

The voices of the ball guests drifted up from below, a cruel reminder that she couldn't hide here forever. She took a shaky breath and splashed cold water on her face, wiping away the tear tracks on her cheeks. Brushing her hair back into place, she practiced a neutral expression. Most of her makeup was gone, but that was alright. She had bigger issues to worry about. When she was satisfied, she straightened her dress and unlocked the door. She stepped into the hallway, her walls rebuilt, her façade firmly in place.