The darkness. The whispers. The dark glamour of brotherhood that they had. Tom Riddle’s circle of friends, or The Knights of Walpurgis. Purebloods. All of them. Expect Tom himself.

In reality, behind the smiles, the cigarettes lit, laughs made, the plans, the petty arguments. Tom didn’t not value them, he had no emotional attachment. He had long thought that ability lost since the day he was born into this accursed world.

Expect for her. Her essence, her aura, her beauty. Tom didn’t love her, no. But he possesses her. Which is more than enough for him.

“Come to me, Darling.” Tom instructed, his voice baring no emotion. But his eyes, they lied often. Not to her. He pulled her close to him, she had almost been killed after Tom had tasked her and Abraxas to try and find a book he wanted, one that was guarded by morbid creatures.

“Had Abraxas not been there, you would’ve been killed!” He said, looking down at her as his jaw clenched. “You are to be careful from now on. Dumbledore is on our trail, we cannot let him find out.”