two can keep a secret,

chapter twenty-five.

Lilith.

"That Greengrass bitch won't leave me alone."

I glance at Riddle as he starts walking next to me in the corridor.

"Daphne?" I ask.

He furrows his brows and shakes his head. "No, the younger, more annoying one."

"Astoria?"

"Yeah," he says, his eyes not leaving me. "She's so fucking annoying. She won't leave me the hell alone."

"What do you think I'm going to do about it, Riddle?"

"I thought you could talk some sense into her."

I shrug. "Not my problem."

"Lilith!" someone says, cutting Riddle off from what he was about to say. Micheal Corner stops in front of us. "Hey, sorry to interrupt."

"You're fine, Corner. What up?" I ask.

"Have you figured out how to do that charm Flitwick was teaching us today?" he asks, fiddling with his fingers. "I can't figure it out, and I thought that you could swing by Ravenclaw tonight and help me with it?"

It wasn't that hard of a charm, but some things are harder for some people than others.

"Don't you have to reorganize Professor Snape's potion closet tonight?" Riddle cuts in.

I glare at him. "No, I'm sure that is tomorrow night. Dad doesn't want it done tonight. Tomorrow and then once more right before the dance."

He shakes his head, giving me a warning look. "I'm sure you said it was tonight. Remember?"

I'm not going to win this one, am I? I sigh and turn back to Corner. "I'm sorry, Riddle is correct. I do have to something for my father tonight. I'll see if I can help you another night, yeah?"

"Yeah, of course," he says, smiling at me. "Just let me know and we'll— uh," he glances at Riddle, "hang out and figure it all out."

"What the hell was that?" I ask, whipping back around to Riddle when Corner gets out of earshot.

He grabs my arm and starts pulling me into an abandoned corridor.

"Riddle. Riddle, what are you—"

He pushes me against the wall. "Shut up. I was saving your ass."

"From what exactly?" I ask, glaring daggers at him.

"He's just trying to get in your pants."

"How do you know that?" I snap. "Maybe he needed help, and you're just being a dick."

"You act like I don't know things," he says.

I scoff. "And what if I didn't care about him getting in my pants? Hm? What if I just— oh, god," I make a small groaning sound, "What if I wanted to have sex with him? Then what? What would you do about that, Riddle?"

Something flashes across his eyes and he just looks at me. "You don't want to have sex with him."

"How do you know that? How do you know that I wouldn't have went to his dorm right then and let him fuck me?"

"You don't want to."

I lean closer to him. "You're overreacting about nothing," I whisper.

He scoffs and steps away from me. "Overreacting? Darling, if anything, I'm going easy on you. You haven't seen anything yet."

And he leaves.

☯︎︎

I'm sitting on the middle part of the ladder in Dad's potion cabinet. Indeed, tonight was the night I had to do it. Curse Riddle and him being right for once.

"Ideas are bulletproof," I mutter. "Men can die," I write a number down, "They can be forgotten, caught, and killed. An Idea on the other hand," I write more numbers down, "within a hundred years, that idea may still change the world."

"Governments are excuses to be controlled," I murmur, moving things around. "They kill us and say we enjoy it. The patriarchy is at the top. Lions and pigs are at the top of the food chain."

I do this sometimes. It makes me look crazy, but most of the time I'm not wrong when I talk to myself.

I continue organizing the potions and writing them down. How the hell it gets so unorganized, I have no idea.

I hear footsteps. My hand goes to the switch blade in my boot and I take it out, hiding it against my chest. When the footsteps get closer, I open the blade and spin around.

Riddle puts up his hands in the doorway.

"Jesus," I breath, closing the blade before putting it back in my boot. Then I notice the blood on his face and knuckles. "Christ, Riddle. What the hell did you do?"

"Corner's friend was being a little bitch."

I climb down the ladder and start searching my bag.

"Why didn't you go to Pomfrey?" I ask, grabbing out the small first aid kit.

He shrugs. "She asks too many questions. You do too, but I can't be there."

I sigh and stand up, grabbing his shoulders. "Sit down, I'll patch you up," I say, and try to move him. "I swear," I point to him, "if the next words out of your mouth are 'don't tell me what to do' I'm going to hand you to Pomfrey."

He sighs and sits in the ground. I move the ladder so I can sit down next to him.

His cuts on his face opened back up again, and he has a bruise on the side of his face, along with a small gash on his chin.

I don't say anything, I just start cleaning his cuts and bandaging them.

"How do you know how to clean wounds so well?" he asks, his voice raspy as I clean the cut on his chin.

"When you've been around potions your whole life, you learn some first aid," I say. "First it was burns, then cuts, then poisons, and antidotes."

He winced slightly when I clean the cuts on his cheek.

"Don't get beat up, and I won't have to clean it all out," I say, putting butterfly bandages on the cuts again.

"The other guy got it worse."

"I can imagine."

"Hey, Snape?"

"Hm?"

"I was thinking," he says. "This might sound like the dumbest idea ever. But, you know, girls are annoying when they don't leave me alone, so I was thinking we could go to the dance together so they'll get off my back."

I pull away from him. "You're drunk."

He shakes his head, then puts his hand up, putting his fingers close together. "Just a little," he says with the ghost of a smile. "Look, I said it was dumb, and it is. So, that's fine."

"What's in it for me?" I ask because why the hell not?

He looks taken aback, like he didn't expect me to even think about agreeing to it. Maybe I won't. Maybe I will.

"Well, you get to see me so—"

I slap his arm.

"Look, okay, boys will get off your back. Because I know for a fact that half the guys that try to get in your pants make you want to blow shit up. If they see you with me, they'll shut the hell up, and I won't have to deal with annoying bitches." He sticks out his hand. "Deal?"

I pause. It's an appealing offer, but I hate him. I hate him. I hate him so much it hurts.

So I'm not sure why I'm not surprised when I take his hand and shake it, saying, "Deal."