"Nephilim are one of the most dangerous beings in all of creation." - The Angel Of Thursday; Castiel
There's a girl in a green dress
She's got eyes like fire, but lips so tame
She's huddled by the boy who's
Demons have completely shattered him
So fa...
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I aimlessly wandered through the corridors, regretting rushing out of Potion's before Lavender. For the past hour and a half I had been simply ghosting around the castle trying to find my back to the common room.
At this point I was close to just risking it all and teleporting back in my dorm room. However, I didn't want to chance one of the girl's being there. I mean how am I suppose to explain just randomly popping up?
Much to my relief I came upon the doors leading into the library. Pursing my lips I quietly made my way in there, curiously looking around. Dozens of tables, chairs, and couches made there way around the library. The sheer size of the library was bigger than any other other library I had ever seen. Tens to thousands of books, on thousands of shelves, in hundreds of narrow rows lined the walls.
In the very back of the library, practically invisible from where I stood was a darker section; roped off. Just in front of that rope were a few tables, each of which contained practically no students. Not many students were in the library to begin with; however, only one student sat back there.
Tom Riddle sat in the back surrounded by bridges of books, and parchment. He looked glorified as ever, with his hair perfectly neat, and his eyes shining their shimmering blue color. Tom truly was a sight to behold, everything about him seemed so elegant and sophisticated.
Seconds after my eyes landed on him, as if he could sense my presence—he looked up. Our eyes met dramatic-fierce clash. His blue orbs glared into mine harshly, a sign that surely said he was pissed at me. For such a facade artist, he sure was having a hard time keeping it up around me.
With a shrug of my shoulders I began approaching his table. Tom rose an eyebrow as if surprised I was actually walking over, he leaned back in his chair crossing his arms. A book containing who-knows-what lay open in front of him, giving him the ever aura of a teenage prodigy.
"Tommy, I'm lost." I sighed, falling into the seat across from him.
His nostrils flared, as he leaned closer to me—eyes flashing wrathfully.
"I have already asked you to not call me, Tommy. I am now loosing my patience, Lightly." He hissed, giving me a deadly look.
"Alright fine." I gave in, holding my hands up. "But I really am lost." I added meekly in a more awkward tone.
Tom gave a huff, looking to me in annoyance. What happened to the ever so charming boy?
"And what would you like me to do about it? Do I look like a Gryffindor to you?" He spat harshly.
"Unfortunately, no." I drawled out a sigh resting my head on my arm.
Tom watched me emotionless, before looking around. "Shouldn't you be off fooling around like the delinquent you are?" He waved me off, picking up a quill and writing on some parchment.
