36 Chapter Thirty-Five: The Sound of Power

He had Crucioed her.

Tom Riddle had Crucioed Cordelia time and time again until she felt like ripping the hair from her head and nails from her hands.

The minutes and hours blurred together to form one big, blurry blob of pain yet his wrath saw no end as the head boy stood before her kneeled-over form, not even bothering to so much as allow his breathing to get unsteady as a reaction to what he had stumbled upon that afternoon.

If she was being honest, Cordelia had hoped that the fact that he had dragged her all the way back to the head's dorms meant her fate was yet to be decided, somehow overlooking the simple yet masterful art of hiding in plain sight and fooling one's victims.

Her jaw had slackened the second she had been dragged past the threshold, however, Cordelia wasn't given even a second to think before her form was flung to the carpet in the middle of the room, with Tom following right after.

Gazes never met and words were never spoken, for something seemed to snap inside Tom as he pointed the tip of his wand her way and allowed himself to pour all of the anger, betrayal, and frustration he felt into one blinding stream of red magic.

And then he did it again.

And again.

His curse didn't let up even as Cordelia's form crippled and her throat ran dry from endless screams, in fact, it seemed to intensify every time he heard that broken symphony that was a testament to her pain.

One would have thought that being subjected to Tom's Crucios a handful of times would be enough to help her adapt to it, even in the slightest. Yet somehow, it felt like the curse had gotten worse than it used to be.

Perhaps it was the sudden change in Tom's persona due to his Horcruxes and the latest developments, or perhaps it was the situation itself that pushed him over an edge the wizard himself didn't know existed. Whatever the reason, Cordelia couldn't help but mutter a string of broken swears at the sudden advancement in his magic.

If only she hadn't hesitated at the door, or turned back a second too early and not revealed her identity. If only she had thought twice about the Dark Lord dwelling far closer to her than the one that seemed to be an immediate threat and somehow placated any doubts Tom could have had about her sudden disappearance.

If only Cordelia had just taken a moment to think. To stop and breathe and contemplate matters that had existed far before that morning.

If only she wasn't stupid enough to solve one problem only to throw herself into the next, perhaps the brunette could have somehow prevented her current predicament.

But she hadn't, and thus she lay sprawled out on the floor at his mercy with her form twitching and bloodied nails weakly digging into the wood at the edge of the carpet. Usually, she would have turned numb at this point, but instead Cordelia felt like her nerves were on fire, like she could feel everything at once every waking minute.

She wasn't even presented with the mercy of passing out, for Riddle was quick to heal her at least a little the second her eyes began to drop dangerously low, which was ironic considering his curse never let up even as his hand awkwardly shuffled to wandlessly cast a healing charm or two.

Yet even then he remained completely stoic.

In fact, the first time Tom moved even an inch that night was when he finally decided to stop and set down his wand, yet even then, the brunet never allowed himself to show an ounce of emotion.

"You look prettier when you're put in your place."

Usually, Cordelia wouldn't have thought twice before biting back, yet this time she was too focused on trying to catch her breath to even be able to properly comprehend his words.

However, that hindrance was dealt with the second Tom's vice-like grip burrowed within her hair and yanked until Cordelia's head was jutted above the floor at an awkward angle.

"I will ask this only once. What did you tell him?"

She wanted to keep quiet.

Cordelia wanted to seal her lips shut and with it lock the secrets of her past and future away so the likes of Tom Riddle could never catch wind of it. Cordelia wanted to hide, yet it was getting impossibly harder to do so when the shadows blurred into one, big intimidating blur.

So she spoke.

There were shuffles and hiccups, tears and broken sentences with gaps Tom had to fill on his own, yet, by the end of the hour, Cordelia found herself uncomfortably leaning against the front of their common room's couch mindlessly picking at the dried blood on her damaged cuticles as she let her tongue run free and attempted to ignore the discomfort of having been tugged to that spot from her hair.

It was different than talking to Dumbledore, that was certain.

A warm feeling didn't erupt in her heart and the supposed safety encompassing her was long replaced with promises of danger and death but still, somehow, Cordelia knew he wouldn't hurt her too badly.

Deep down, even as her body ached and mind reeled, Cordelia knew that if she played her cards right, if she just employed everything she had learned about the boy before her over the years, perhaps the Slytherin queen could make it out of that night with a few injuries to spare.

"I might be loyal to you but I have no intentions of following other dark lords."

She was lying through her teeth, both of them knew that she was. Or at least, Cordelia presumed Tom wouldn't have been blind enough to believe her. Yet as she watched the Dark Lord finally let out an overwhelming sigh and let go of her tresses to fall back until he was seated across from her on the carpet, Cordelia couldn't help but question her logic.

He didn't catch her first half-lie that evening. It was a foolish accomplishment, yet enough to ignite a futile spark of hope within her as the witch shuffled around to sit back comfortably, or at least as comfortably as one could with age-old carpets burning into their shins.

However, Cordelia was quickly forced to change positions the second Tom gathered himself enough to yet again tug on her form, but this time, the hold on her arm seemed almost tender. Or perhaps, after hours of enduring his torture, Cordelia had merely convinced herself to think as much.

"I didn't know."

Of course he bloody didn't. It was hard to when Cordelia herself had only found out that morning. But saying as much would only reopen the grave she had barely crawled out of, thus the brunette chose to keep her mouth shut and instead focus her energy on trying not to evade the awkward embrace she felt not a moment later.

The way Tom's shoulders sagged and breathing slowed only urged Cordelia to do the same, with their actions of the day finally catching up to their forms and forcing the two to lean against one another even as the faint remorse in one's heart mirrored the hatred in the other's.

"Sorry."

One word, two syllables.

The phrase was a universal one, a word that Cordelia had gotten used to over the years. However, even after copious incidents of receiving and even muttering the word, nothing could have prepared her for the sound of it created when uttered by him.

It was the sound of remorse and agony that was barely present, one she had gotten used to hearing from Arcturus and others over the years. A sound that could only come from someone who knew their fault yet even then refused to admit it.

As the morning sun shone its rays on the castle of Hogwarts, the head boy and girl found themselves slumbering in one another's arms on the floor of their common room.

Usually, the two would have been more than ready to greet the new day and venture into whatever it had planned for them, yet as Cordelia let out a small nod and allowed herself to give in and fall asleep in a monster's arms, she couldn't help but perceive that familiar sound in a new way.

It was the sound of weakness.

And she loved it.