Chapter Nine: The Game Plan
"...or perhaps in Slytherin, you'll make real friends. Those cunning folk use any means, to achieve their end." -the Sorting Hat
Azalea strolled through the common room that was illuminated with emerald green lights as she searched for a nice place to sit down and immerse herself into her new habbitat. As she padded through the room, she halted frequently to drink in some of the room's exquisite features. From the glowing green orbs that were casting shadowy figures to dance on the floors - to the stone serpent that was emboldened on the wall above the crackling fire. The dark-haired witch grudgingly had to admit that when it came to room decor, Slytherins definitely were in a way more advanced league compared to the other houses. When she finally sat herself on the black, leather love seat, Azalea reached for a random book that laid slightly camouflaged by the darkness and brought it into her possession.
"The History of Hogwart?" She questioned aloud, although she knew no one was around to hear her. The dark-haired witch had read the book so many times that she had lost count in the second year, so figured reading it once more wouldn't kill her. Seconds turned to minutes, and minutes to hours although it was unknown to the witch who was deeply divulged into her book. That was until a soft voice snapped her back into reality: "enjoying the book?"
Azalea sharply spun around to the owner of the voice and was instantly followed by a whip to the face, courtesy of her hair. "Quite well, thank you."
Riddle nodded, not taking his eyes off the dark-haired witch. "What are you doing out of your bed chambers so late, surly you must feel tired by now," he said softy.
"No, I'm not tired and I can ask you the same question. Why are you up so late?" She asked, smarty. Where the sudden burst of confidence came from, she didn't know, but he didn't seem to be fazed by it at all. He just stood there staring at her intently, with almost a hungry glint in his eyes.
"Prefix duties," he answered shortly.
"Oh..." Azalea muttered quietly and slightly embarrassed. A long, pregnant pause fell between the two and it made the dark-haired witch much too uncomfortable. Riddle however, didn't seem to mind as he leaned on the chair across from her twirling his wand idly. The tense silence was almost suffocating as the two just stared at each other: daring the other to blink first. Her stare started off strong and stable but the intensity of Riddle's alluring but cold eyes made her involuntarily look away. Forcing herself to look back, she was greeted with a small curl of Riddle's lips before he straightened himself up and disappeared into to his sleeping chambers. Even though the encounter was odd, it had probably been the only proper conversation she's had with him. Her brother's letter soon came floating into her head also and he was right. 'I shouldn't approach him, but let him try to approach me,' She thought calculatedly, 'Ok, the plan is to make sure he tries to approach me - to befriend me. Easy enough!' After Azalea thought to herself a little longer, she soon followed Riddle's suite and went to her sleeping courters.
She entered the room to find Ocean cocooned in her blankets and her friend on the ground trying to snuggle closer into the floor. After giving the unconscious friend an odd look, she walked over to her bed while mumbling a, "thanks for making sure I came back in an hour guys." It wasn't long after that when sleep took over her.