Chapter Twelve: The Truth of Deception
"I don't go looking for trouble. Trouble usually finds me." -Harry Potter
'Dear Diary,
It's another long night of staring blankly into the embers of the fire and two days have blown by. Two days since my slip up in-front of Riddle - or Voldemort- or whatever. He knows there's something really out of place about me and he'll never fully trust me, especially not with the things that my task require. I've been avoiding him until I can come up with a better game plan. I just need to hope that whatever suspicions he's getting from me is enough to make him confront me about it. By this point, any communication with him is good, as long as he can't put the pieces about where I came from and who I am together. Merlin knows what he'd do to me if he did...
-Azalea L. Potter'
Closing the red-leathered diary, Azalea slouched in the emerald love seat. The numbing sensation of sleep started spreading through her body until the doors' of the common room groaned in protest. Ducking behind the shield of the love seat, she listened in to the hushed whispers of what sounded like two boys. She couldn't catch much of the conversation but she could pick out little snippets such as; "...he wanted us to find...the girl is quite suspicious...he's growing impatient, Lestrange." They continued quarrelling into entrance of their dormitories before disappearing from sight. Leaving Azalea to hold in her breath almost to the point of passing out.
~*~
"Hey Rosefiled! Did you end up finishing the essay about the history of Amortentia?" Malfoy's voice asked the next morning during breakfast. "Yea, I finished a couple of days ago, did you?"
As the two went over the procedures they underwent to finished the essay, Azalea was all to aware of the looks they were getting from his "friends." From the association and involvement he had with the group, it was obvious he was part of their inner-circle. And she could definitely use that to her advantage.
"I've notice you have been...kind of checked out lately, is everything alright?" Malfoy asked, his stormy, grey eyes holding curiousity. "Yea, yea, everything's fine," she said, sending him a small smile. "Great. I was also wondering if you wanted to go to Hogmeade with me this weekend," he said, flashing her a pearly-smile.
"Um..yea, that sounds lovely," she responded, vaguely. "Perfect," he offered his hand and Azalea gently place her hand in his significantly larger one, "until we meet again," and he left after softly pressing his lips to her knuckles. The dark-haired witch couldn't help the blush that was forming on her pale face as she watched his retreating figure. Unaware of the person who was glaring daggers at her, scowling, while stomping up to the still blushing witch.
"To be completely honest with you, I don't know what he sees relatively likeable about you," Azalea turned about to see a very fair-skinned witch flanked by equally as beautiful dark-skinned witch and a smooth tanned-skinned one.
"I beg your pardon?" She, Azalea, asked as she cocked an eyebrow.
"They use to go out," the dark-skinned witch filled in for the confused Azalea. She made gave an understanding nod and smile up at the witches.
"Maybe he just finds it refreshing to talk with a girl who can actually give him an intellectual conversation."
The girl's unamused face dropped into an ugly scowl and was about to retort back until being stopped before she could.
"I believe Malfoy broke up with you over two months ago, Droope. I think it best you move on and bring your friends with you before I'm forced to take off points from your house." Looking at the voice that questioned her, she quickly complied when she noticed that the voice had been Riddle. Making a hand gesture, her and her friends walked away with their noses high in the air.
"I hope they didn't give you too much trouble Rosefield," he said, softly, his eyes ever so slightly glinting. "Not at all," Azalea said, falsely smiling in gratefulness towards him. "Would it be a trouble if I escorted you to your next class?" Riddle said, already offering his arm. Her false smile tightened, "no, of course not."
Giving him her arm, they walked silently to the class. "What's your next class?" She questioned.
"Transfigurations."
"That's my next class as well," Azalea said, taking a quick glance at him.
"That's fascinating," he said, not troubling himself to look at her.
Azalea glared ahead of her in spite of Riddle. 'He could of a least been a little more inconspicuous that he didn't care," she huffed, as they continued their walked to the classroom.