Chapter Text
“Hey. You going to class today?” Eileen Prince asked in an uncharacteristically gentle voice as she pulled back the curtains on the bed next to hers in the Slytherin girls’ dormitory. It took everything Lexi had in her just to sit up and wordlessly shake her head as she accepted the glass of water Eileen offered her. Eileen ran a frustrated hand through her dark hair and sighed. “Okay. But at least try to get up a little today. Take a bath. Eat something, yeah?”
Lexi nodded obediently but her friend knew it didn’t mean anything. She had been lying in bed barely able to do anything more than blink or nod for the last three days. Eileen was sure it had something to do with Myrtle Warren, since she’d been like this ever since Hornby had come shrieking like a banshee when she found Myrtle’s body in the girl’s toilet. Lexi felt guilty somehow. Responsible. As if she could have somehow singlehandedly prevented it from happening. Which was absolute rubbish. Even if they’d been bosom buddies with that sodding crybaby, it probably still would have happened. If not her, then it just would have been someone else.
It was only a matter of time before that creature the Gryffindor kid had brought in the castle killed someone, right? You couldn’t control beasts like that. You just couldn’t. At first Eileen had wondered if Riddle had had something to do with the death and that’s what was bothering Lexi. But Riddle had caught the culprit yesterday, so at least that wasn’t it.
She wished Lexi didn’t feel so guilty. She was just too good, too tender hearted to be a Slytherin. And yet here they both were, and she was doing a shite job at protecting her right now. It made Eileen feel like the helpless little kid she’d always felt like at home before Hogwarts. Before Lex. “I’ll come check on you after charms, alright?” she said, gently tucking Lexi’s stringy hair behind her ears. This time Lexi leaned forward and clung to her. Her embrace was warm and soft, and Eileen’s heart melted and broke at the same time.
“It’s gonna be alright, Kid. You’ll see.” She muttered into Lexi’s hair, but she had no idea whether it was the truth. After an immeasurable moment, the two girls released their embrace, and Eileen left for class.
“Is she coming?” The voice of Tom Riddle startled Eileen as she made her way into the common room. She shrugged.
“She wants to stay in bed.” A slight twitch of annoyance betrayed the prefect’s otherwise impassive face.
“Have you gotten her to eat anything?” Eileen shook her head and Riddle scoffed irritably. “Fine. I’ll do it.” Eileen nodded and left him to it. She didn’t like Riddle. Or Volda-whatever his cronies were calling him these days, but if Lexi were to get out of bed for anything it’d be for him. So she left him to it. Back in the girl’s dormitory, Lexi lay in bed staring blankly at the emerald green canopy of her four-poster. Eileen had told her she ought to get up, to eat something, or maybe take a bath. Lexi knew she was right, knew she should be in class right now, but the very thought of moving felt impossible. It was as if her limbs were made of lead, every ounce of energy drained by the guilt gnawing away at her. The memory of Hornby’s panicked scream, of Myrtle’s lifeless body as Dippet and Dumbledore hurriedly carried it out of the washroom , of the immediate sense of dread that hit her, the sudden realization of exactly how and why Mrytle had died, replayed endlessly in her mind. Each time it did, the guilt weighed heavier, pressing her deeper into the mattress, suffocating her under its invisible burden. The physical act of standing, of walking out the dormitory door, seemed insurmountable. She was exhausted, not just from lack of sleep, but from an unrelenting, crushing guilt that left her numb and hollow.
"Lexi, come." Lord Voldemort’s command penetrated her mind, clear and sharp. He wanted her. Even now, the instinct to obey him stirred within her, but her body resisted, heavy and unyielding. Every part of her being seemed to reject the idea of moving from this spot. Time became a blur, the minutes stretching endlessly as she lay motionless. Then, he called her again, more insistent this time, the dark mark on her arm buzzing with a searing heat that she couldn’t ignore.
"Lexi. Now." She forced herself to respond, dragging her feet off the side of the bed with agonizing slowness. It felt as though she was wading through thick, suffocating fog, every movement a monumental effort. She had no sense of how long it took, only that each step was a battle. But eventually, she found herself standing before Lord Voldemort, her body weak, but her loyalty unquestionable.
“Sit,” he commanded, motioning to the seat next to him on the sofa and she complied. He looked her over, cold and appraising as he took in her fragile state. She was pale, eyes hollowed by sleeplessness, and she seemed utterly diminished, a shadow of the warm, adoring, bright eyed beauty he’d grown accustomed to having at his side. She was so bloody weak. And it annoyed him. There was no reason for her to be upset, no reason for this pathetic display.
That stupid sniveling mudblood girl was never anything more than an inconvenience, and he had dealt with it. He’d done it for her, actually. He could have just as easily chosen anyone for the basilisk to kill, but he'd targeted that particular snot nosed bespectacled horror because his Lexi had complained about her. She was an inconvenience for Lexi that he had removed. Lexi should be grateful, pleased even, that he had taken care of her problem, and in doing so furthered his own plans. But instead she sat here before him, limp and lifeless as if the world had ended. No matter. He’d snap her out of it.
“You will eat,” he commanded, glancing to a tray of fruit and bread on the side table he had brought down for her from breakfast. She blinked at him as if dazed, but made no move to comply. A wave of annoyance surged through him, but he quelled it, sliding closer, so that their bodies were touching. If she wouldn’t do as she was told on her own, then he would make her. He picked up a grape from the tray and held it to her lips. "Eat," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for disobedience. Lexi hesitated, but under his piercing gaze, she opened her mouth. Voldemort carefully slipped the food inside, watching her chew with an almost clinical detachment. But As he continued to feed her, a strange sensation began to creep over him. Her plump pink lips brushed against his fingertips, and he found himself distracted by the most ridiculous details of her form, the delicate curve of her neck, the way her hair, even tangled and unwashed, so perfectly framed her face, brushing her cheeks. It was an unwelcome distraction, one he wasn’t accustomed to feeling. Physical attraction was beneath him, a base instinct he typically ignored. But here, in this intimate act of feeding her, it stirred within him, and it only added to his irritation.
As she drank, his eyes traced the delicate line of her throat, the way it moved with each swallow. He was thorough, methodical, as he cared for her, ensuring she consumed enough before moving on to the next task. But as he watched her, those feelings stirred within him—feelings he rarely entertained. The sight of her lips, slightly parted as she sipped from the cup, drew his attention in a way that was unsettling. They were soft, a faint flush of color returning to them as she drank, and he found himself staring longer than necessary, thinking of the way it had felt when he had kissed her this past summer.
He finished giving her the drink, his knuckles brushing against her skin, noticing how smooth and warm it felt beneath his touch. The contact was fleeting, but it sent a spark through him that only heightened his irritation. This was not how it was supposed to be. She was supposed to be his devoted follower, not the source of these inconvenient desires. He forced himself to focus, to bury the unwanted thoughts beneath his usual cold calculation, but the pull of her presence was harder to ignore than he wanted to admit. On to the next task then.
“When did you last bathe?” She blinked at that, seeming a bit more coherent as a slight blush prickled her cheeks. She looked better like that, more like his Lexi. His treatment seemed to be working.
“You need a bath,” he repeated.
“Yes,” she agreed but made no move to comply with his implied command. He exhaled in annoyance. It seemed he’d have to do that for her as well. Fine then. He stood up and wordlessly picked her up, carrying her towards the bathroom.