Lost Girl
By Tigerlily
She wasn't supposed to be among muggles. If her family found out they would kill her. She? In a filthy mudblood bar? They would be appalled. Later, she wished she had never gone. Who knows? Her life might have been decent, even normal, if she hadn't wandered in that cool, rainy Sunday afternoon.
But she had, out of restlessness and boredom. The Easter holidays were here, and she had traveled back to her family's manor to spend it with them. The trip was miserable. Being an only child, the only company around was her parents. They were all right at first, but soon settled into the age-old patter of going about their daily business, hardly acknowledging they had a daughter. She had longed to go back to Hogwars, where she was top of the Slytherin house.
So, two days left till the end of her "vacation," she had snuck out of the house, just to go wandering for a while.
That was how she found that fateful old pub. That was where she had met Tom Riddle. She had spotted him across the room, ordering a beer. It was hard not to, actually. He was very handsome. with his neat clipped manner and dark tresses atop a pale face.
Gathering up her courage, she sat down beside him.
"Hello, sir. Who are you?" she had asked. He slowly looked up from his newspaper.
"Young lady! Addressing an unknown gentleman is highly inappropriate!" he scoffed at her.
'These muggles!' she thought, 'and their silly rules and manners.'
"I didn't mean to be rude, sir," she said, having a little fun. "I was just lonely and strayed in. What's your name?" And so their conversation began. What started out as something to do to pass the time turned into a long conversation with a dark, mysterious, fascinating man.
It was well into the evening before the man, Tom, excused himself to go home. She watched him go, feeling almost a little sad for the loss of his company. 'I'll come back tomorrow,' she thought.
**********
When the girl had first introduced himself, Tom Riddle had indeed found it most improper. But as he began talking to her, his cold, greedy heart started plotting.
It was time for him to settle down with a wife, he had decided. And this girl was perfect. If he could manipulate her to fall in love with him, his search was over.
She was old enough to marry, but young enough to be impressionable. He could still have his mistresses. She would not go to any pubs when they were married, she could be sure of that. He would teach her what was proper for a wife.
Breaking her spirit would be easy, even enjoyable. Tom Riddle allowed himself a rare smile as he lit his cigarette.
********
The girl spent the rest of her vacation visiting Tom. All the way up until her graduation, she used every chance she got to go and see him. Once she had left Hogwarts, She spent even more time with him. She felt as if she were the happiest girl on earth the day he proposed.
Her parents felt differently.
"Are you out of her mind?!" her father bellowed the day she sprung the news she would be married. And to a muggle, at that.
"Do you mean to tell me that you plan to marry a- a- MUGGLE?!" he screamed as his face got redder and redder.
"But he's not just any muggle!" she protested. "He's wonderful! And I love him!"
"And what is this 'love' you talk about? You're barley seventeen! You are a child! He cannot care for you! If you marry him, you'll have to give up you're magical ways! You will be lost in the world, with no one to go to!"
"I'll have him," she whispered quietly, as if reassuring herself.
"And what of your heritage?!" her father screamed, his face now a puffy, crimson color. "You are a decendat of the great Salaazar Slytherin himself! Doesn't that mean anything to you? Have you no respect? No grandchild of mind will be a mudblood!"
"I AM going to marry him! I'll give up my family, my heritage, my world, if I have to!" she shrieked, her face very pale.
"Then it will be so! You will never return to this house!" he roared as his voice seemed to reach its maximum volume. With those final words, he turned on his heal and quitted the room, his robes swishing behind him. He slammed the heavy oak doors behind him, making the noise echo throughout the chamber in which the girl and her mother now stood alone.
Her mother quietly turned her head to look at this daughter who was now so disgraced. "To think, a daughter of mind..." The mother, too, slowly turned around and softly went out the doors.
The girl stood in the empty chamber, for the first time, fully realizing how alone she now was.
**********
The summer after they were married was a cold one, the evening chill starting around six o'clock. It was one of these evenings in which Tom came home early, only to find his wife of a little less than a year practicing witchcraft.
She had only cracked open her dusty old school books to remember how to cast a sealant charm for one of the pots that was cracked. She had always kept her magic hidden from Tom, not even daring to ask indirectly what he thought of the subject. But when Tom had found her standing over a cauldron, wand in hand, the sinking feeling in her stomach told her it was all over.
What followed was a shouting match, not unlike the one almost a year before in which the girl had told her parent she was marring a muggle. She struggled desperately to get out of the way of his fists, but he was in such a rage, he didn't know what he was doing.
'For God's sake!' she thought frantically. 'I'm carrying his child!' But though Tom knew his young wife was three-months pregnant, he did not appear to care as he aimed blows to her frail body.
When he was almost entirely exhausted, and she was bruised, beaten, and bleeding, he grabbed her wrist and shoved her out the door into the chilly night air.
"Don't you dare come back," he told her harshly as he stood painting in the doorway. "I don't ever want to see you or your child again." He slammed the door shut.
For the second time in her life, the girl was utterly alone, and this time, she had no where to go.
*********
Six months later...
The girl walked heavily down the street, through the bitter cold. She was dressed all in green, and her belly was swollen with pregnancy. 'I just need to have this baby' she thought to herself. 'I have to survive long enough to birth my child.'
The girl was barely more than a child herself, her thick, black hair pulled away from her face.
She spied sanctuary up ahead: a restaurant. She could go in, sit at a little table in the back, and warm her frozen limbs.
The air was thick with cigarette smoke when she entered. She found a booth away from most of the chatter, and sat down, basking in the warmth. A waitress promptly came over, but the girl said she was still deciding. The truth was she didn't have any money.
She had been wandering all of England for six long months. Living only for the next day, and her baby. She hated Tom for his bitterness, his own hatred of her.
The strange thing was, despite all that had happed, she still loved him too.
The waitress was getting suspicious. She had to leave, pretend she had some important engagement she forgot. With a sigh, the girl pulled her tattered coat onto her shoulders and stepped back out into the icy night.
She felt her child give a kick, and her hand went to her stomach instinctively. Surely it would only be a few more days. She just had to wait, had to survive. Just a little while longer.
*****************
She was picking through the trash when she felt the first contraction. At first, didn't know what to think. What was happening? It was about an hour later when she realized she was going into labor.
At first, she panicked. How on earth was she going to get to a hospital? What hospital would take her without money? She had to take action soon, the pain was getting almost unbearable. Would she have her child in this alley, behind the dumpster?
An old man, about sixty years old and dressed in rags, came up to her. 'Oh no! Not now.' She thought to herself. She had been dealing with rift-rafts and creeps ever since she began her life on the streets.
"You need help, honey?" he asked her. She wanted to tell him to "get the hell out of here," but she couldn't because she was now doubled over in pain.
She felt him grab her arm, allowing her to steady herself enough to walk. What was he doing? Oh well, she couldn't fight anymore. She could feel him guiding her somewhere. Where? Bright lights. It was a hospital! She turned around to thank the man, but he was gone.
*********
It had been hours. How much longer was this going to take?
"Push!" demanded the doctor. The girl felt like screaming at him, "I am pushing! What do you know, you filthy mudblood?" but she held her tongue.
She screamed as yet another wave of pain rippled through her. At long last, she heard the cry of a baby. She flopped back onto her pillow, exhausted. Childbirth was not as easy as she had imagined.
"It's a boy!" a plump nurse in a crisp, white uniform announced as she handed the baby to the new mother.
He had the wrinkled, red face of a newborn, and a little black fuzz sprouting from his head. The girl cried in relief. This was her child! She had done it! He would live!
And she would take him away from these fitly streets. They would live in a house by the sea, where the light shined every day and every night glistened with stars. And Tom would come and live with them, and they would be a family.
But even as she thought the words, she knew it was merely a child's fancy. She would not live; she was dying even now. She had never been strong, and could only manage long enough to make sure her child had survived.
The doctors said she had lost too much blood, but wise people knew it was because she had simply lost the will to live. It didn't matter now that she was dying, her son, Tom's son, their son, would go on.
He would go to an orphanage, but that was of no consequence. He would go to Hogwarts soon enough, and be in Slytherin. He had ambition, and power. Most of all she could sense his power.
"Nurse!" she whispered to a white uniform nearby. "Please, take my baby. I can't hold him..." The nurse, realizing the young mother was dying, quickly gathered the newborn in her arms.
"Does he have a name?" she asked the girl.
"Yes," she responded clearly, but softly as she struggled to find the strength to sweep a black, sweaty lock of hair out of her eyes. "His name is Tom, after his father, and Marvolo, after his grandfather."
"Surname?" questioned the nurse.
"Riddle. Tom Marvolo Riddle." Her child's name was the last words the girl spoke. Even as the whispered the last, the light was fading from her dark, intense eyes.
With one last look at her son, she laid her head back to rest, and was gone from this earth.
**********
No was at the funeral. The day was cold and rainy, the perfect setting for a funeral.
The preacher closed his Bible, figuring it was pointless to read any more verses if no one was there.
He hated doing funerals like this; they always depressed him. He didn't even know who the deceased was. No one did, for that matter. They just knew she had had a son just before she died. He looked at her tiny gravestone, which read:
Unknown Mother
Died 1926
She was just another pauper who had managed to get herself pregnant. The little graveyard was full of similar gravestones.
The preacher shuttered, suddenly longing to go home to his wife and children. He was a simple man, preferring is tea straight and is desk dusted. Sad, complicated issues like this were best not thought about.
He bowed his head once, to pay final respects. Then he hurried out of there, leaving her alone, unknown, and forever a lost girl.
A/N I had a small story entitled "The Lost Girl", but it wasn't very good. So I went back and added a lot more. Thanx for reading! And if you review, I'll be overcome with joy.
Later :-)
By Tigerlily
She wasn't supposed to be among muggles. If her family found out they would kill her. She? In a filthy mudblood bar? They would be appalled. Later, she wished she had never gone. Who knows? Her life might have been decent, even normal, if she hadn't wandered in that cool, rainy Sunday afternoon.
But she had, out of restlessness and boredom. The Easter holidays were here, and she had traveled back to her family's manor to spend it with them. The trip was miserable. Being an only child, the only company around was her parents. They were all right at first, but soon settled into the age-old patter of going about their daily business, hardly acknowledging they had a daughter. She had longed to go back to Hogwars, where she was top of the Slytherin house.
So, two days left till the end of her "vacation," she had snuck out of the house, just to go wandering for a while.
That was how she found that fateful old pub. That was where she had met Tom Riddle. She had spotted him across the room, ordering a beer. It was hard not to, actually. He was very handsome. with his neat clipped manner and dark tresses atop a pale face.
Gathering up her courage, she sat down beside him.
"Hello, sir. Who are you?" she had asked. He slowly looked up from his newspaper.
"Young lady! Addressing an unknown gentleman is highly inappropriate!" he scoffed at her.
'These muggles!' she thought, 'and their silly rules and manners.'
"I didn't mean to be rude, sir," she said, having a little fun. "I was just lonely and strayed in. What's your name?" And so their conversation began. What started out as something to do to pass the time turned into a long conversation with a dark, mysterious, fascinating man.
It was well into the evening before the man, Tom, excused himself to go home. She watched him go, feeling almost a little sad for the loss of his company. 'I'll come back tomorrow,' she thought.
**********
When the girl had first introduced himself, Tom Riddle had indeed found it most improper. But as he began talking to her, his cold, greedy heart started plotting.
It was time for him to settle down with a wife, he had decided. And this girl was perfect. If he could manipulate her to fall in love with him, his search was over.
She was old enough to marry, but young enough to be impressionable. He could still have his mistresses. She would not go to any pubs when they were married, she could be sure of that. He would teach her what was proper for a wife.
Breaking her spirit would be easy, even enjoyable. Tom Riddle allowed himself a rare smile as he lit his cigarette.
********
The girl spent the rest of her vacation visiting Tom. All the way up until her graduation, she used every chance she got to go and see him. Once she had left Hogwarts, She spent even more time with him. She felt as if she were the happiest girl on earth the day he proposed.
Her parents felt differently.
"Are you out of her mind?!" her father bellowed the day she sprung the news she would be married. And to a muggle, at that.
"Do you mean to tell me that you plan to marry a- a- MUGGLE?!" he screamed as his face got redder and redder.
"But he's not just any muggle!" she protested. "He's wonderful! And I love him!"
"And what is this 'love' you talk about? You're barley seventeen! You are a child! He cannot care for you! If you marry him, you'll have to give up you're magical ways! You will be lost in the world, with no one to go to!"
"I'll have him," she whispered quietly, as if reassuring herself.
"And what of your heritage?!" her father screamed, his face now a puffy, crimson color. "You are a decendat of the great Salaazar Slytherin himself! Doesn't that mean anything to you? Have you no respect? No grandchild of mind will be a mudblood!"
"I AM going to marry him! I'll give up my family, my heritage, my world, if I have to!" she shrieked, her face very pale.
"Then it will be so! You will never return to this house!" he roared as his voice seemed to reach its maximum volume. With those final words, he turned on his heal and quitted the room, his robes swishing behind him. He slammed the heavy oak doors behind him, making the noise echo throughout the chamber in which the girl and her mother now stood alone.
Her mother quietly turned her head to look at this daughter who was now so disgraced. "To think, a daughter of mind..." The mother, too, slowly turned around and softly went out the doors.
The girl stood in the empty chamber, for the first time, fully realizing how alone she now was.
**********
The summer after they were married was a cold one, the evening chill starting around six o'clock. It was one of these evenings in which Tom came home early, only to find his wife of a little less than a year practicing witchcraft.
She had only cracked open her dusty old school books to remember how to cast a sealant charm for one of the pots that was cracked. She had always kept her magic hidden from Tom, not even daring to ask indirectly what he thought of the subject. But when Tom had found her standing over a cauldron, wand in hand, the sinking feeling in her stomach told her it was all over.
What followed was a shouting match, not unlike the one almost a year before in which the girl had told her parent she was marring a muggle. She struggled desperately to get out of the way of his fists, but he was in such a rage, he didn't know what he was doing.
'For God's sake!' she thought frantically. 'I'm carrying his child!' But though Tom knew his young wife was three-months pregnant, he did not appear to care as he aimed blows to her frail body.
When he was almost entirely exhausted, and she was bruised, beaten, and bleeding, he grabbed her wrist and shoved her out the door into the chilly night air.
"Don't you dare come back," he told her harshly as he stood painting in the doorway. "I don't ever want to see you or your child again." He slammed the door shut.
For the second time in her life, the girl was utterly alone, and this time, she had no where to go.
*********
Six months later...
The girl walked heavily down the street, through the bitter cold. She was dressed all in green, and her belly was swollen with pregnancy. 'I just need to have this baby' she thought to herself. 'I have to survive long enough to birth my child.'
The girl was barely more than a child herself, her thick, black hair pulled away from her face.
She spied sanctuary up ahead: a restaurant. She could go in, sit at a little table in the back, and warm her frozen limbs.
The air was thick with cigarette smoke when she entered. She found a booth away from most of the chatter, and sat down, basking in the warmth. A waitress promptly came over, but the girl said she was still deciding. The truth was she didn't have any money.
She had been wandering all of England for six long months. Living only for the next day, and her baby. She hated Tom for his bitterness, his own hatred of her.
The strange thing was, despite all that had happed, she still loved him too.
The waitress was getting suspicious. She had to leave, pretend she had some important engagement she forgot. With a sigh, the girl pulled her tattered coat onto her shoulders and stepped back out into the icy night.
She felt her child give a kick, and her hand went to her stomach instinctively. Surely it would only be a few more days. She just had to wait, had to survive. Just a little while longer.
*****************
She was picking through the trash when she felt the first contraction. At first, didn't know what to think. What was happening? It was about an hour later when she realized she was going into labor.
At first, she panicked. How on earth was she going to get to a hospital? What hospital would take her without money? She had to take action soon, the pain was getting almost unbearable. Would she have her child in this alley, behind the dumpster?
An old man, about sixty years old and dressed in rags, came up to her. 'Oh no! Not now.' She thought to herself. She had been dealing with rift-rafts and creeps ever since she began her life on the streets.
"You need help, honey?" he asked her. She wanted to tell him to "get the hell out of here," but she couldn't because she was now doubled over in pain.
She felt him grab her arm, allowing her to steady herself enough to walk. What was he doing? Oh well, she couldn't fight anymore. She could feel him guiding her somewhere. Where? Bright lights. It was a hospital! She turned around to thank the man, but he was gone.
*********
It had been hours. How much longer was this going to take?
"Push!" demanded the doctor. The girl felt like screaming at him, "I am pushing! What do you know, you filthy mudblood?" but she held her tongue.
She screamed as yet another wave of pain rippled through her. At long last, she heard the cry of a baby. She flopped back onto her pillow, exhausted. Childbirth was not as easy as she had imagined.
"It's a boy!" a plump nurse in a crisp, white uniform announced as she handed the baby to the new mother.
He had the wrinkled, red face of a newborn, and a little black fuzz sprouting from his head. The girl cried in relief. This was her child! She had done it! He would live!
And she would take him away from these fitly streets. They would live in a house by the sea, where the light shined every day and every night glistened with stars. And Tom would come and live with them, and they would be a family.
But even as she thought the words, she knew it was merely a child's fancy. She would not live; she was dying even now. She had never been strong, and could only manage long enough to make sure her child had survived.
The doctors said she had lost too much blood, but wise people knew it was because she had simply lost the will to live. It didn't matter now that she was dying, her son, Tom's son, their son, would go on.
He would go to an orphanage, but that was of no consequence. He would go to Hogwarts soon enough, and be in Slytherin. He had ambition, and power. Most of all she could sense his power.
"Nurse!" she whispered to a white uniform nearby. "Please, take my baby. I can't hold him..." The nurse, realizing the young mother was dying, quickly gathered the newborn in her arms.
"Does he have a name?" she asked the girl.
"Yes," she responded clearly, but softly as she struggled to find the strength to sweep a black, sweaty lock of hair out of her eyes. "His name is Tom, after his father, and Marvolo, after his grandfather."
"Surname?" questioned the nurse.
"Riddle. Tom Marvolo Riddle." Her child's name was the last words the girl spoke. Even as the whispered the last, the light was fading from her dark, intense eyes.
With one last look at her son, she laid her head back to rest, and was gone from this earth.
**********
No was at the funeral. The day was cold and rainy, the perfect setting for a funeral.
The preacher closed his Bible, figuring it was pointless to read any more verses if no one was there.
He hated doing funerals like this; they always depressed him. He didn't even know who the deceased was. No one did, for that matter. They just knew she had had a son just before she died. He looked at her tiny gravestone, which read:
Unknown Mother
Died 1926
She was just another pauper who had managed to get herself pregnant. The little graveyard was full of similar gravestones.
The preacher shuttered, suddenly longing to go home to his wife and children. He was a simple man, preferring is tea straight and is desk dusted. Sad, complicated issues like this were best not thought about.
He bowed his head once, to pay final respects. Then he hurried out of there, leaving her alone, unknown, and forever a lost girl.
A/N I had a small story entitled "The Lost Girl", but it wasn't very good. So I went back and added a lot more. Thanx for reading! And if you review, I'll be overcome with joy.
Later :-)