A short drabble about Tom Riddle's Christmas at the orphanage, when he was 7 years old.
The small and pale, but handsome boy was seated, unmoving in a hard wood chair by the feeble fireplace. It would be an overstatement to call him a child, even though that was what he was. His cheeks were already unnaturally hollow, not rotund like a normal child's, and there was no innocence in his cold grey eyes.
It had been only seven years since he had turned up to the orphanage, since he had been born actually, he had never known life apart from this wretched place.
As the small and pale, handsome boy sat, unmoving, in his hard wood chair by the feeble fireplace, he noticed, but chose to ignore, the pitter-patter of footsteps that signalled someone else had entered the room.
"Fancy seeing you here, Tom. On Christmas Eve." said the person.
It was Becky Jonkman, a girl of nine who was looked up to by all of the younger children. Not Tom, though. Tom didn't look up to anyone.
"What's it to you?" snapped Tom, rather rudely.
"I just supposed you would be downstairs, singing the carols with the rest of us," Becky said, her curly brown hair quivering. They both knew she hadn't really thought he would celebrate with the other children. No one expected Tom to socialize unless he could gain something from it.
"Carols are no interest to me. We've got nothing to sing about and no one who wants to listen! We haven't got presents, or nice food, or nothing! What have we got?"
He'd meant it as a rhetorical question, but Becky, being her optimistic self, answered anyway.
"We've got each other," she took a few steps towards Tom and he pointedly looked away. "And that's what Christmas is all about."
Tom had never understood the meaning of Christmas, nor had he ever had someone to explain it to him, nor had he ever wanted to understand the meaning of Christmas, but somehow, in Becky's short little answer, it dawned on him.
Becky Jonkman had known love. Her parents had died six months ago, she as a new kid at the orphanage. Her parents had loved her like he would never understand. Tom didn't understand love because he was dropped here having never known it. Becky Jonkman had known it.
"Come on Tom, come downstairs with the rest of us," she reached out her hand and, after much deliberation, Tom Riddle took it. For once in his life he would forget he was special, forget that he was cut out for bigger and more grandeur things than this orphanage and Becky Jonkman, and would never celebrate something as pure and good as Christmas again.
"I'll play you in cards," Becky added as the two children walked down the rickety old steps.
"I'll win," said Tom coldly.
"Okay," Becky chuckled.
Then, the strangest thing happened. Tom Riddle smiled, and it was genuine.
I hope some of you enjoyed that. I attempted to make things believable, but I know Tom was super out of character. Reviews are always welcome!
xHave A Very Harry Christmasx