Everlasting Summer

by June sky

Au. During Riddle's first year as a teacher he begins a love affair with a student who he believes is instrumental in his fate. He later used her as a means of bringing about the end of Dumbledore and to the rise of himself, to his Everlasting Summer.

Everlasting Summer

Professor Riddle breathed in the heavy, moist November and could have sworn it was June; except outside his classroom windows and all the windows of Hogwarts the leaves of were falling, in ones and two, to the ground.

His vivid eyes slipped past the shadowed walls and the bowed heads, and slithered down with the leaves as those last few minutes of first period went slipping by.

In the heat Voldemort saws the natural proof of his eternity. The length of life and power existed here; and this put a smile on the lips of the handsome professor. For his summer has begun…

Dumbledore has objected to him, "his youth and inexperience…lacking in knowledge and maturity (Fool Dippet had left the letter open laying on the desk.) But 'reason' was his.

At 18 Tom (Lord) Riddle (Voldemort) has begun his career at Hogwarts as the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.

Daily Prophet.July 31, 1945.

Around him was the scratching of several quills. HIS name, Lord Voldemort, would be scratched, engraved in the walls of this school. His noble blood would unearth the secrets from within. The Power and The World was His to own, to control.

LORD VOLDEMORT.

Triumph flowing into his innermost recesses Professor Riddle's blue eyes made a grand sweep of the classroom. They fell under the desk of a female student.

She had tiny ankles and black shoes. Above she existed plain and simple, but in the light, now shining in from a window to the left, of the Everlasting Summer Professor Riddle fell to his smallness. Now from the once simplicity and worthlessness of her being was might and wisdom; but above all, power (awaiting him). Margaret.

And now all the students stood up to leave. He watched her ankles trance by and from the corner of his eye, saw that the light had been extinguished by a passing cloud.

The classroom was darker now, the sky darkening for a storm. The air grew heavier and Professor Riddle began to think…

From a small sigh came a small chuckle. Margaret had probably never known the feel of a man's curious admiration. But could he deny…?

The fool knocked on the door.

"Enter."

The old man slipped in and stood near the door. "Professor Riddle, I thought I would be seeing you leave for lunch."

"I lost myself and the time for a moment." Riddle answered softly to the towering Dumbledore.

"Teaching has its drawbacks." Dumbledore smiled kindly, fatherly. "And they are by no means light."

Tom could see him, looking, spying in on him. The old man would not accept his defeat; he was a worm rotting the apple from within. And he questioned him, called Lord Voldemort the filth!

"Yes, things I never envisioned. But the good does eliminate everything else. I find great joy with the students, promise in their minds—aiding them down destined paths perhaps unseen to them." (Voldemort flexed)

"Indeed Professor Riddle." The infamous coldness of those ocean eyes swelled and crashed. "But I think we ought to be at least fashionably late to lunch." Dumbledore's aging voice had tightened from what he heard from the handsome young boy rotted with ignorance and ego.

"Of course." Rising from his first throne of power he crossed the short distance from the desk to the door. He opened the door with the grace and eases of a polished gentlemen and motioned for Dumbledore to take the lead to the Great Hall.

The corridors and stairways were littered with their palaver.

Outside the large, looming doors leading to the Great Hall, the old man took a giant stride, stopping Riddle mid-step.

"If you don't mind my asking"—Dumbledore held tight to the handle of the door while he smiled kindly—"I would like to take up some of your evening to discuss your position. I meant to converse with you earlier but as I'm sure you've experienced the chaos of the school year's first two months in session."

Riddle was unsure at that moment if his face has taken on that drooping look he seemed to take on in fits of ire. A child still?

"I'd be honored." But he had not lost his school boy charm: It was a persuasive (and deceiving) as power.

"Excellent."

With a sprightly jerk of his arm Dumbledore pulled open the door, revealing in splendid color the school holding its inhabitants in the cozy vastness of the smell of food and the company of friendship and worth.