Inner Thoughts Chapter 1
Rebecca Noel sat in front of the lake, waiting for Draco's arrival.
Should I do this? She thought, Is it right?
"But of course it is kitten… that is… unless you wish for him to die," came the reply. Sadly the reply was not that of her conscience, but that of Tom Riddle, more commonly known as Voldemort. From the time she was eleven, trapped in the chamber of secrets alongside one of her best friends Ginny Weasley, both kidnapped by a memory, Tom Riddle had infiltrated her mind, her being the only other descendant of Salazar Slytherin. Ginny was merely a tool in which Tom had used and left; Rebecca's situation was more permanent, leaving her with a fraction of Tom Riddle's soul within her own body by way of a Dark Mark burnt into her chest, about three inches below her collarbone. The only reason for her kidnapping by the memory was the blood of Salazar Slytherin running through her veins, and her ability to speak the language of snakes. Though her bloodline had put her through much misery, it had also given her everything that she cared most about. Rebecca fell into the thoughts of her past.
She remembered meeting the boy that is now the man she is in love with for the first time, when she was about five. She had been running across her family manor's meadow located just north of Paris, France. It was nearly Christmas and it was slightly snowing. Young Rebecca held out her furry mitten and caught one of the diamond-like flakes in it. By the time she had pulled her mitten to her face to examine it, it had melted into her tiny green mitten.
She sighed sadly. The young girl had been told to go play outside until her family was done doing business with one of Britain's finest wizard business families, the Malfoys. She had been told that the two white blonde headed people had a son about her age, but she had yet to see him. Rebecca plopped down in the snow and sniffed, feeling as though her parents never had time for her.
"Girl," a small voice from behind her said, "Why are you sad?"
Rebecca whipped her head around, long golden orange hair flying in all directions. She understood him, yes. Her parents taught her English as a second language when she was younger, and used it often around the house.
"Sad?" she asked standing up, "I'm not sad."
"But you sniffed," the little boy with white blonde hair said, pointing out the obvious, "You sounded sad."
Walking up to the boy, Rebecca realized that this had been the boy her parents told her about, the son of the Malfoys.
"I'm fine. I'm not sad; it's just cold out here."
"Yes," the boy agreed, "Quite cold."
"Would you like to play with me?"
"Play?" the boy asked, seemingly astonished, "I don't play! I am a Malfoy! I don't have time for petty little games."
"Why wouldn't you? You look around my age."
"No," he corrected, puffing out his chest, "I am six. You are five."
"Still a kid," Rebecca giggled.
"No!"
"Yes!"
"No!"
"Yes!"
Rebecca could have gone on tormenting the boy for hours. She found his defensiveness quite amusing, given his age.
"No!"
"You need to loosen up a bit!" Rebecca said, stepping up to him, "Have some fun! Oh I have an idea! Let's make snow angels!"
"Snow angels? I've tried before, but father looked at me like I was mad… I only wanted to do what the kids in the story books did…" The boy smiled sadly down at her.
"Your father isn't watching now is he? Come on I'll do it with you!"
Rebecca fell back into the snow giggling, flailing her arms around in the snow. The young blond took one look at her and began laughing. Before long he too had allowed himself to fall into the snow and make snow angels.
Of course, Rebecca scarcely recalled the memory, and questioned if it truly was the boy she had grown to love so. She thought back to the time when got her letter to Hogwarts.
"Maman, maman, maman," Rebecca ran into the Noel Manor, through the foyer, from hall too hall, calling to her mother until she found her in the sitting room, "Regardez! Quelque chose est venu à la poste pour moi! Il dit: "'Ogwarts" Sur le dos!"
"Ah ah," said the beautiful woman sitting before her, "English."
Rebecca sighed. Veela can be so stubborn.
"MOM, MOM, MOM," She shouted in spite of her mother, "Look! Something came in the mail for me, and it says "Hogwarts" on the back! I thought I was going to Beauxbatons, not Hogwarts! That is all the way in Britain!"
"Well, the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, is a close friend of ours. He knows of our bloodlines."
"It seems that I don't…"
"Well you have a Veela mother-"
"State the obvious, why don't you."
"And your father is French. Up his family tree a bit you will find Stella Salazar. Stella was the daughter of Salazar Slytherin, a founder of Hogwarts, and the head of Slytherin house. Her mother was a banshee, and being a half blood, Salazar disapproved of her. So she ran away to France."
"Oh… So I am going to Hogwarts?"
"Yes. You are to stay with the Weasleys. I'm sure you remember them."
"Oui, I do…" Rebecca wandered to her room where she pondered the thought of going to a magical school, thousands of miles away, only being able to see her family once a year for the next seven years.
Rebecca smiled as she remembered the time she formally met her blond prince.
She sat in the back of flourish and blots leaning against Fred Weasley as he and his twin George looked through several different joke books. Fred was always her favorite, and he had been having mixed feelings about him at that time, as she was sure he was having the same mixed feelings for her.
Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ginny, Ron, and Percy (Weasleys) came from the front of the store where Molly Weasley (their mother) was getting books signed by Gilderoy Lockheart, when a familiar blond boy strode down from the second floor.
"Bet you loved that didn't you Potter? Famous Harry Potter can't even get into a book shop without making the front page."
"Leave him alone!" Ginny hissed.
"Oh look Potter," the blond boy laughed, "You got yourself a girlfriend!"
The twins scowled at the boy. Fred hugged me against his chest as a walking stick came down on the blonde's shoulder.
"Now now Draco, play nicely-"
"Rebecca!" a deep masculine voice shook Rebecca from her memory. Her love was standing in front of her, a look of deep confusion, anger, sadness, desperation, and lust covered his face.
"Draco…" she whispered.
Draco Malfoy grabbed Rebecca's hand, yanking her up, and dragging her to the castle. From stone corridor to corridor, staircase after staircase, she struggled to keep up with his quick pace. He made a turn towards the Slytherin prefect's dorms, which unlike the rest of the students' dorms were in a small tower. He dragged her into a room covered in black and silver draping décor, a room so organized it could only be Draco Malfoy's room.
Once the door was shut and locked properly, Draco turned around with tears in his eyes. Fifteen year old Rebecca had almost never seen Draco cry. Not in the ten year she knew him.
"Draco!" she breathed as the pair stepped closer to each other. With each step, Draco's legs became more and more weak. When they met in the center of the room, Draco collapsed on his knees, hugging her legs and bum to his chest as he sobbed. Rebecca silently stroked the hair of her sixteen year old beauty.
Tom, thought Rebecca, Please, if anything, please stop injuring Draco! Stop injuring him for my sake!
She spotted the blood on the back of Draco's uniform vest. He'd recently returned from a visit to the Dark Lord.
Ah but dear Rebecca, Tom's voice echoed through her head, you are the reason of his pain. If you would only do as I ask, then young Draco would be less than injured.
Rebecca let out a breath of air she didn't know she was holding. Her dazzling red bangs fell across her silver eyes and tears escaped them.
Damn this mental connection! She thought.
Kitten, Tom soothed, I'm sure after all these years you have grown to love it.
An unseen hand she knew belonged to Tom caressed her cheek, and she collapsed into Draco's embrace, also sobbing. Together, the icy blond with a cold hard seemingly impenetrable mask, and the fiery redhead with the good looks of a Veela, whose ferocity matched her hair, cried for all the Tom Riddle had done to their lives.