The first stirrings – Early December 1965
Tom Marvolo Riddle – otherwise known as the Heir of Slytherin – was sat in his front room, the news quietly droning on in the background, but he wasn't listening to it too hard as his attention was focused on his fiancee. She was lounging next to him, her head resting on his shoulder as she told him about her day, something they always did at this time.
"Is something wrong?"
She asked him, noticing that he seemed more distant than usual and he turned to her, making an effort to smile even though it was strained. He'd never tell her what was bugging him, not with this anyways. He'd left that all behind several years ago, and now dismissed his previous actions by putting it down to being young and misguided, although he'd kept his horcruxes intact.
"No, not really." He lied, although for once not very convincingly "I think I'll take a shower though."
She nodded, not buying into it but realizing that he likely wanted some space to think over whatever it was. He never liked to burden her with his own issues, and even though she'd of liked to be able to help him resolve them, she knew he was more than capable of handing things on his own.
He'd tried over the last few years to ignore his frustration with the wizarding world along with his contempt of how he had to pretend to be unimportant, to repress and hide what was in his blood. But he'd done it: for her, there was little he wouldn't of done, and he knew it was for the best. It'd only cause problems if she and other people knew, and he knew he should be happy with his situation. He lived in a prestigious house that he shared with his fiancee, they had a nice relationship, his job was comfortable... and yet he couldn't help but what something more, something to break the monotonous stifling. He broke away from such thoughts as he forced the water to be cold, hoping it might help in some fashion, despite knowing it was rather foolish to think as much.
Not wanting to worry her, he walked down to dinner, his hair mostly dry and combed back. Sitting down, she placed a plate of food in front of him and gently asked him if he was feeling better, as if she was worried what the answer might be. Smiling reassuringly, he thanked her for the meal and lied with far greater aputitude than previously, and she seemed to fall for it as her face softened with relief.
"My parents are coming over next week Tom. I know you're quite busy with work at the moment, but..."
It'd taken him ages to not inwardly bristle at people calling him that, even if everyone did, considering no one knew the link between Tom Riddle and the Slytherin bloodline. Taking another bite of his food to avoid immediately answering, he nodded, saying he would make time. After all, it wasn't like he had anything else to do.