This idea randomly popped into my brain the other day. Doesn't really have too much of a plot, but I know how I'll end and start it. I just may need some prompts for in between. Something (hopefully) fluffy and (slightly) humorous. We'll see how it goes.
Tom Riddle was sad. Well, not sad. Desolate, really. Miserable. Dejected.
It was the stupid orphans.
His stupid fellow orphans.
They'd been learning about animals.
Snakes, to be exact.
Tom really liked snakes.
He had raised his hand to ask a question.
"What language do snakes speak?"
That had earned him a confused look. The other children giggled quietly.
"Tom, dear...snakes don't speak."
"Yes, they DO!"
"Tom, listen. Snakes and other animals REALLY DON'T-"
"YES THEY DO!"
Tom had launched into a loud bout of hissing, garbled and shrill.
"SEE?" Tom proclaimed. Everyone stared at him. He shrank a little into his seat. "It sounds like that." He mumbled.
Then the ENTIRE CLASS had burst into hysterical laughter. Tom slumped down even further.
"Now, now, it's not very nice to laugh at Tom..."
"But he's so FUNNY!" One child jeered. Tom's face grew red.
"Tom just asked a question..."
"A STUPID question!" More laughter.
"Tom ALWAYS asks stupid questions." Tom sniffed. He felt tears forming in the corners of his eyes.
He was NOT going to cry. He was six years old. Six year olds didn't cry.
Apparently six year olds could think of many, many, insults.
Tom's bottom lip had trembled and quaked as the other children got creatively mean.
He was NOT going to cry. He was NOT going to cry. He was NOT going to cry...in front of the others.
Stifling sobs, he leaped to his feet and ran towards the door.
"TOM!"
But nothing was going to stop him.
He sprinted all the way into his room and slammed the door before falling onto his bed and curling into a ball, sobbing.
This is where he was now. The tears had dried up a few minutes earlier, and now he was just rocking, choking in breaths through a stuffy red nose.
A bang on the door startled him.
"Tom! What on Earth do you think you're doing in there! Why aren't you outside with the others and that kind visiting zoologist?"
It was the matron.
But Tom wasn't paying attention.
Tom wasn't paying attention because he wasn't the only one startled by the matron's loud knock.
"Leave me alone." Tom called through his stuffy nose, red rimmed eyes fixated on a small, emerald green snake stretched out in front of his bed that had been startled out of a hole in the wall.
"Don't speak to me that way, Tom!"
"Leave me alone please."
"Tom..."
"I'll be back down in a minute."
"Alright Tom. Hurry up, though!"
"Okay!"
Tom was lying through his teeth.
He had no intention of going back down there.
He watched the snake.
Tom liked snakes.
He liked the way they tasted the air with their tongues. Smelled the air with their tongues.
The way their sinuous bodies slid against the ground.
The way their shimmery scales reflected the light at a certain angle, and camouflaged perfectly the next.
Their beautiful eyes.
And this snake had especially beautiful eyes.
They were almond shaped and golden, with hazel tinting the edges.
The slit-like pupil was a deep black.
And, for some reason he couldn't explain, this snake's eyes were...intuitive?
They looked right through him, yet stared intently like they understood his every word, his every thought.
The little snake didn't run away. It just looked at Tom.
"Are you wondering about my face?"
The snake seemed to nod.
"It looks like this because I was crying."
The snake cocked it's head.
"I was crying because I was sad."
Another head cock.
"I'm sad because I don't have any friends."
The snake looked at Tom. The light blinked off of it's eyes.
Tom leaned over his bed until his head was almost above the snake.
The snake didn't move.
"Would you like to be my friend?" Tom asked very quietly.
The snake's tongue flickered out once.
Tom took that as a yes.
