AUTHOR'S NOTE: Written for Prompt for 30th, Thursday of September: I can't feel nothin at all

Extra Prompts: Skin, addicted, wrong

Tom traced the dark red lines with his fingers. It was a little slimy, with moss growing on it, but the symbol was still vivid. He felt a tingling sensation at the back of his neck, as his skin contacted the serpentine lines. The cut on his forefinger, merely a scab now, had contributed the blood with which the sign had been painted. His sign - the sign by which everyone in the world would know him. Tom did not know how he would achieve such success, but somehow it drove him towards... he had not even decided what he wanted to be famous for. He just had to be famous, respected and revered that's all. He wanted to be immortal in the memory of all the wizards who would see him rise above everyone. He knew some would deem it wrong, exactly how far he could go for it, but Tom was a loner. He did not need anyone's approval or consent to give in to his addiction - yes, that's how he shamelessly acknowledged his dream.

A cold wind blew and Tom shuddered. Soon, it would be winter and he would not be able to come to this spot, his secret spot by the edge of the woods. It would be too cold and bitter to sit by the Lake. But he would miss these quiet moments, when he could just imagine where he would be exactly ten years from then.

"Hello."

Tom almost fell off the rock he was sitting on. He swung back, his wand out and shouted. "Who's there?"

He was so sure someone from the woods had come, he pointed his wand towards the dark depths of the wood. It was then he saw a small, meek girl standing a few feet from him. She was so heavily wrapped in warm clothes, she looked like a big lump of wool.

"Who are you?" snapped Tom, irritated and angry that such a small girl can scare the wits out of him.

"I'm Delia. Delia Sheridan," she said meekly. At Tom's lack of recognition, she said, "I'm in Hufflepuff. We have Potions together."

"What do you want?"

"I - I wanted to ask if you would go to Hogsmeade with me."

Tom was neither surprised nor happy. One has to care to be either. "No," he snapped. He did not ask why she wanted to go to Hogsmeade with him, or why she had come down to the lake on such a frosty evening, or how she had found out he spent much of his time here. His immediate conclusion was that she had been spying on him.

"How did you know I was here?" he asked bluntly.

"You come down here everyday," she said innocently.

"Then you keep a watch on me?" Tom's voice was rising.

"Wha - n-no! I saw you coming one day, completely by chance."

"By chance, is it? Is that why you lurk behind after Potions, by chance waiting to see if Professor Slughorn is teaching me more?"

Delia blushed, visibly. "No, that's not why... I don't lurk. I wanted to talk to you.." Her voiced trailed away, and she looked down at her feet.

Tom scowled, but did not say anything. Really, he was trying to work out her motive - she looked too small for something drastic, but Tom knew better than to trust someone because of their meek stature.

Delia pried a nervous look at his face, which must have looked quite unfriendly, because she dropped her glance in a hurry again.

That's when Tom realized, he knew Delia. She was in Slug Club for... oh he never really cared to know who was in for what! But she looked different now - small, instead of petite, as she did in Slug Club parties. Maybe she had too many coats on.

Tom remembered how irritated he was when Delia, with a string of boys flocking her, sat with him. He had poorly concealed his annoyance, as she had tried to make conversation, in that same halting manner, until he had left the table. Not that she wasn't a pleasure to look at, but Tom didn't have time for that. He had had other important issues on his mind - like coaxing Slughorn to lend him his copy of The Old and Forgotten Curses of the Middle Ages. Tom could distincly remember her crestfallen face when he had left her table. She had looked fetching, with large eyes, and a very glossy look he couldn't quite comprehend. It was like she was part of a picture, and was not really there with everyone else in the room. It had intrigued him, but only so. He hadn't even looked back once, after he had left the table.

Wait a second, what am I thinking? Tom reprimanded himself inwardly, for getting distracted like that.

He saw Delia staring at him curiously - his flooding of memory had strangely manifested on his face. He must have looked weak, he thought bitterly.

So, trying hard to sound intimidating, he snarled, "Well, what are you waiting for? I said I won't go with you, didn't I? And for future reference, don't bother asking again. I won't go."

Delia looked surprised, probably because he must have looked like considering her proposal. Hurt and insulted, she mumbled a 'see you later', before stumbling back towards the castle.

"Stupid girl," he growled, under his breath.

~ανα∂α кє∂ανяα~

"Hey, Tom, what the hell were you doing out in the grounds? It's freezing!"

Tom turned on his heel to see Morphius Clemens, the Slytherin Head Boy, looking at him curiously.

"It's not that cold," he said stoically, though his cheeks were tingling raw from the cruel winds.

"Yeah, well if you feel too cold, go to Madam Prichard and ask for some medicinal Firewhisky. Slughorn will pin me if his precious Tom Widdle collapses here," he sniggered.

"Shut up Clemens, I can take care of myself. And I'm not going to collapse. I can't feel anything at all," he said curtly and headed to the dormitory.

Tom sat on his four-poster longer than he had intended. Why was Sheridan so eager, to talk to him anyway? Did she know that he stole the books from the library's Restricted Section? Did she see his mark?

After mulling over the questions inside his head for about half an hour, Tom reached the conclusion that his refuge at the edge of the forest was no longer safe. He would return tomorrow to rub his mark off the rock. No one must know...