AN: This was written for Fanfiction Idol over on HPFC. It's my first piece for the first round after auditions, with the instruction of writing a Riddle era fic. This is my first attempt at the era, character and second person writing style. I hope it's alright. Please remember to review and to also check out the other entrants' work. :)
Enchanted.
If Tom Riddle had his way he'd need not food nor water. He'd live on naught but the sight of those falling to his will before him and the sounds of his enemies' last breaths. He parts crowds in the corridor like he's Christ himself, then retreats behind closed doors to resume the devil's work.
It may as well be his castle, the way he's treated like its king. They may as well be his people, the way they obey his every word.
If he gets his way -and he always does- they soon will be.
They'd almost deserve it, because, oh, how they fall to serve him. Oh, how they fall for him. And you're no different, just one of hundreds.
(And you thought you were special)
He's got the face of an angel and he wears his robes so neat and his hair so perfectly combed and his manners are impeccable and he has this charm he can flick on like a switch and noone,is completely immune. Everyone falls in love with Tom Riddle.
That's the thing, you see. They all love him, but no one can truly like Tom Riddle.
Shallow beauty disguises the beast within. There's only a glimpse of it in the cruel glint in his glistening brown eyes and it peaks out in the upturned corner of his killer's smirk. But you don't see the signs. It's only your innermost self which is struck with the cruel hard terror you should be feeling. Your conscious mind has been trapped by the beautiful façade and the monster within licks its lips at the thought of your inevitable demise. Your most primal instincts scream to you of only two options; flee or obey.
And he's just so pretty, just so perfect, that by Merlin, you're not doing anything but the latter.
(Do his kind words make you feel beautiful?)
Tom Riddle may look human, but sweetheart, do not be deceived. He is nothing like you. Feelings, emotions? He knows only the dictionary definitions. He does not care about another living soul, especially not you. He does not love like you can, like you do. And he laughs in the face of all who do.
You're the lamb to the slaughter and you don't even know it. A cloth of the finest fabric has been tied over your eyes and you're smiling all the way through. Pureblood princess, you're the perfect jewel for his chest, but you'll darken to coal and disintegrate into ash before you'll take your place in the slab of ice he calls his heart.
You're blinded, you still can't see -really see-and you do everything he says just because he asks so nicely and his smile makes you weak at the knees. Stupid girl, do you not see all you're so carelessly throwing away? Does your young life flash not flash before your eyes at each order he gives like it will once you make that foolish, foolish mistake and his beauty cracks and the illusion fades and you're struck at once with all the fear you didn't know you were repressing.
Do you still love him when he fires that curse at your chest?
(And you thought you meant something.)