Chaser 2 of Pride of Portree;
Prompt : S3R6 / Lesser Used Genres - Choose one of the genres from this round
Optional Prompts :(setting) a Muggle restaurant, (word) lamp, (dialogue) "Revenge is a dish best served with sprinkles."
Disclaimer : I wish I could say it's mine, but alas, it is not
Word count : over 1000
A/N : This is what a typical nightmare looks like for our dearest resident Dark Lord.:D
He found himself sitting in a familiar Muggle restaurant. A small, cosy looking place he hadn't thought of in over forty years — not since he had taken the locket from that obnoxious woman. Which is why he found himself wondering how he got there.
It must be a dream, he concluded, as he stared at the flickering candle on the table in front of him. It was the main source of light in the room, seeing as all the lamps were turned off. The situation itself was odd and it was slowly starting to creep him out — not that he'd ever admit it.
He heard a tapping noise behind his back and turned to look what was causing it. He froze as his eyes landed on his former classmate, who was sitting on the floor and tapping on a diary in a seemingly random pattern. The girl was as pale as ever but she seemed to be missing her ghostly figure. Suddenly, she lifted her head and looked him straight in the eyes. She stayed silent but her eyes were cold and accusing, daring him to do something. He didn't dare to blink, worried that she'd take it as a sign to do whatever she planned to. It was humorous, he guessed, that she was the one making him afraid.
He heard the rustling of cloth on his right and found himself face to face with what would be a mirror image of his thirty year old self. It was his father sneering at him just as he had that day. When he, along with his grandparents, had rejected him and confirmed his belief that all Muggles were just useless bigots that would forever be beneath him. And yet, here he was, with his ring on his finger. Acting as if he was his equal. He reached for his wand, as to teach the vermin a lesson, but stopped as he realized it wasn't there. He had a very, very bad feeling about this.
His fears were confirmed when a woman in her late twenties came out of a shadowed corner of the room. Her clothes were tattered and she had hand marks around her neck. She was the annoying Muggle tramp he had strangled and used to make the locket horcrux she now proudly wore around her neck. He looked up as he felt a hand settle on his shoulder. And there she was, old Hepzibah Smith herself, sipping vine from Hufflepuff's cup. He didn't need to see the old Albanian man standing next to her and holding a diadem to know where this was going.
There was a woman sitting two tables away from him, a large snake coiling around her feet. Her name was Bertha Jorkins. She was the one Wormtail had brought to him, he remembered, the one he got all the information about The Triwizard Tournament from. He could see Nagini's bite marks all over her body but she seemed not to mention them herself. She looked as if she was waiting for something, or someone. The feeling of wrongness increased as they all looked at the front door. It slowly opened with a loud creak that seemed to pierce the tension filled air.
That was when she came in. Her fiery hair and emerald green eyes a dead giveaway to her identity. Lily Potter in all her Gryffindor pride and glory walked up to him and took the seat across from him.
He felt as if he was looking at Death herself. Her eyes were ice cold and a sharp contrast to her sweet smile. They sat there for what could have been everything from a few seconds to eternity. He finally found the strength to open his mouth and ask the question that had been bothering him from the second he realised just what was happening.
"What is it that you want of me you cursed spirit?"
She kept on smiling as she looked at him. "Why won't you eat, aren't you hungry Tom?"
He flinched as she said his name in such a caring tone. "How do you know of that name? Has Dumbledore told you, is that it? Is he the puppet master behind all of this?" He gestured around the room.
"Relax, Tom. I assure you Dumbledore is not behind this. Now, do eat your meal, you are already too skinny as it is." She tutted, a sly smirk on her face.
His face heated up in anger. Who does she think she is, treating me like this? Besides… "There is no food here, just what do you expect me to eat?"
At this her eyes lit up with joy. "Don't tell me you can't see the food right in front of you? It would really be a shame to waste it. Especially after Hokey worked so hard on it. The ingredients were so hard to get after all. Though, I'm sure you know that better than anyone."
He was almost afraid to look down at this point, but Merlin damn it, he was a Dark Lord and he wouldn't be frightened so easily. Taking a deep breath, he looked down and almost lost the contents of his stomach. There, in front of him seemed to be a gruesome bowl of soup containing blood, bones, a hand and a small humanoid looking creature that reminded him of things he'd rather have forgotten. He was surprised when colorful sparkles seemed to appear on the gruesome picture.
He looked back up at the redhead who was still wearing that sly smirk while looking at his, even paler than usual, face. "Haven't you heard? Revenge is a dish best served with sprinkles." She chuckled at the expresion on his face, so much for that famous 'Slytherin mask'.
A clock chimed, indicating it was three am. Lily lost her smirk for a second before it came back twice as sharp.
"I'm afraid this is where we part, my dear. It's time to wake up now. Goodbye, Tom Marvolo Riddle."
The ground seemed to disappear from beneath his feet and he was falling. He shut his eyes out of instinct and then opened them again as he found himself sitting upright and panting in his bed at Slytherin Manor. He stood up and put on his robe. Knowing that he wouldn't be getting any sleep this night, he decided to finish reading the reports. He made a mental note to ask Severus for some dreamless potion.