Mrs. Riddle met Cecilia Dixon's eyes and stuttered for the first time in her life. "T-Tom – Tom's not here…h-he's gone…"
Cecilia stared at Mrs. Riddle, her future mother-in-law-to-be. Stared hard, as though trying to bore a hole through her. "Gone, gone where?" she asked weakly, "His summer house? You'd think he would have asked me to come, since we are going to be engaged soon, or at least tell me or…" Cecilia trailed off, knowing she was babbling. Trying to deny the truth that she saw, shining in Mrs. Riddle's eyes. "Not to the summer house?" she said quietly. Slowly, Mrs. Riddle shook her head. "Who is she?" The words came out before she could stop them, but that's what Mrs. Riddle's eyes were saying, that Tom had abandoned her for someone else. Cecilia was good at reading expressions. But that wasn't possible, simply not possible…
"Her name – is Merope Gaunt. He left us a note, explaining."
"Gaunt…" Cecilia felt herself start to shake, with what emotion, she wasn't sure. "That horrible tramp's daughter?" She shouted in disbelief. Anger, then. She was shaking with anger.
"My dear, come inside, there's no need to make a scene – this is enough of a scandal as it is –" Mrs. Riddle set a sympathetic hand upon her almost-daughter's arm lightly. Cecilia ripped free and ran – yes, ran – all the way home. She didn't care that her pristine, pure white dress got dusty on the way and she took no notice of the many people staring at her on the way.
Finally, she was back in her own room. Without pausing, she threw herself onto the bed and began to sob in a very unladylike manner. But she still didn't care – had Tom acted in a gentlemanly manner, after all, when he ran off with the tramp?
For hours, she lay facedown on her pillow, crying her eyes out. Eventually, though, her tears ran their course and she turned over, staring at the ceiling in despair. Had he loved her? All those murmured declarations of adoration, the poems, the flowers…
Cecilia turned her head to look at his latest floral gift – fresh-picked, wild violets, sitting on her bedside table in their pretty porcelain vase. They were so beautiful, her favorite flower. And Tom knew that. He knew everything about her, just like she knew everything about him…or she thought she had.
In a fit of irrational anger, Cecilia grabbed the vase and threw it across the room as hard as she could. It hit the opposite wall with a crash and broke, bits of porcelain, violets, and water going everywhere. She felt like crying again, but the tears wouldn't come.
He had abandoned her. Tom of all people – the most honorable and honest man she'd ever met. It was the reason she'd fallen in love with him. So, why? Why would he leave like this?
Suddenly, she stood up and left the room. She didn't bother to wash her face or change her dirtied clothes as was proper before leaving the house. Instead, she walked slowly out the door and, feeling like she was in a dream, made her way back to the Riddle house.
"I want to see the letter." She told the maid who answered the door. The maid curtsied and let her into the sitting room. Cecilia sat, and stared at the wall blankly, taking no more notice of the maid. Mrs. Riddle joined her soon thereafter, holding a small piece of paper. Tom, it seemed, had not wasted time on a lengthy explanation for his actions. Cecilia didn't know whether this should make her more angry or relieved. She compromised on neither until she read it.
My dear Mother, Father, and Cecilia,
Cecilia felt her breath catch – he had addressed her in the letter. Maybe he did have a legitimate reason that Mrs. Riddle had been unable to see…she read on hurriedly.
Merope Gaunt. I'm afraid I can write no more than her name. She is a beautiful, kind, amazing young women whom I am elated to say has declared her love for me. We have left Little Hangleton, we hope, forever and intend upon marrying as soon as possible. In all likelihood, you will never see me again.
Tom Riddle
As Cecilia read this heartless note, she felt her own heart harden. Beautiful, kind, and amazing, was Merope Gaunt, was she? Well, honest and honorable, Tom Riddle was most certainly not. He had not even included an apology nor was there any sign of sadness or regret in the letter. But it was his handwriting, without a doubt. "Thank you for showing this to me." She said stiffly, standing up."
"I'm so sorry, Miss Dixon…" Mrs. Riddle said tenderly. Cecilia pulled away.
"I need no sympathy from you, Mrs. Riddle. It's your son who's going to need sympathy, when I find him again." She swept out of the room.
Not one more tear for Tom Riddle would be shed by Cecilia Dixon. He hadn't cried for her, she wouldn't cry for him. He didn't deserve it. He didn't even deserve her thoughts.
Cecilia went home once more, determined to never think of the man she'd thought had loved her – that she thought she had loved – ever again.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
I don't know whether I'll continue this - I think it works fine as a one-shot, but I'll leave it as incomplete in case I decide to add more to it. Please review, and say whether you want another couple chapters.