A/N: Don't own, don't sue!

Full Summary: A new girl at Hogwarts gets under Tom Riddle's skin.

Pairings: Tom Riddle/OC

Rating: M

Author Babble: As yet I haven't decided if it's more than a one short or not. Lyrics from "Into the Night" by Santana & Chad Kroeger

Control

Like a gift from the heavens, it was easy to tell
It was love from above, that could save me from hell
She had fire in her soul it was easy to see
How the devil himself could be pulled out of me
There were drums in the air as she started to dance
Every soul in the room keeping time with there hands
And we sang
Ay oh ay oh ay oh ay
And the voices bang like the angels sing
We're singing
Ay oh ay oh ay oh ay
And we danced on into the night
Ay oh ay oh
Ay oh ay oh
And we danced on into the night
Like a piece to the puzzle that falls into place
You could tell how we felt from the look on our faces
We was spinning in circles with the moon in our eyes
The room left them moving between you and I
We forgot where we were and we lost track of time
And we sang to the wind as we danced through the night
And we sang
Ay oh ay oh ay oh ay
And the voices bang like the angels sing
We're singing
Ay oh ay oh ay oh ay
And we danced on into the night
Ay oh ay oh
Ay oh ay oh
And we danced on into the night
Ay oh ay oh
Ay oh ay oh
And we danced on into the night
Like a gift from the heavens, it was easy to tell
It was love from above, that could save me from hell
She had fire in her soul it was easy to see
how the devil himself could be pulled out of me
There were drums in the air as she started to dance
Every soul in the room keeping time with there hands

She was sitting on her own the first time he saw her. Calmly working her way through her plate of pancakes. Her long golden hair tumbled around her shoulders in waves. Many of the boys were staring at her, some openly and some peeking awkwardly. Lestrange was quite blatantly watching her with some interest. She finished her breakfast, pushed her plate away and took a refreshing gulp of pumpkin juice. Tom almost frowned. Why had he never noticed her before? All the pretty girls, and many of the not-so-pretty girls, gazed adoringly at him most of the time. Even the Gryffindors.

As if she sensed him looking, she turned slowly. Her eyes were vivid cobalt blue, ringed by a circle of midnight blue. She met his gaze impassively, not a flicker of interest crossing those dazzling orbs. Enraged to have been caught staring like a common drooling teenager, Tom got abruptly to his feet and swept out of the Great Hall. Within moments Lestrange and Avery were at his heels, avidly discussing the girl under their breath.

"I heard she transferred in." Avery was almost panting with excitement, his skinny face alight with anticipation. "Some third rate school no one's ever heard of."

Tom marched through the corridors, scattering younger students like rats. They scurried out of his way when they saw the Prefect badge on his chest. He had a free period until Transfiguration. Avery and Lestrange did not. After following him for a bit longer, they reluctantly retreated.

Tom wandered for a while, traversing the corridors nobody else knew of. He was passing through one of the secret passages which overlooked the lake when he saw her again. Her yellow hair was unmistakable. She seemed to be circling the lake thoughtfully. Her hair shone in the early morning sunlight, swinging with each step. He was mesmerised.

Appalled with himself he gave his head a shake and headed straight for the hidden room where he kept his research. He'd bury himself in his work. Drive all thoughts of that golden-haired wench from his mind.

It would have worked, had she not been innocently sitting at the back of his Transfiguration class when he got there. Avery and Lestrange were already in their usual seats on the back table waiting for him. He realised that they'd left the seat besides her empty for him. He smirked and took it.

She turned that unsettling gaze on him briefly and then turned back towards the front. Professor Dumbledore entered with his usual grace and conversations halted. Dumbledore's sharp blue eyes rested momentarily on the girl, then Tom, and then took in the entire class.

"Firstly, unpleasant though it may be, I must retrieve your homework assignments." There was a general rustle of parchment as people dug into their bags for their work. "Those with excuses may form an orderly line at the end of class."

Avery shifted a little in his seat. Tom ignored him. His own assignment lay before him. Dumbledore flicked his wand and the rolls of parchment came together in a graceful sweep and vanished. He tapped the board and several words appeared. Tom let his mind wander, he already knew all about this. He highly doubted even Dumbledore could teach him about a spell he'd been able to do for months.

There was a knock on the classroom door and Dumbledore paused. A terrified looking first year crept inside and handed Dumbledore a roll of parchment. She stared at his knees rather than look at any of the older students peering curiously at her.

"Immediately?" Dumbledore asked her kindly.

She jumped and then turned beet-red. She nodded, still looking at his robes. He thanked her and dismissed her. He apologized to them, set them their work and left the room after the rapidly disappearing girl.

Several people got to work, but mainly they all started to talk. Lestrange elbowed Avery with a wicked grin. Avery turned to the girl.

"I'm Ezra Avery." He addressed her in his most polite, oily tone.

She cast him one dismissive look and went back to her work. Tom felt like laughing, but that would ruin his carefully cultivated reputation. Avery's face was black with anger. The girl gave a slight wave of her wand and the owl sitting before her became a beautiful bird of paradise, multicoloured plumage flashing in the sun. Even the bird looked impressed at its new body. Tom was mildly impressed, birds were notoriously hard to transfigure because of all the tiny bones and muscles in their wings.

"Impressive." Tom murmured, his silky voice coiling around her ears and trailing down her spine.

She didn't flush with pleasure the way his last conquest had. In fact she didn't seem to have heard him at all. That rankled.

"I'm Lord Voldemort." He continued, injecting a little suggestibility into his voice.

Two Slytherin girls sitting at the table in front of them were very still and he knew they were listening avidly to every word. Finally, he got a response. It wasn't the one he'd expected.

"'Lord'?" She repeated derisively, giving him a thorough once-over.

No one had ever spoken to him in that tone, or even given him the look she had on her face now. Anger flared to life in the pit of his stomach. He swallowed it. He was very good at reading people, manipulating them was one of his best skills. But he couldn't get a grasp on how to deal with her. It intrigued him. He asked her name, not entirely sure she was going to give it.

"Sarah." She finally said. "No Lady, or Queen, or Princess. I'm afraid I don't have a title." Her voice was sweet and respectful but he knew she was mocking him.

He had invented entirely new hexes and jinxes to punish people who had looked at him with even a fraction of the amusement infusing her features right now. Sarah. What an ordinary name. He felt almost disappointed.

She waved her wand again and the brightly coloured bird became a flamingo. It peered down at her balefully from its new height. She reached out and stroked the bird's soft feathers. Tom glimpsed an ornate silver ring on her finger, a coat of arms was engraved into it. She was probably a Pureblood. His interest piqued a fraction. He didn't have time for such trivial things as romance, but he had been known to dally with girls when the mood took him. Dumbledore returned and no more was said.

Tom didn't speak to Sarah again for the rest of the week. Most of the boys took that to mean they could try their luck. They were wrong. Tom had not forgotten about her. He was planning. He watched her. She ate alone in the Great Hall, she sat alone in classes and in the Common Room. Many boys approached her all over the school but she gave no indication that she was interested in any of them. Tom got the impression that she was bored. Like him he felt she was anticipating greater things.

Even Avery and Lestrange had noticed his preoccupation with her. Try as he might he couldn't banish that golden mane of hers from his mind. The first thing he did was establish that she was indeed a Pureblood. He tapped Slughorn for that. She was in Slytherin which made Slughorn her head of house too. Slip him some of his favourite home treats and he couldn't tell you enough.

She'd lied. Her family were descendents from a pure line that led all the way back to a royal family from out East somewhere. Slughorn was already singing her praises. That annoyed Tom even more. Royalty. Albeit very distantly. No wonder she glided down the hallways as if she owned the place.

"I can see your interest." Slughorn had chortled, linking his fingers over his rotund belly and eyeing Tom with fatherly affection. "Very pretty girl. Beautiful. Such unusual eyes and that glorious hair." Slughorn guffawed fatly and smiled indulgently.

"Why don't you try that old classroom out there." Slughorn had hinted, apparently under the impression that he was being subtle. "Strictly against the rules of course, but such a pretty little thing, hard to refuse!"

Tom was loath to take instruction but his curiosity got the better of him. He opened several doors but didn't find what he was looking for until his patience had almost entirely expired. Sarah appeared to be dancing. She must have charmed the room because the gentle music only hit him when he pushed the door open. He had never seen anything like her. She was dressed in a clinging skin-tight black leotard which made her pearly skin paler than ever. Her hair was bound back in one long braid as she contorted her body. Tom knew the elegant, flowing movements were ballet. He'd severed as many ties as he could with the Muggle world, but he was transfixed.

He shook himself. Fawning over her like some lovesick schoolboy. He was disgusted with himself. When she turned to look at him, her blue eyes were coolly amused.

"Hello, Tom."

He didn't ask how she'd learnt his real name. He didn't need to. Everybody knew who he was. She finished her stretches and grabbed a nearby towel. He was momentarily distracted by the sheen glistening on her long throat and chest. He felt desire stirring someone deep and secret inside him.

"Did you want something?" Her voice purred, gentle and coaxing. "Did you want me?"

He felt his pulse quicken, his fingertips tingling, every sense sharpening. He took three long steps towards her. She didn't flinch, merely tilted back her head and met his dark gaze head on. There was no fear in her eyes, just curiosity and something like defiance. All of the girls he'd seduced and discarded had given him the exact same look at this point, terrified but excited. Eyes big and sparkling, lips slightly parted and cheeks flushed with desire.

He reached out one of his long slim hands, touching her slender throat experimentally. She didn't retreat but he felt her pulse flicker beneath his hand. He stroked her soft skin, brushing his thumb over her jawline. He suffered from men's desires and he had no problems satiating them, he had an endless line of willing girls for that, but he had never felt this all-consuming need to possess someone before. The frenzy he felt building in his chest he had only ever experienced when he achieved one of his many ambitions.

For the first time in his life he felt fear. He felt his control slipping away. He drew back. Sarah simply looked at him, her face impassive. She looked entirely unmoved, but he saw her hands trembling out of the corner of his eye.

"What are you?" He demanded fiercely, his usually smooth composed voice quivering with a raw undercurrent.

"Me?" Sarah looked surprised. Sadness briefly illuminated her eyes, then her Slytherin instinct raised the shutters. "Nobody. I'm nobody."

She turned away from him and waved her wand. The music stopped. As she pulled her robes on over her leotard, she glanced at him.

"Are you going on the trip?"

He cocked his head. Her voice was distinctly musical, her accent indecipherable except for being different.

"Hogsmeade?" He shrugged.

"You'll go with me?" It was half a question and half a command.

Tom's lips curved into a half-smile. Even Slytherin girls would never speak to him like that. Instead of the anger he'd expected to feel, he felt a curl of amusement. She seemed to take that as assent. As she passed by him to leave, she paused.

"You're a strange boy, Tom Riddle." She inclined her head slightly and studied him. "A mystery." A slow smile spread over her face. A thoroughly Slytherin smile. "A challenge."

Over the next few days Sarah and Tom played a dangerous game. They circled each other like snakes, until neither was sure who was the hunter and who was the prey anymore.

By the time the weekend of the Hogsmeade trip arrived, those who had noticed the two of them were on tenterhooks. Many of the Slytherin girls had turned their backs on Sarah, angry that she was receiving so much attention. Sarah didn't mind too much, all they ever talked about were boys anyway.

She woke early on the morning of the trip and she showered in the deserted bathroom. The weather was cooling down and she dressed warmly. A long black skirt and a fitted grey jacket with a warm fur collar. She pulled on her cloak and checked her hair, tilting her hat at a slightly better angle. She knew the danger Tom Riddle posed, she could feel it oozing from every pore whenever she saw him. It wrapped around her now at the mere thought of him, brushing against her.

He was in the Common Room, listening absently to his friends arguing. He had a bored expression on his face and his eyes were restless roving around the room. He was waiting for her to approach him. She waited just long enough for him to acknowledge her, and then walked straight out.

She followed the trail of students towards the town. She knew he was behind her, but he didn't catch her up. It was all part of the game. Neither wanted to give the other the upper hand. They both reached the cobbled streets at the same time.

"How quaint." She commented as he stood besides her, both of them surveying the town. "How truly awful."

He understood her strange words. He couldn't imagine anything worse than living in a small town in the middle of nowhere. Nothing. He watched a woman with a small child clinging to her hand dashing past with a shopping list in her hand. His lip curled. They walked in silence as Sarah took everything in. Students were darting in and out of the shops, calling to their friends and laughing.

"Where I grew up." She suddenly said. "There was nothing like this."

It sounded cryptic but Tom didn't ask. He waited, hoping she'd reveal more.

"Every place we lived, had a different kind of power to learn."

Now he was intrigued. She seemed to know that she had his attention, even though he never looked at her. Tom had studied magic in various forms, he considered himself well on his way to being an expert. She whispered words he'd never heard of, the musical lilt in her voice turning them into a dark song. He felt the power beginning to surge around them. It washed over him and caressed him. Admittedly it wasn't very strong power, but it was something he'd never felt before and it surged into him, through his nose and mouth. Saturating his entire body.

She fell silent. He saw something glinting in her eyes and the smile on her face was quietly satisfied. The feeling vanished as quickly as it had arrived. The lingering traces were warm. He felt a little shaky, the way he imagined you felt when you tried a drug.

"I learnt the African magics before I could count to ten." She told him casually, not bragging merely informing. "Not as advanced as the magic here. Not as technical. But powerful. Dangerous."

Her eyes gleamed. A pink flush spread over her high cheekbones.

"Show me." He ordered.

She lifted her eyebrows at him. She reached out, touching him delicately with one finger. She touched his cheekbone, the long bridge of his Greek nose, down over his lips. His eyes were burning fiercely.

"I'll show you what I know." She finally said, drawing her hand back and placing it back into the furry muffler she'd brought. "Not everything. There are some things a man must discover for himself."

The look she gave him was both knowing and innocent at the same time. She peered at him from under her long lashes, the curve of her lower lip inviting. His hands snatched out lightening quick and pulled her against him. She didn't resists but she didn't exactly participate either. She was daring him and he knew it.

He didn't take orders from anyone. He let go of her. He must get himself under control. She was getting too close, under his skin.

"Do you think letting someone die is the same as killing them?"

Thrown by the sudden change of topic, and the dark nature of her words, he wondered what exactly she'd heard about him. They'd reached the outskirts of Hogsmeade now. They came to a pause by a particularly large rock. He gave her his hand and she climbed up onto the rock. She stared out at the view.

"The last town we lived in, a man fell into the lake. He was old." She said dismissively. "We were passing in our carriage. We could have saved him. We wouldn't have even needed magic. Poor little Muggle."

There was nothing in her face to indicate that she felt sorry for the man. She shrugged and suddenly lay back, her hair spreading into a pool of gold around her head. Tom's face was half in shadow from this position. He was still looking at the view. A lock of his hair had tumbled over his forehead in the breeze. She reached up and pushed it back. He felt the warmth of her hand against his temple.

The girls he was used to wouldn't even speak to him without his permission. They only looked at him when they thought he didn't know. The look in Sarah's eye told him she knew she was playing with fire. She applied just enough pressure to the back of his neck and he leaned in towards her. Only one girl had ever initiated a kiss with him before and she'd been trembling so much that she'd bitten his lip.

Sarah's lips were soft and commanding beneath his. He was very uncomfortable. The rock was cold beneath him and his upper body was twisted at a strange angle. A Ravenclaw couple emerged from the trees to their left straightening their clothes. They stopped in their tracks when they saw them, then returned back the way they'd come.

The two of them slipped down off the rock in silence.

"Well?"

Tom ignored Rosier's leering face. They'd waited what they considered a decent amount of time before they'd accosted him, panting for the details of the trip. Avery looked up from his Charms homework. When he realised Tom wasn't going to answer, he carried on.

"Don't you have homework?" He snapped at the others, irritated that he still had so much left to do.

"Finished." Tom said coolly, his eyes never leaving the pages of the book Sarah had given him about her "African magics".

Of course you have Avery thought bitterly. He kept his gaze fixed firmly on his essay though, already feeling guilty for his thoughts. Tom had never told anyone about his Legilimens abilities, he'd started to work on the secretly as soon as he'd heard about it, but he had a feeling his companions knew something of his talents. Fools. They could never begin to understand the things he knew.

He jerked his head up. There was something. One of the burly seventh years from the Quidditch team was guffawing in a corner with his cronies. He was one of those particularly obnoxious specimens who projected his perverted thoughts without realising it. He was projecting wildly now, his excitement was at a fever pitch. Tom usually only bothered entering his classmates' minds when he was thoroughly bored and desperate for entertainment. Now he forced his way into the boy's mind with little finesse, or care, for the boy's mental health.

His memories were confused, his brain rebelling automatically against the unexpected intrusion. He found what he was looking for. The great oaf had apparently been the impression that the new girl was available and willing. He clamped his big meaty hands all over her delicate body, even getting so far as forcing his hand up her skirt before she'd thrown him off. He tried again and she'd drawn her wand, her violated lips throwing out the same sort of words Tom had heard in Hogsmeade. The boy had fallen to the ground, his hands clamped to his head and his screams soundless. She continued with the words until the boy couldn't even scream anymore. Even through the memory Tom could feel the dark energy pulsing around the two of them. She stowed her wand and lashed out, leaving three viciously deep welts down the side of his cheek.

Tom blinked and the vision cleared. The boy had fallen out of his chair and was surrounded by his teammates. They yanked him to his feet and he laughed it off. He had no idea what had just happened. His face was illuminated by the firelight and Tom could clearly see the badly healed scars on his cheek.

Tom was filled with a rage he couldn't control. White hot it lashed through him, needling his insides and scalding his throat. He found himself standing before the boy. He was on the floor, curled in a foetal position and shrieking. Tears streaked his face and a wet patch had appeared on his trousers.

"I'm sorry! I didn't know!" He screamed over and over again, his body contorting and twisting.

Tom realised that his wand was in his hand and he lowered it. The boy stopped his sickening coiling and lay there twitching. He barely had the strength to roll over and vomit onto the cold stones. He choked and went still. His friends were staring in horror, too afraid of Tom to come to his aid. The Common Room was empty besides the team and Tom's companions, all of whom were staring. A greedy look had infused Lestrange's face as he looked at the boy.

Tom whirled on his heel and marched out of the room without grabbing his cloak. At least they had the sense not to follow him. Tom felt bile rising in his own throat. Not for what he'd done, but for why he'd done it. So what if that great gorilla had attacked Sarah. What was that to him? He remembered nothing of the attack until he'd found himself standing by the fire. He'd lost control. He never lost control.

He was panting as if he'd run a marathon, although he'd only walked a few corridors from the dungeons, his chest was heaving and his brow was damp with sweat. He pushed his fringe back. His temple tingled where Sarah had touched it. Had she put a spell on him? He let out a harsh laugh that echoed off the stone walls. Never. He would have known. He felt again that strange power whirling inside of him.

He needed fresh air. He backtracked past the Common Room and the Great Hall, ignoring the passing ghost who warned him that curfew was close. In the old days he would have tortured a few first years, maybe a house elf or two, to relieve his anger. But he was more mature now, in control.

She'd conjured herself a swing that hung from one of the trees just inside the Forbidden Forest. She was swinging high, her bare legs kicking the air and her long hair swirling around her face. He marched right up to her. She ignored him.

"I cursed him." She called down to him as she swung past, the branch groaning in protest at the rapid movement of the swing. "The next time he attacks someone, he'll find himself unresponsive in the worst ways."

There was satisfaction in her voice but something else too, something burning below the surface. Tom had the feeling that she hadn't finished with that boy yet. She stopped kicking her legs long enough to slow down.

"Push me." She ordered him.

He stayed where he was for a while. Her hair was loose and wild, tumbling over her bare shoulders. She must be in her nightdress. The white material fluttered in the breeze. A rosy flush had spread over her exposed collarbone and creamy shoulders. He moved behind her, putting both hands on the intricately carved wooden swing and pushing. As she soared away from him, he spelt the citrus scent of her hair. Her mind was blocked to him. He edged around it experimentally but it was firmly closed. As she swung, she looked over her shoulder at him. She knew what he was doing.

"Why are you here, Tom?"

He hadn't quite learned to hate his name yet, and it sounded so different from her lips. He grabbed the swing and it jerked to a stop. She looked at him. Her face was bleached white in the moonlight, her lips dark and her eyes in shadow.

"Why are you here, Sarah?"

He so rarely used the names of his girls. Her name slipped off of his tongue and hung in the air between them. Something between them seemed to shift. He followed the shaft of moonlight down her throat, over the swell of her chest, down her smooth stomach under the silky material and over her exposed thigh. The nightdress had a split up her thigh, lined with lace.

She reached out and hooked one of her fingers into the waistband of his trousers. He'd forgotten his cloak. Hers lay discarded under the swing. She pulled him towards her. It was slightly awkward because of how tall he was. She pulled him closer. He felt her thighs on either side of him. Her hands were tangling in his hair at the nape of his neck. He dropped his hands from her shoulders, trailing them over her bare thighs with a feather-light touch. She shivered against him.

She was suddenly feverish, her nails scrabbling against the shoulders of his sweater. The swing rocked beneath them and he pulled out his wand. The swing vanished and she tumbled backwards onto her cloak. Her laughter rang out around them. He hesitated. He no longer knew who was in control here. His encounters with girls were brief, a means to an end.

She lay there and gazed up at him. That beautiful hair was spilling out against the black of her cloak. One of her legs was raised slightly and the moonlight illuminated every inch. In his entire life, Tom had rarely wanted anything more than he wanted her. And Tom always got what he wanted.

She'd taken the matter into her own hands anyway. She was kneeling, unbuckling his belt. She grabbed a handful of his jumper and jerked him towards her. He allowed himself to be pulled down, falling onto his knees. Her kisses were playful now, toying with him, certain of his desire.

She stripped away his sweater. It was cold. Tom cast a spell. A rush of warmth spread over them as if a fire had been started besides them. She didn't seem to notice, she was too busy struggling with his trousers. She managed to get them undone but he halted her. She looked up at him enquiringly, her eyes darkened with heat. He slowly peeled the strap of her nightdress down, pressing his lips against the bare skin. He ran his hands over her, caressing the line of her body through the silk.

They both knew that they'd be seen by anyone who decided to look out of the castle windows. She didn't seem to care. He had hold of his wand again. Girls usually shrank back when they saw him brandishing his wand, afraid that they were out of their depth. Her eyes flickered briefly to the thin strip of wood, then me this again. She wasn't afraid. He ran the tip down her throat. When the wandtip reached her nightgown it sizzled slightly and the material split in its wake.

Her nightdress fell open. She lay before him quite unashamed. Her body pearly in the moonlight. His eyes roved over her naked body hungrily. He wrapped a fist into her silken hair and buried his nose in it. It smelt of citrus, flowers and power. He felt one of her little hands slide into the opening of his trousers. He trembled but he remained where he was, luxuriating in the strands sifting through his fingers like water. She squeezed and it took every ounce of restraint he had not to make a sound.

She was murmuring seductively into his ear as she stroked him, words of power and darkness and ancient magics long forgotten. He was shaking with every breath and his hand was clutching her hair so tightly, he must have been hurting her. But she never breathed a word of complaint. On the contrary her voice was excited as she squeezed and caressed and stroked. He kissed her savagely, as if he was trying to devour her. She gave as good as she got, letting go of him and raking her nails down his back.

He finally let go of her hair and leaned over her. His face was demonic in the half-shadows. His eyes burned so brightly, she was sure there was a flash of red somewhere.

It was much later when they re-dressed. Sarah mended her nightdress and slipped it on. She headed for the castle first, her white dress shimmering brightly. He could smell and taste her all over him. He was thrumming. His mind was racing. He had attacked that boy, and by tomorrow everyone would know why. His carefully established reputation would crumble. She was a weakness. The school would think that he could be just as human as the rest of them.

He'd already formulated a plan by the time he'd mounted the front steps. He extricated his wand from his pocket. There had only been half a dozen witnesses. He'd extricate the real memory and implant a new one. His hand tightened on his wand. Not that brute. He'd remember exactly what had happened and why. It would serve as a warning.