Alrighty everyone! After a long absence, I've decided that I need to take things slowly. Slowly as in not pushing myself to do full-on stories which never seems to work. So why not do some short stories? And I figure, hey! I love me a good romance, so why not do some romance? Then I thought again, hey! I've been thinking of a certain Draco Malfoy for a while, but I also like messing with poor Tom Riddle's mind, so why not do a Harry Potter fanfic?
Tom Riddle, Draco Malfoy, Tom, Draco, Tom, Draco…. How about both? Hehe… this should be fun.
Draco: You're bloody insane.
Me: Your point?
Tom: I don't want you to write a story with me! You'll probably make me kiss a filthy Mudblood-
Draco: I second that notion!
Tom: AVADA KEDAVRA!
~silence~
Me: *chuckles condescendingly* Oh Tommy… you should know that you can't kill a writer! We rule the world!
Draco & Tom: Bugger.
Disclaimer: I do not own Tom Riddle or the voice which speaks the truth.
Tom's Story: Love's Riddle.
Tom Riddle stalked the halls of Hogwarts after dark, on Prefect duty. He loved hunting for students who thought they could out smart him. Him! Mostly daring younger years, trying to create memories. Trying to make friends.
But Tom knew there was no such thing. As friends, anyway. There was no such thing as friendship, or love, or any of those other useless, distracting things that idiot Dumbledore talked about. There was only cold power, the ability to manipulate, and the ability to instill fear of that power and manipulation until you were always in control. Control. That was the key. Not love.
Those two words kept echoing in his now-silent mind. Not love. Not love. He would never have love because it did not exist. There were boys he overheard all the time, claiming he and a sweetheart were going to get married and that they were in love. Fools, all of them. Acting as if they took regular doses of a certain very strong love potion. It did not exist.
Lust was a different thing. It was quite real, and he had determined to stay clear of it because of the obvious brain-washing effects. Lust was the real enemy. Not love. Just lust.
But there was that voice. That voice that had somehow penetrated his undeniable logic. A little taunting sing-song voice that always sounded like it knew more than he did. It made him feel something he had never felt that he could only describe as fear. He did not like that word, and he did not like accepting that maybe he felt it. So he tried to push that tantalizing voice away, but it always came back for him, saying the same thing.
You're over looking something, Tom. Tut tut. How do you expect to overcome something which you deny to see?
There is nothing too see! It is not real! A myth, a wishful story.
You know you're wrong. There's something to this love thing. You want to investigate it. You want to understand it. But you're too afraid…
"Shut UP, dammit! Dash it all, just shut the bloody Hell up!" He slammed his fist into the stone wall he'd been unconsciously walking by. Concentrating on the pain throbbing in his hand, he tried to forget, to ignore…
No matter how hard he tried however, his mind kept replaying that laugh. Her laugh. It was… capturing. It made him want to hear it more and more, but he didn't know how to get it. He didn't know how to make her laugh with him. After all, control was caused by instilling fear, and fear generally did not make people laugh.
She might though, he thought grimly. She might laugh at fear. It'd be her typical way of proving me wrong.
Sighing in defeat, he sank against the stone wall and closed his eyes, finally allowing himself to remember the previous night duty. He did not usually give in this quickly to his wants, but he was doing many strange things since that night. He had to ask the voice, he had to wonder… what if he had known what was going to happen during that seemingly-normal night duty? Would he still have done everything the same?
You know the answer, Tommy. You may love being in control, but you like being powerless too.
Tom ignored that last part, and delved into that still-fresh memory, hoping that it would satisfy him and he could go back to normal afterwards.
And as that hope crossed his mind, he got the distinct feeling that the little voice was laughing at him.
