I would just like to start out by saying that this is my first TrHg fic. So, I would love your criticism and complaints more than anything. Oh, and before I forget, the title is the name of a wonderful song by the Silversun Pickups. I did not create it. I was vastly inspired by Ninjettex's Well Roared, Lion (if you haven't read it, I highly suggest that you do so...Right now.) and by The-Dark-Side-Of-Eden's Isira's Curse (Read it.).

Disclaimer: Although I wish it was, Harry Potter is not mine.

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Prologue

The hag shuffled around the wide classroom, her red cloak trailed out after her. To the dark haired seventh year, this was a completely pointless and worthless lesson. The hag walked around the room again, from his vantage point at the far back of the classroom he could see her decrepit face slip into a scowl. Her sisters came to her side whispering in ragged tones.

Who needs to know who their going to marry with anyway? He thought disdainfully. It was girls' fantasies and boys' boredom. This was a monumental misuse of time to the Head Boy. His dark eyes were glaring at the hags as they came near his little perch. Timon Malfoy snickered from beside him.

"Good waste of a lesson, eh Riddle?" The blond was as smart as a fork in a locked room. With the lights off. Tom Riddle didn't respond. The hags in crimson cloaks were making their hunched way toward him. Gruesome smiles ate at their faces, teeth rotting or missing in each one. The one that had been circling the room pointed a bony finger at him.

He took in a sharp breath through his teeth. This wasn't right. He wasn't supposed to end up with anyone. He didn't need anyone besides himself. He was Lord Voldemort, he was going to be ruler of the world one day. He was going to have all the people of the world under his hand, and he wasn't going to share that with anybody.

Especially not some spoiled pureblood broad, like the ones that followed him during school hours. The large group of students that had tailed the Foretelling Ones, parted and made a circle that encased Tom and them. They came within ten feet of him and stopped. Their wretched faces were worse up close.

The Head Boy crossed his arms over his broad chest. He had read about the elaborate charade they put on for this. The Foretelling Ones were like the Fates of Greek myth. They foretold the future, hence the name, but only parts. It varies from hag to hag. They have their sections and different colors for each. As it was, crimson stood for love. They would go to a place and pick out the future they saw most clearly, and show that person who they were destined for.

Apparently it was Tom's turn.

The girls in the class held their breath and hoped wildly it would be them hanging off the devilishly handsome Head Boys' arm. His Death Eaters waited in suspended silence. This wasn't going to be a simple wife to them, this was going to be their Dark Lady.

"She will be the most powerful witch the world has ever seen," one of them rasped and Tom took another sharp breath. "She will be magnificent. An exact opposite to you, yes, but similar in so many ways." A misty picture was beginning to form between them, while the students watched on with awe. It was the form of a person. A very short person.

Its' outline went to his chin and was very slight. The form became more solid around the edges, he could make out soft curves and long ebony curls, their color seeping into the mist. The misty form slowly changed a into person.

She was petite and beautiful, in that china doll sort of way. She had bright caramel eyes and soft pale skin. Her silky curls fell down her back in soft, thick ringlets. Her face was delicate and fierce at the same time, the features were small but were hardened into way that made it look like she was ready for battle. Her full rosy lips were puckered in a little rose bud shape.

Tom looked down, and furrowed his brows. She was wearing something that was far too revealing in his opinion. In all fairness they had been torn and mangled so, it probably hadn't been her fault. What once had been pants were ripped to shreds up until her mid thigh, exposing her creamy skin to everyone in the room. Her shirt was in better repair, to Tom's luck, and only had one long slice running along her stomach.

He looked over her again, dismissing her ragged clothing.

"What happened to her?" Oberon Black breathed. People all around gasped loudly as they registered the blood flowing from her side and the splatter across her cheek. Professor Pinel made his way through the crowd, he was a short pudgy man with bugging little eyes and multiple chins. The Divination professor clapped his thick hands together.

"Well, this has been fun! I sure hope we see that girl soon," He winked at Tom. "Right Mr. Riddle?"

He would have to Obliviate them all.

And that's exactly what him and his Death Eaters did. No one would know about the mysterious girl with the battle wounds. No one, but him and his inner circle. After they had picked off everybody in the class, including Professor Pinel, they headed for the Slytherin common room. Even when the hags had left, it was like they were whispering in Tom's ear. They repeated the first thing they had said to him.

"She will be the most powerful witch the world has ever seen," It was odd, her eyes seemed familiar. He was sure he had seen them before, but certainly not on one of the students. And he knew she was important, not just from what the Foretelling Ones had said, but by the way her eyes held so much knowledge and how she stood straight and tall--figuratively, of course--through the pain she was probably experiencing.

It was one of the faults the Foretelling Ones had, they could show you the person, but only how they looked at the time they showed it. The handsome Head Boy wondered what exactly she was doing, clothes mangled and side sliced open, and where she was. He felt a strange urge to find her, to see who she was and what secrets lay behind those mesmerizing eyes. This, of course, prompted him to summon all of inner circle to his room for a meeting.

They gathered around him in a half circle. Oberon and Timon were there, along with Cicero Nott and William Avery. They waited silently for what Tom had to say.

"I got some interesting news today," he began. "I'm in the need to find a girl." Timon and Oberon exchanged glances while Cicero and William waited for more information. "I only have her physical description, but that should be enough," his face turned cold and lips quirked up in a faint sneer. "I want her found and expect every resource to be expended and every piece of information you find come straight to me. If you so much as whisper this to anyone outside of these walls, you will be dealt with. Am I understood?" A murmur of Yes, my Lords drifted across the room.

When they left, Tom sat in one of his plush armchairs. A pressure was building in his chest, a need to find the girl he had had a glimpse of. His eyes craved to look into those swirling golden depths he had gazed at.

Is her skin as soft as it looks? he mused that it would probably feel like a new born babies skin or like satin.

He wouldn't have to wonder for too long.