Disclaimer: I do not own He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or any other characters you may eventually recognize in this fan fiction. I merely own the ideas that are spilling onto the page from my brain.
Summary: Lunetta Scoress is a very talented and pretty young witch. She has made her way through school with little drama, and less romance. Though she has great ties with a close friend, Lunetta wishes for something unattainable: the affections of a boy who shares a cold shoulder with the world. However, she finds she may have the power to melt the heart of this impossible boy. Or perhaps she is simply under a delusion that he has skillfully set up to gain a powerful ally that would be willing to do anything for him.
Rating may change as I go, for I am unaware just where the ideas in my head shall take this tale.
The Realm of Impossible Dreams?
He was an odd sort of boy. Anti-social couldn't even begin to describe him on most days. She wondered if he was just shy, but he didn't seem abashed to speak his mind in class, so she doubted it. People spoke to him reverently, like he was someone special. She wondered what was so great about him, what made everyone want to get close to him. He certainly didn't seem to care about anyone. One thing was certain: Tom Riddle did not know she even existed.
She had tried to get his attention in many ways over the years. She would flip her hair, or bat her eyelashes, the way girls often got attention. When that didn't work, she tried to tempt his intelligence by striking up conversations about interesting topics and strange occurrences. Yet, as hard as she tried, he would hardly ever look at her.
"Lunetta! Hey, do you have a copy of the Charm homework?"
Barnaby's question brought her out of her thoughts, and she looked up at her best friend with a puzzled expression on her face. Shaking her head, she looked down at the homework she had been neglecting during her reverie. "Uh, yes…I finished it earlier. It's in my bag right there. Have a go at it, if you'd like." She told him. He smiled at her, and went about copying her work. She looked at him for a moment, seeing for the first time that he had gotten a haircut over the holiday. He looked quite dashing, as his shorter hair made his bright blue eyes more prominent.
She had often wondered why she couldn't happily be part of a relationship with Barnaby. They got on quite well. In fact, they got on better than simply well. He liked her very much. He had told her so himself on numerous occasions. However, she had never shared his feelings the same way. Perhaps it was the nagging mystery of the Riddle boy. If she could just talk to him, just get to know him, maybe she'd find that the interest wasn't there. Then she could content herself with the person right in front of her.
Barnaby had begun to recount his Quidditch practice from earlier in the evening. She listened contentedly while he boasted how great Slytherin was sure to do in the upcoming match. Her mind only occasionally wandered to the dark-haired boy brooding in the corner of the common room with a couple of people chatting excitedly around him. Barnaby ignored the fact that her attention wavered; however, so she was spared from having to explain what had her so preoccupied as of late. When she yawned, he seemed to take that as a sign that she needed to get to bed. He gave her back her Charms essay, quickly hugged her, and told her to get some rest.
When she found herself in her room, rest seemed the furthest thing from her mind. It plagued her that after 6 years of schooling she had gotten no more attention from Riddle than a floor tile. It wasn't as though she were boring to look at. Her dark brown hair was streaked with pink, which complimented her very well, rather than making her look radical or girlish. Her eyes were a very pretty shade of grey-green, which many people had often admired. She was not dumb, as many of the girls in her year could be accused of being. She liked Quidditch, and was good at conversation. However, she could find no way to get the Riddle boy to notice her.
Her thoughts were many and troubled as she drifted off to sleep.
They sat on opposite ends of the common room. It was strange to her, and obviously a dream. He would never stare at her this way if this were not a dream. She felt cold under his unceasing stare, naked. She looked about, seeing that they were absolutely alone. It felt wrong to be dreaming of him, almost frightening. For a moment, she thought she heard him whisper her name. It sounded strange on his tongue, but she reasoned it was probably because she had never heard him address her before.
"Lunetta," This time she could not mistake her name, spoken in his crisp and authoritative voice. "You have wanted to speak to me. I have seen you stare at me, wishing I would look upon you as other boys look upon girls that they fancy." He said this as cold fact, and she felt her cheeks turn red with embarrassment. Perhaps this was her conscience telling her to be less obvious, before she really embarrassed herself.
He stood and paced the room, though he did not look at her anymore. Her breathing slowed as she mentally begged for his eyes to lock with hers once more. Even in a dream, he was mysterious and intriguing. She wanted to ask him things, but thought it silly to speak to her own dreamed up version of him. He did seem so real, though. With each step of his pace, she could almost imagine the gears turning thoughts in his head.
"You are very special, Lunetta. No one has ever felt an inkling of true affection for me, however unknowingly. Many search me out for the power they perceive, or the glory. Others fear me, for they think they know what I am capable of. None, however, have looked upon me with the same affection you do. I must admit, I do not understand you." He seemed to be musing aloud, rather than actually speaking to her.
"This is preposterous. Why am I dreaming something like this? You have plenty of people who care about you. You must have parents who love you. I'm sure this is just rubbish." She said, trying to push this dream from her mind. She couldn't believe the things her mind would dream up, when she was desperate to find out his mystery.
"Well, perhaps you are not dreaming, my pet. Perhaps this is more than a dream." His voice was soft, persuasive. He looked at her, his face set with curious determination. He stepped towards her, and took her hand in his. He felt ice cold to the touch, not at all how she'd imagined he would feel. "As I said, I am intrigued by you. You are different…something I am not used to. Perhaps we shall be meeting each other more often." He told her, growing very close to her face. She could hardly make out his features, he was so close. She thought for a moment that she was going to receive a very pleasant dream kiss, but instead he whispered to her, his breath as cold as his hand.
"Let us see what the moonlight has in store for us…"
She woke with a start. A light sheen of sweat had formed on her brow, but her hand still felt quite cold.
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Author's Note: Hello! It's been a while since I wrote a fanfic, and I would be happy to have some feedback! It would be wonderful to know I've still got some readers out there. On that note, I'm hoping to keep up with this one, though we all know that inspiration is quite the uncertain temptress.