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Voldermort leaned forward in the highbacked dining chair and looked closely at the captured witch before him. Her robes were dirty, and torn in places showing pale flesh marred by bruises and cuts, a trail of blood seeped down the side of her face from a cut on her forehead and her chestnut hair was dusted with ash.
"What is your name, Witch?" Her grey eyes blazed with anger, she looked defiantly up at the darkest wizard in the world and declared.
"I would rather die than have my name on your lips" Voldermort sneered and raised his wand "Then die, Avada Kedava" And so she died the look of defiance frozen on her pretty face.
"Who was she Lucius?" Voldermort asked while the body was removed from the half demolished room, Lucius brushed ash from his shoulders.
"Carla Rowanwood, My Lord" Those words enveloped Voldermort and returned him to the teenage body of Tom Riddle.
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"Tom, Tom" Her musical voice called to him from his far past, and he saw her running towards him from her tower common room as she did many years ago. He saw again her smile and heard again the affectionate way she'd called him Tom, the way she always laughed when she said she loved a Riddle. He recalled the way they'd sat together on the steps of Ravenclaw Tower and how her friends had teased them, in the good natured way friends make fun of friends. He felt her delicate hands stroke his pale cheek and her soft, ruby lips carressing his pale neck.
He remembered how his heart had thudded inside him when she was near and how it had pined when they were apart.
*****
"My Lord?" Asked Lucius "Are we ready to leave?"
He crushed those memories and threw them to the desolate winds of oblivion. Ghostly laughter followed The Dark Lord away from the ruin where past life and past love lay waiting to rot.
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Please R&R :)