Disclaimer : All characters belong to J. K. Rowling.

Evasive Memories

Every student at Hogwarts admired Tom Riddle. Some even envied him. Only two months had passed since he started his first year at Hogwarts, but Tom was already a favourite among the staff. Handsome, smart and extremely talented, almost all the teachers took a liking to him at once. All but one.

Tom couldn't understand why Albus Dumbledore seemed indifferent towards him. What infuriated him even more was the fact that it bothered him. Tom Riddle had never cared about what others thought of him. He had always thought of himself as a unique and distant person, someone who would never let anyone fully understand him. So why did Dumbledore's attitude towards him bother him so much? Why was he so desperate to be recognised by Dumbledore? Why did he keep stealing glances at the Professor during meals? But most important of all, what was that strange feeling he felt whenever he saw Dumbledore having a good time with the other students, joking and laughing together?

Tom put his quill down and stared at his Charms essay. He couldn't concentrate. There were too many questions about Dumbledore that he couldn't answer. Ignoring the essay, he got up and paced about the common room, deep in thought. After ten minutes of pacing, he made up his mind. He had to get some answers, and who better to go to than the man himself?

- - - - -

Albus Dumbledore was in his office, staring at his desk, deep in thought. The other teachers seemed to have taken a liking to Tom Riddle. They were quite sure that he had a very promising future, what with such amazing talents at such a young age. Dumbledore, however, thought otherwise. He had heard quite a number of disturbing stories about the boy at the orphanage and he knew there was something strange about the boy. He just didn't know what.

There was a knock on the door.

"Enter," said Dumbledore, a little surprised by this unwelcomed visitor. Who could possibly need to see him in the middle of the night when everyone was already asleep? He was even more surprised when the unwelcomed visitor appeared to be the very subject he had been pondering about.

"Tom! Why, I must admit I'm a little surprised. What's the matter? Are you ill?"

"I'm fine, sir. I'm sorry to call on you at this time of the night, but-" Tom broke off. He realised that it had been very foolish of him to visit the Professor in the middle of the night when he could have just waited till the next morning.

"Tom? Is something troubling you?" asked Dumbledore kindly. "If there is anything you want to tell me, anything at all, please don't hesitate to do so. I am more than willing to listen."

"Professor Dumbledore, I have a question."

"Yes, what is it?" Dumbledore leaned forward a little, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Tom hesitated. He didn't know how best to phrase his question. He didn't want to sound too foolish or childlike. However, days of pondering had not produced any results, and now he finally had the chance to get rid of that extra burden in the back of his head. The question burst out before he could stop himself.

"Do you not like me?"

The moment those words escaped his mouth, he blushed furiously. He had not meant to sound like a desperate six year old.

Dumbledore, however, was taken aback. He had not been expecting this. Of all the questions the eleven year old was capable of asking, this particular one had not been on his list.

"Tom..?"

Tom did not look up. Dumbledore was dumbfounded. This was the first time Tom Riddle was showing a sign of weakness in front of another fellow human being. What could possibly have made the boy so fragile in just a few minutes of him entering the room?

"Tom, look at me," said Dumbledore gently. Slowly, Tom raised his head. The moment their eyes met, they both knew what Tom was feeling, for Tom had never felt such anguish in his entire life, and Dumbledore saw it clearly in the boy's eyes. Loneliness.

Dumbledore felt his heart break. How could he have had such unforgivable doubts about the boy? He was only a child, and young wizards were bound to misuse their magic when left unsupervised. At that moment, he was convinced that Tom Riddle was indeed different from the other students. He was a lonely orphan longing to be recognised.

Tom merely stared at Dumbledore. There was an unfamiliar prickling sensation in the corners of his eyes, but he ignored it. The next thing he knew, Dumbledore was by his side, encircling his thin arms around Tom, hugging him tightly. Tom was shocked. He had never been hugged before. He had always thought that it was a foolish act, one without meaning. Now, however, he understood how it felt like to be in the arms of someone else. It was a warm, pleasant feeling, and without warning, tears rolled down his cheeks. Tom had never been more bewildered. He had seen some of the younger children at the orphanage shed tears when they fell down and hurt themselves, or when they were being reprimanded, but he had never experienced it. As he was not feeling pain -not physically anyway- and was far from being reprimanded, he couldn't understand why the tears just kept flowing. He merely stood there savouring the hug, as he cried for the first time in his life.

- - - - -

"My Lord?"

Lord Voldemort opened his eyes and stared at Snape.

"My Lord, is something the matter?" asked Snape.

"No, nothing at all. I was just... reminiscing." Voldemort turned away and gazed at his reflection in the mirror. "I have a job for Lucius's son."

THE END