Say it.

Hi people, it's the translation of my french oneshot ! Enjoy =)

Thanks to Iviscrit for Beta !

Insane. All of this was insanity, and yet... He could sense that strange thing he never had before, and never will after. That strange little thing, which gave him the sensation of a dagger sinking in the depths of his being, sometimes put him in a such indescribable state. Was that what people called feelings ? He couldn't stand it, couldn't stand it every time it happened, the weakness that seized him in each situation. For the most simple and the most human of reasons, according to him. It was weakness...No, he was not weak. He didn't feel. He was Tom Riddle, after all. But yet, some memories repeated themselves in his head, like a movie playing again and again, memories as delicate, as pleasing as a dream, leaving him bitter nevertheless. The simple thought of not having the control over what happened to him nearly drove him mad. He couldn't prevent her green eyes, her smile, her pale skin, her long legs from making unwanted appearances in his mind .

Anyone who knew Tom would have been shocked and unable to guess that he could actually feel these kinds of things. Even the what little he knew concerning feelings was radically different. This jealousy, for example. It was different from the one he had known as a child, the one that made him manipulate or steal from people. Different from the one which gave him the desire of to crush anyone who dared aspire to be more brilliant than him. No, this jealousy had no easy recourse, no way in which he could become the master strictly speaking.

He may have been more powerful, more strong than her, but she was the one who dominated the situation. He hated it. He didn't have the power. More than that, he seethed at the moron who paraded around with her. This insignificant, stupid boy who without a doubt had no idea of the real worth of the young woman he kissed and embraced...

The slightest physical contact that Tom witnessed gave him nausea and without wanting it, he let jealousy take control of his being. He allowed himself to close his eyes a moment, to seek refuge in his memory. He could still smell her perfume, could still feel the softness of her lips. He could still see her gaze, could still sense her determination and the power that emanated from her. He remembered the very rare privileged moments he had spent with her, moments which would be hard to forget. He wanted her, in every way he could want a young woman.

He will be a lord, and she could have been his queen. Lost in his thinking, he didn't realize that he was staring at her intensely. Minerva had approached and she was now alone with Tom, alone with him and his attraction, tension and other turbulent emotions that seemed to fill the empty classroom. She took a step towards him, her gaze unwavering.

_ Three words Tom. Three words, eight letters. Say it, and I'm yours.

He had never been able to say those three words, and never admitted that he wanted to. Never admitted that he almost said it, although unable to do so. He closed his heart to all emotion when he lost the only thing he had ever cared about, the only thing he ever loved, apart from power.

Thanks for reading ! Anyone caught the reference in Minerva' sentence ? ;)