AN:

Hey everyone! I know, there are so many stories in my head and they just need to get out; otherwise I'd just be crawling around in my bed, thinking of them for hours. I wanted to share, okay? Okay! Yes, I do have a Tom Riddle weakness at the moment, been having it for maybe two months now, and it's strong, soooo strong. *cough* (...)

What you need to know:

This is Tom Riddle we are talking about here. As you read, please don't expect some overly romantic lovebird. This is Tom. Riddle. And the way I interpret his character. HOWEVER. For all you TR lovers out there, I'm sure there will be one or the other moment where...did I say something?

Timeline: Starting with Tom's childhood somewhen before his time at Hogwarts; continuing on to his teenage years and on

Warnings: might or might not contain naughty things, maybe a bit of roughness, heartbreak, some drama, some I-HATE-YOU-PLEASE-DIE heart-cringing moments, cliffhangers and everything else you will dislike and (hopefully?) love to read.

I do not own anything of Harry Potter. Nothing at all. I know it's sad. I know. So leave me fanfiction. Now, have fun! And please review every once in a while, it's a writer's returned present : )

Chapter 1: Wool's Orphanage

It is hardly possible to build anything if frustration, bitterness and a mood of helplessness prevail - Lech Wałęsa

All of them. Tom thought to himself. One of these days he would be able to pay them back somehow. Billy Stubbs. Amy Benson. Eric Whalley. Dennis Bishop. And the others that thought a worm in Tom's jacket was incredibly funny. Funny. They did not know what his version of fun was. Sure, one or the other had received a taste of it in the past. It wasn't like they were completely clueless. They forgot, clearly so, what else would be the answer? Tom sat in front of the window, narrowing his focused eyes that followed the running figures down in the yard chasing after a ball. They will feel sorry.

CRASH.

Dennis fell down, Eric stumbled over him, ripping Amy along. Tom watched them rolling around in the dirt, a slight grin crept up his usually so blank face - only to contort into a frown the other second. Amy laughed. Why did she laugh? Eric and Dennis threw grass at her, pulling each one that tried to get up back to the ground. They thought it was funny.

Funny.

Tom's nostrils flared as he stacked some rocks upon another, growing bored of it all too easily. His eyes flickered towards the window again, he picked up a rock and smacked it down on the window sill.

CRASH.

The ball went flying straight against Eric's head; he tumbled to the ground, laying there motionlessly while the other kids scattered around him, shaking his shoulder. Eric did not get up.

There it was again, that tingling ant-marching of mischievous joy. It rose in Tom's body like a warm sunrise on an autumn-morning, slowly, steadily - incredibly good. So good.

Tom closed his eyes, hearing the exasperated yelps for help and the overly motherly voice of Mrs. Cole rushing into the yard.

So good.

None of the kids dared to look at Tom during dinner. The orphans sat around a dark brown wooden table in the middle of a way too small dining room. Its grey color never lit up enough hope to be exchanged for a better or more vivid reflection of Wool's orphanage's lifestyle - quite in fact, it was a true statement of everybody's mood, including that of Mrs. Cole, who, with an oddly thin mouth, poured in some soup for all of them. Tom sat to her very left where she could keep a close watch on him.

Billy, older than Tom by about a year or so, helped handing over the small portions. He started with Tom, who instantly pulled the bowl towards his chest, ignoring the groaning from the other kids and the commands to pass it on and that he'd be given his food last "just as he deserved". Tom leaned on his elbow, staring into the lifeless liquid in his bowl, no twitch of his facial features whatsoever. The complaints stopped when Mrs. Cole waved her hand down, signaling the other children to be quiet now. There was a minute of silence for everyone.

"Tom! Not now!" Frowned Amy.

"Put down your spoon! The minute is not over!" Groaned Dennis.

"He's eating already, Mrs. Cole!"

Mrs. Cole inhaled deeply, looking at Tom with a worn out expression.

"Tom. Please put down your spoon. Our thoughts turn to those who have nothing, you know how it is, it's not your first dinner here, is it?"

Tom shrugged, his head still resting on his elbow as he kept on circling the spoon around the bowl in motion that clearly signalled boredom. Billy, having had enough, rolled his eyes and sighed, ripping the spoon out of Tom's hand to put it back down onto the table with a loud thud. Silence. Tom leaned up from his elbow almost mechanically, his head slowly turned to Billy, staring intensively, but nothing was said - only the sound of Mrs. Cole clearing her throat was audible as she nodded at everyone with a forced smile.

"You can start eating now" she said.

With his arms resting behind his head, Tom stared up to the ceiling later that night. The bed was too small for his tall frame, one or the other bedspring poked uncomfortably into his back but he barely felt it as he thought about his teacher, Mrs. Gale, visiting Mrs. Cole again somewhen after tomorrow's lessons. She would have to confront Mrs. Cole with the fact that Tom Riddle did not do any of his homework assignments, shewould have to report that Tom is too quiet during the classes. She would make it sound like everything was Tom's fault, as if he could change feeling bored.

So bored.

Tom sat up, staring against the dark wall, then to the window. It must have been around one ó clock in the morning when he had gotten up and carefully sneaked across the dark corridor over to Billy's room. He opened the door, glaring at the sleeping figure in front of him. He had not forgotten.

What first? Giving Billy a nightmare? No, that one was an old shoe. Nightmares. Tom never understood why anyone would seriously be scared of a dream - but he did well to use this against others if necessary. During the past couple of days, he had to realize that it was necessary indeed, this time, however, he wanted to plan ahead, wanted something more lasting. Tom narrowed his eyes at Billy, his nostrils flared again. As the blond male turned around and slowly blinked his eyes open, he saw Tom sitting by the edge of his bed, causing him to instantly shoot up from his sleeping position, too groggy to form any comprehensible words, however. "Wha-"

"What was that during dinner." Asked Tom calmly, but the commanding way of his tone left Billy no other conclusion than to realize that this kid was dead serious on finding out.

"Wha- whaddaya doing in my room?" Billy grumbled sleepily. "It's...good lord, it's late, go to bed! Or I'll tell-"

"You won't tell anyone. A. Thing." Murmured Tom, his eyes narrowing yet again. "Are we clear on that?"

Billy rubbed his eyes. "What do you want? All I did was-"

"Opposing me" spoke Tom calmly while he got up to pace around. "And do you really think I would let you slip?"

"I really just want to sleep." Said Billy, frowning. He sat up and ruffled his hand through his hair while yawning and glancing at Riddle, whose eyes were still fixed on him. When a loud yelp reached Tom's ears, he thought it was the best moment to vanish. Why taking the risk?

He lay in his bed, inwardly counting the seconds.

"One...two...three" he thought to himself - and at the count of three, he turned around, his door opened and he could downright feel the ice cold stare of Mrs. Cole on his back. So helpless, Tom thought as he watched the wall. What did they think? That they could ever catch him in the act? After all those years, did they really? Silly.

So silly.

With a strong sigh, he heard the matron turning around, stepping away. She locked the door tonight.

As if that ever stopped him.

And the next morning was not any the better. Walking downstairs Tom said nothing once he opened the door without knocking. He slipped into the classroom. Nobody dared to say a word when they saw who it was.

"Tom!" Said Mr. Wornwall in surprise. "Even though the schooling takes place in this orphanage, you still manage to get here late?" He sighed and shook his head. Tom watched how his grey and white hair grew electrified when he spotted Tom, some beads of sweat formed on his dark skin. He dabbed them away with a white handkerchief that he kept on his black pants, then fixed his brown tie while clearing his throat. Tom smirked. Oh the impact he had on them.

"Very well, sit down, Tom. I- erm. I will, however, have to report this to Mrs. Cole. What are you doing at nights that you can't come here on time in the mornings?"

Tom said nothing. He turned around to Amy, who had leaned closer to Dennis to whisper something into his ear, but seeing Tom's unamused expression was enough to make her stop. The lesson proceeded in its old routine. Mathematics, so easy. English literature, so boring. History, so uninteresting.

So uninteresting.

Something had to happen. Something that could take away the dullness of the orphanage. Or the lessons, at least these incredibly pointless lessons. Tom leaned up from his elbow, his eyes focused on the blackboard - and suddenly a couple of students laughed at a particular scene ahead.

Mr. Wornwall had trouble grabbing a piece of chalk, it kept sliding only inches to the opposite direction of his reach. He frowned, fixing his glasses, trying it again. Yes of course. Tom smirked, but couldn't help shaking his head in disbelief. Of course Wornwall would try to explain it like that - must be his eyesight, his old eyes playing tricks on him, his old eyes giving him the wrong information, his old eyes. Idiotic. They wouldn't believe in the things he could do even when it was happening right under their very noses - and exactly that ignorance was Tom Riddle's protection.

And so time passed. Everything continued just like that. Tom knew how to gain control over one or the other kids whenever he wanted, whenever he pleased. He did not do his homework, refused to help cleaning up, declined playing in the yard. Tom saw no reason to change his eating habits either, he was just about to pull the plate of food closer to his chest this evening when a strange voice caught his attention and resulted in his plate being passed on.

"Auntie Elliie!" Squeaked a girl that Tom has never seen before, standing in the doorway close to the dining room. She was young, but older than him, maybe fifteen or sixteen, he guessed. She ran over to Mrs. Cole, letting a bag drop to the wooden panels. All the kids looked up from their plates, watching.

"Joelle!" Smiled Mrs. Cole and opened her arms, pulling the girl into a tight and warm embrace. "Oh my dear, I did not think you'd be here so soon, I thought I had to pick you up from the station tomorrow!"

"I wanted to surprise you!" Smiled Joelle, throwing some of her hair over her shoulder as they had a light conversation. Tom stared at her intensively. Joelle was what the older boys clearly thought to be beautiful judging by their dumb grinning and the nudging with their elbows, forming some curves above their chests to clearly indicate Joelle's upper body shape that seemed to please them. Bryan, a seventeen year old and the oldest around the orphanage, instantly got up from the table and took off Joelle's cloak.

"Oh, what a gentleman!" Smiled Joelle with a joyous giggle while Mrs. Cole offered her a place to sit, which was next to Tom - and to his additional dislike, Bryan sat down on the other side of him, too. How troublesome. How annoying.

So annoying.

So interesting. It was almost difficult to imagine that Mrs. Cole had family outside of Wool's orphanage, almost impossible to think.

Tom kept staring at Joelle curiously. The oldest girl in this part of the orphanage was Amy, who was only a few months older than Tom. There have barely been any Teenagers around Joelle's age, with Bryan and the few fourteen year old guys being the only exceptions. His eyes flickered to the latter, watching how he offered his plate to Joelle, who politely declined and waited for her aunt to hand her her own.

"Thanks auntie" said Joelle, but exhaled deeply. "The trip was exhausting, it's snowing outside."

"You should've let me pick you up, dear, look at you, pale as a ghosts, you must be freezing. Here, have some tea." Mrs. Cole then handed her niece the cup; Joelle wrapped her ice cold hands around the warm porcelain.

"Mrs. Cole, who is this?" Asked Eric then, a question that still remained unanswered for most. Didn't they pay attention?

"Well, everyone" started Mrs. Cole with the brightest of smiles Tom has ever seen on her face.

"This is Joelle Cole, my niece-"

"Why did we never get to see her before?" asked Billy.

"Because Joelle lived with my brother and his wife in another city, but they moved to London. As you can see, it was a surprising visit, I thought she would come here by tomorrow."

"Is she going to stay with us in the orphanage forever?" Asked Amy, smiling at Joelle - and Joelle tilted her head to the side with a pitiful expression, shaking her head.

"No, sweetheart, I'm not. But we live close to the orphanage now and that means that I will come here to help out every so often. After school, of course. And whenever I have time."

"Yay!" Squeaked Amy, but kept quiet when Tom glanced at her with a raised eyebrow. Why were they so happy about a strange girl?

"I could show you around." Said Bryan proudly. "I know this place by heart."

Yeah, Tom thought. What a nice place to show around, so special, oh yes, a hotel. Tom couldn't help but to inwardly roll his eyes. What was all the fussing about? Have they never seen a girl before? Maybe, yes, it made a slight difference that this was Mrs. Cole's niece. But what was so special about that? Tom did not understand when he started to eat like everyone else, for once.

He watched how Joelle sat straight up and moved her fork to her lips, glancing to Bryan, who crouched towards his plate and clearly thought his lips should rather go to his fork - the difference of elegance was almost laughable. Joelle blinked at Bryan.

"Not so much of a gentleman, is he?" Asked Tom in a nonchalant whisper without even looking up from his spot. Joelle glanced at him, a little surprised, because yes, that was exactly what she just thought. Bryan, totally oblivious to the fact that he was the subject of the conversation, merely continued chatting with the others.

"Dear, you will stay here for tonight, won't you? I don't want to let you go out there in the dark. Besides, your parents aren't even in London yet, are they?" Asked Mrs. Cole.

"No, they're not. Well I got the keys already, so it wouldn't be a problem to go to the house, really-"

"Not at all!" Frowned Mrs. Cole. "You're still too young, what if something will happen? - no. You shall stay here." She smiled and rubbed Joelle's shoulder. "We will find a place for you to sleep."

"She can stay in my room." Said Bryan with a smirk, but Mrs. Cole just sighed and shook her head. "Most certainly not, Bryan."

The truth is, Bryan ended up promising Mrs. Cole that he was a trustworthy individual and that he would sleep on the couch (he had saved enough money to get himself a small couch in his room) while Joelle could have the bed.

"Okay so, the kitchen..." Whispered Bryan somewhen later to Joelle as they walked along the dark corridor at night. "We sometimes sneak in for a midnight snack, but don't tell your aunt!" He snickered and Joelle couldn't help but snicker back. "Sounds like something I would do" she admitted.

"And this is my room. Number 38." He obviously pointed to a door, then sighed and paused. "And that's room 27. You wanna stay away from that."

"Why?" Asked Joelle. But Tom could not hear what else Bryan had to say about that as their voices vanished the other second.

Stay away from room 27. That was a good advice.

A good advice indeed.