Ever.After
Summary- Sometimes, I wonder if it's even worth it. And then I jolt back to reality, and curse myself for even hoping. I'm nothing in this world, a nameless, worthless orphan. But the doubts still linger…OCXTR
Pairing: Tom Riddle X OC
Rating: M
Started/Updated/Posted: 9th November 2010/ 3rd December 2010
Warnings: Violence, dark(ness), coarse language, disregards epilogue (not much changed though) and sexual references/scenes.
Comments: Hello faithful Harry Potter fan fiction readers! I am here with a HP fanfiction (my first!), and as for the readers for my other fanfiction, well, I'm currently in the process of 'remodelling' it, so no fear! Er...surprise? Just remember, it'll probably start off slowly. I don't own Ke$ha's (and SNSD'S!) 'Run Devil Run' lyrics. Kudos to them.
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~ONE: RUN DEVIL RUN~
Theme Song- Run Devil Run by SNSD
"This may seem clichéd, Ms. Graves, but do you believe in magic?"
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'Do not judge a book by its cover', is what most people say. However, not many practice what they preach.
Take, for instance, the staff and students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in general. When they look at Tom Marvolo Riddle, they see an intelligent, honest, incredibly attractive, hardworking Prefect who excels in everything he does.
But what they don't know is that his charming exterior hides the mind of a cold and intelligent megalomaniac, mind set on vengeance against his Muggle father, Tom Riddle Snr., whom he felt had wronged him deeply. Not even Dumbledore, who had seen Tom's potential for evil, could foresee just how far his student would spiral into darkness.
That inability to foresee the inevitable caused the birth of the Dark Lord, who would almost succeed in taking over all of Europe.
Taking over the world.
Now, we take you back to where it all began:
The changing of fate itself,
and
the start of a new era.
It all began with a Muggle orphan and time-travel, resulting in the capture of Tom Marvolo Riddle's heart and the subsequent changing of the future in its whole entirety.
The Wizarding world better prepare.
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'Run devil devil run run,'
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'You better run, run run.'
The voice taunted her, gleefully whispering threats and possibilities of what would happen when he caught her.
Her body was on high alert, muscles tensing and coiling when she sensed something- probably a rat- scurrying away from where her feet were pounding against the concrete. Her heart was hammering away in her chest, and her throat burned like something nasty.
The voice taunted her again, and she told it to do something anatomically, physically impossible. She could feel the fear on her tongue, a metallic tangy taste; she never knew fear had a taste.
She stopped running, feet slipping slightly on the wet ground, to regain her breath and to rest and recuperate for a while. Surely, he wasn't that fast of a runner, was he?
Mistake number one.
Her body responded positively to its lack of movement and slumped against the brick wall. Her wand was digging into her back through the thin fabric of her night dress, but she would too tired to even think about taking it out.
She was not bothered enough to consider taking it out and arming herself, just in case of an ambush.
Mistake number two.
-two for two and misfortune comes in threes-
She gave a loud sigh, the sound echoing around the dark, damp alleyway and drew her knees up to her chest. She was freezing, tired and wary of attack. Not a good combination. She blinked. Once, twice.
Why was it getting harder for her to resist the soft lull of sleep, the comfort of safety and warmth?
She closed her eyes, and rested her head against the wall just for a moment.
Mistake number three.
'You better run, run, run, run, run,'
The moment her eyes snapped shut she was yanked harshly to her feet, and a hand stifled her cry of alarm. 'Damn it! I let my guard down just for a moment and-'
"We wouldn't want the locals to notice, would we?" A sly, sensuous voice mocked her. Now come along quietly, so we can have a little chat." She snorted at his words -as if he had anything in mind bud a nice, friendly 'chat'-and let out a small yip! of surprise when he lightly bit her ear.
Pleasurable tingles raced through her body.
"No, no, no, NO!" Her shouts were muffled by his hand, and then she got an idea. Slowly easing herself off the wall and further into Riddle's grasp, she let her hand slowly make an upward descent to the strap of her nightdress, whence she could reach little bit further to her wand...
He yanked her arms down and across her body. "Shit!" She cursed audibly, mouth now free of his hand, where they now rested on her arms, still twisted around her body.
He smirked darkly, daring her to try again, just o he could have the pleasure of seeing pure and utter terror displayed on her face.
Avada Kedavra green eyes glinted maliciously, and with the superior set of his mouth, he leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "You didn't really think that you could escape me, did you?"
She flinched, and then grimaced when she saw that it was the response he desired. He ran a hand through his jet black tresses; distilling their neatness and making him look absolutely, positively yummy.
He smirked again- 'he seems to a lot of that doesn't he?'- as he watched the way she admired his movements. Inavertedly, she found herself licking her lips.
'Oh God! Did I just-'
"Yes, you did." He finished her thoughts, almost as if he could read them. But wait, he could!
That meant he was not ignorant to the approving glances she cast his way every once in a while, when she felt her sense of duty wavered.
'Relax your mind, let go of your thoughts, focus on building an iron wall in your mind, an impenetrable fortress that the Dark Lord cannot pass through. Strengthen it, layer upon layer, and finish it off with a strong mental push."
She remembered the lessons that Snape had been advised to teach her in Occlumency, which came very much in handy now. Snape was an asshole, albeit a smart and driven asshole. She could not believe that he had actually married Hermione Granger, contrary to what J.K Rowling wrote in the epilogue of The Deathly Hallows.
Maybe she guessed Hermione and Ron looked better in ink and on screen than Snape and Hermione.
When she mentioned that tidbit to Snape he had sneered, and flounced away dramatically, robes billowing around him and making him look like a deranged bat. Hermione had choked on her pumpkin juice when she had described that scene to her.
Love, apparently even requited love, hadn't changed Snape's asshole-ery at all.
Not one bit.
It turned out that the Wizarding World wasn't as pleasant and peaceful after war, even after Voldemort had been laid to rest – 'Don't utter his name!', they hiss to her madly, 'Tis a curse!'- and still most of the Death Eaters would never be able to escape the taint of being associated with him.
Now that her mind defences were secure, and she could tell this by the subtle poking and prodding from Riddle's mind, she gathered up enough courage to step forward...and lay a big one right there on Tom.
His eyes widened in shock, the whites of his brilliant green eyes exposed, but he reacted accordingly and kissed back. In fact, he was a very good kisser.
This 'technique' totally threw him off guard, and was a shock-value technique that Ginny, not surprisingly, had taught her to employ just in case she encountered a sticky situation like the one that she was currently in right now.
After all, even sixteen year-old future Dark Lords had hormones, and she intended to use that to her full advantage.
He ran his hands all over her, and she marvelled at the way he could elicit such a strong response from her. Most of the boys back home –in her time- had none-too-nicely called her a frigid bitch because she had rejected their advances.
How they'd choke on their spit if they saw her right now!
Moaning loudly into his hair as he caressed a particularly sensitive spot on her neck with his tongue –when did it get from her mouth to there so fast? - she thought of her options and despaired.
Not many of them would her leave her particularly well and whole. There was a very good chance that she'd go mad before Riddle finished executing his very own brand of torture. He was a very 'hands-on' type of guy and preferred to work with unfortunate victims on his own, with zero help from his lackeys.
His personal favourite, of course, happened to be her.
When he found out that she was not that responsive to a good ol' Crucio, he sought other methods, and this method was his favourite because he got to get touchy-feely. In other words, he liked being in power and dominating her was like, an ultimate act of power for him.
He could utterly annihilate her mental defences with a single glance, leaving her jelly-kneed (did he hit her with a Jelly-Legs jinx?) and quite aroused.
Well, considering this type of 'torture' was semi-enjoyable for her.
She should at least try to make an attempt to play at his game.
It takes two to tango You must fight fire with fire, tame the beast-
A very sensitive area was chanced upon.
"Oh God."
"No, not God my dear. Just Tom Riddle."
Insufferable prat.
He sure knew how to push her buttons. Buttons on her chest, that is.
Why that –hotdelicouslyscrumptious- asshole was groping her! Apparently, Tom Riddle was very experienced in the art of upper-body fondling. Shock horror if the Head Boy was found engaging in such scandalous activities!
To Riddle was well-versed in the art of seduction, and used every bit of that knowledge to make her moan, whimper, beg and groan for release. He skilfully manoeuvred his fingers to where no man- or boy- had ever gone before. A torrent of passion swept her off her feet and into Tom's chest.
She was weak-kneed and quite sure that the position of 'time-travelling orphan' did not involve getting molested by a future Dark Lord. Nor did it offer dental or hazard pay. What a crappy deal on her part.
Sure, the 'good guys' were just content to sit back and let her do the work, after all, who would miss some nameless, faceless Muggle plucked from obscurity for her ability to 'blend in'?
Who would mourn her loss? Maybe, some of the kids at the orphanage whom she used to visit on Sundays to give out candy, but that just are the sugar high for them.
Not everything was cut and dry; apparently the Dark Lord once had the ability to love, way before he was Voldemort, but back then there had simply been no-one to offer a challenge for him, no puzzles to solve.
The entire staff and students at Hogwarts were wrapped around his finger, (and in her case literally), sans Albus Dumbledore. That man had been helpful for sure, arranging it so she could excel right through her classes without arousing suspicion from the general public.
A sharp pain in her neck brought her back to reality; Tom had bitten her in an effort to garner her attention!
He looked somewhat irritated and impatient, but his face quickly smoothed over once he caught her assessing his features. He smirked, causing her heart to stutter, and raised a slim finger to her lips.
"Not a word to anyone." His warning was clear, but as to what?
Why was he threatening her?
His eyes glinted again, and she felt her heart contract, this time in fear. What was Tom Riddle playing at?
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'I wish I knew right from the start,
That I was dancing with the dark.'
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I woke in a sweaty, incoherent mess.
I couldn't remember much of my dream, but I remembered a perverse sense of fear, brilliant green eyes that belonged to a gorgeous face with soft lips that traced over my neck and a blinding pleasure that flirted with pain.
The emerald eyes flashed in my head again, swimming in front of my eyes and I skilled my head. The sudden burst of pain when I recalled those eyes...
'Not a word to anyone.'
Those words flashed through my head unbidden, along with the now-familiar sting of pain. I groaned as that spike of pain forced me wide awake, and I told myself to bugger it all and make myself and start on breakfast when I glimpsed the ancient hands of my alarm clock. I need a digital one, seriously. Get with the times.
The big hand at five, and the little one at seven.
Ah hell.
I groaned again, what a time to wake up. Oh well, time for my morning shower. Cold water, here I come, due my apartment's crappy water heating system. It took half an hour for the water to warm up, and seeing as I didn't have enough money most days to pay the blasted water bill, hot water was a luxury I could not afford.
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'Aaah.'
This is the life. Relaxing with a nice, hot cup of tea after an invigorating shower.
Not.
The bathroom was grimier than usual, the kettle was stuffing up and my couch was ready to spear my poor arse with the many springs poking out of it. I was in a foul mood from my cold shower and my clothes were not doing much to keep out the cold, British air.
As you can see, I'm not a morning person. I'm not really a people-person in general. I'm a book person. Like Hermione, but much less pedantic.
Miracle of all miracles that I'd somehow managed to scrimp together enough money to buy the whole Harry Potter series by J.K Rowling. I'd picked it up in the library once, and was enthralled ever since. And suddenly, borrowing it wasn't enough; I just had to own it; like a voice whispering in my ear, urging me, to buy it, buy it, own it. Andthat's what second hand bookstores are for.
The world of magic was extraordinary, limitless and sometimes a little believable. There was no way a-a human could have written this. There was too much detail, too much intrigue. Too much magic. And an incredible amount of symbolism and Ancient Latin.
But the most enthralling character of all happened to be Tom Marvolo Riddle, in my opinion. The movies, in particular the Half-Blood Prince, had not done Tom justice. He just wasn't hot enough. I can't imagine all of Hogwarts wrapped around the finger of that.
Well, at least the Tom Riddle played by Christian Coulson looked believable enough; with that whole dark-eyed, dark-haired thing going on. Now that, my dears, is divine.
A startling 'crack!' from down the street pulled me out of my reverie.
You see, my apartment building was situated in the shadier suburbs of London, so strange noises were a part of daily life. Hear nothing, see nothing. That was the motto. Either that, or get mysteriously abducted and found dead some weeks later.
Cooling tea now forgotten while rambling on about strange noises, I gathered up enough courage to look outside my window to the street below. Stuff the motto; if it involved me, I was out.
Seeing nothing out of the ordinary in the foggy streets below, I went back to my musings and poured the now stone-cold tea down the drain; no sense in wasting good water.
I sighed and looked down at the clothes I was wearing and grimaced. Better change out of my sleeping gear and into some respectable clothing. Sweatpants and a T-shirt would do well.
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It only seemed liked a few minutes afterwards, but in reality hours, that I received that life-changing knock on the door of my flat. I don't mean life changing as in 'moving houses' changes, but life-shattering, belief-destroying changes. You know, just normal, everyday stuff in the life of Alice Graves.
I got up from my stiff position, formerly curled up in the armchair, and answered the door to a slight, green-eyed and tousled black haired individual in a black cloak with the insignia of a golden phoenix embroided on the left of his chest.
He looked slightly nervous, like the kind of nervous you get when you're expected to tell someone bad news. Uh-oh. Not a very good sign. I was expecting it to be some harmless prank or the newest marketing product, but I certainly did not expect the words that came out of his mouth, the first words he spoke to me.
"This may seem clichéd, Ms. Graves, but do you believe in magic?"
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After freaking out quite badly, which I can shamefully admit to doing, I demanded to ask for proof.
After all, what would you have done in my situation?
Thankfully, when he took out his wand- (eleven inches! Holly and phoenix feather! The twin wand to Voldemort's!)- he only needed to Summon a book from across the apartment, which, coincidentally, happened to be Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. He raised an eyebrow.
So no burning cupboards or turning-people-into-pigs today.
Thank god.
Curses, now I've got just a teensy-weensy crush on him. Agh! Married to Ginny, remember?
He sat me down -(on the battered, arse-spring-poking couch)-, talked to me calmly and Conjured up some extra-strong, extra-sweet tea, just the way I liked it (was he a Legilimens?) He explained that yes, he really was the Harry Potter, apologized for the shock and told me that I had a chance to save the Wizarding World.
Oo-er.
Apparently some sort of curse set up by Voldemort as a fail-safe in the minor chance that Harry and Dumbledore would find and defeat all his Horcruxes, and kill him. Sort of a 'locate and destroy' curse bound to blood and soul. Literally.
So it meant that even after the scaly bastard was dead, he legacy would live on; several Muggleborns and 'blood-traitors' had already succumbed to the curse.
Voldie, you evil mofo.
Molly Weasley was one of the few that died. The rest were put under a stasis spell and monitored for fluctuations in the curse and Severus Snape- (yes, the slimy git is still alive)- Madam Pomfrey and other amazing Healers and Potion Masters (like Slughorn) set out on finding a cure.
It was truly sad, and I offered my condolences to the man.
But then he just had to go ruin the moment by telling me to get a move on and pack up my belongings. Just like that. Am I supposed to leave my WHOLE LIFE behind?
What about school? And my apartment? And-er, life in general? Okay, I concede. Man has a point. I really do have nothing going for me here.
And then I had a massive brainwave.
What if this, somehow, is related to my uber-freaky dream that I can't really remember? You know, the one about freaky green eyes?
I knew, instantly, that life would never be the same for me again; because even a normal one is too much to ask for.
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'You better run, run, run, run, run,
and that's the only I'm gonna say.'
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"Fate spoke cruelly of her, and cackled up in its domain.
She had a long, perilous journey ahead, not only for her but also for Tom Riddle.
Their paths were intertwined; none could survive without the other.
It was decided, and with a grim smile, Fate cut the strings that bound them together.
The stage was set, their lines were written. Now all it took was for it all to play out.
Unless blasted Time interfered again.
But after all,
Kronos waited for no-one...
No-one but himself."
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'All was well? I mean, not really. You should see what happens next! Crazy s**t!'- Ginevra Weasley
End Note: Edited! Yuss! Better than ever, less Mary-Sueness. and a name change for Lilia-turned-Alice. Alice is a nice name, yes?
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The moment our eyes met, I knew we had a connection. And I knew he could feel it too. That deliciously electric, tingly sensation.