Hey! This is the second chappie to "The Very Secret Riddle"! Err…..read and review! Go on…you know you want to….haha, this chappies rather juicy if I do say so myself, and you wont have to have read the first to pick up the plot!

DISCLAIMER:I do not own the rights to Harry Potter! (damn)

A defining moment

Katerina slowly opened her eyes. A heavy morning sun was poring cheerfully through the high window directly above the couch she was lying on, warming her shoulders in a drowsy caressing way. She let out a sudden stifled cry and clutched the rug she had used as a quilt over her face to block out the friendly sunlight…leave me alone…let me cry in peace…She didn't feel she could handle any kindness today as she knew from the second she woke up what she must do….a ringing voice of vengeance told her it must be done. Today was the day Katerina Potter would commit suicide.

The muffled rushing sounds of water greeted her ears beneath the quilt. Dominic was obviously in the hotel shower…the door locked as usual. She could not remember the last time he had touched her, yet he got delirious with rage at a look she may give another man. The memories of her silent flirting with the handsome stranger stole over her thoughts and she curled into a tight ball of bubbling guilt, trying to forget….You'll get him back…he'll miss you…he'll feel responsible… And it was with these thoughts ricocheting sickeningly around her mind she shrugged off the rug, and padded frailly over to the dressing-table.

Before the mirror she sat, and stared at her ravaged reflection with a tangy biting sense of savage satisfaction. Here's the evidence of what he's put me through…She wished her mother would appear at this very moment and she the pain his anger had manifested on her. Mother would make it all better again….she'd tell Dominic to settle down and start treating me like a new-husband should. Katerina adored her mother, with her soft hands that smelt of rose oil and her calm authoritarian voice. Although she was the one who coerced her gently to marry him… "Go on, cherish. He'll take good care of you. God knows I cant any more. He comes from a highly respected family. What more could a girl of your connections hope for?…Love! Love is a bonus, cherish. First comes marriage, then comes love.." But Mother was wrong.

They had been married for well over 6 months now and love still had not come. Though she looked for it every where; picking apart his tiniest remarks and actions to see if they contained even a pale twist of love in them…but no. Dominic did not love her. He married her because she was quiet and abided to his wishes with utmost docility.

Stiffly, she got up off the dresser's seat and walked over to her still locked suitcase, shoved unceremoniously in a corner by Dominic after she passed out last night. She perversely choose a lurid yellow dress to wear ,and laid it carefully aside as not to crush it. The last dress I'll ever wear…She slipped off her thick pleated skirt of the night before , though as the dull skirt slid off past around her thighs, she let out a startled cry. For on the entirety of her lower stomach a deep purple bruise blossomed, spreading it's vivid hue all the way to her hips in a winding veiny manner.

Clutching convulsively at the purple bruise, she studied it's severity in contrast to the stark white of the stomach. It was a sickening sight. In Katerina rose such a fierce hate she physically ran to the cheap side dresser next to the inn bed and tore it opened, determined to find her wand that Dominic must have hidden again after she got knocked out last night…and hex him….jinx him…curse him…kill him…instead her eyes happened upon a suitcase shoved covertly into the crack between the bed head and the wall.

Curiously, she bent laboriously down and prised it out…the clasp of the case was already open. She slid an inquisitive thumb underneath it, and started to lift. What was it Dominic was so keen to hide from her? Information as to why they were here, which he had not filled her in with yet? With a great flourish of excitement she flipped it open. Her first reaction was disappointment. What was this odd metal thing? Then, with a rushing conspiracy of plans, she remembered one of these from an old muggle movie…it was an instrument of destruction…to kill. She placed it safely in her clasp purse.

All day Katerina acted completely normal. Which was rather a small feat as she talked to no-body the whole day. She left to have breakfast in the inn's bar before Dominic got out of his shower, and only saw him briefly when he came down the stairs afterwards. He looked frustrated and did not spare a glance for her as he hurried out of the inn. So, she spent the day alone in her room, in utter solitude, thinking of the night with hollow anticipation.

The gun lay heavily in her purse, emanating a black sort of presence through-out the room which stole the air and darkened the sunlight…but she knew she had to do it. She had it teach him a lesson…be it with her own life. The clock ticked occasionally upon the wall, whenever Katerina chose to hear it, bringing her closer towards her death with pitiless rigid punctuality.

Finally the clock announced 9:00. As if responding to orders, she sat up upon the couch and cast a spell at the gas lamp so light flooded the nearly dark room. There upon the writing desk was the single sheaf of parchment and quill she had placed there in orderly anticipation many hours ago. She hunched over the table, and wrote in a stable hand: Dearest Dominic, My life for your remorse. Katerina. Folding the parchment with decisive firmness, she laid it delicately in the middle of the desk. He'll be sure to find it….too late..

The roof top of the inn was weather beaten and slippery with that day's down fall. A spital of rain drummed harshly down upon Katrina's head, and a cold bitter gale howled threateningly at her to leave. She stood alone on the very edge of the high roof's periphery, a dark swirling sky spitting and snarling at her , blowing gusts as to hurtle her backwards. The sky knew what she was about to do. It could not stop her.

Her small hands clutched the gun so closely the knuckles had turned stark-white. The sky moaned and howled at her but she would not budge. It soaked her perversely yellow dress through, and whipped her long mousy hair cruelly across her face, but she remained there. Upon the very edge of the rooftop...toes dangling like a nervous diver about to tale the plunge. Katerina raised the gun to her head. She felt it's cold nose touch her temple. She opened her eyes to the raging night. "Dominic! I hate you!" ….and pulled the trigger….

But nothing but a bitter howling wind greeted her action. Then.…. Slowly, as if mocking her, a voice spoke from behind : " Well, I'd have to have a stab at the theory you're pure-blood . Am I right?"

She snapped her tear-soaked eyes open and revolved slowly and carefully upon the ridge of the roof top. Standing just below her was the handsome stranger, a playful smile crooking one side of his mouth. "And why would you be placed to make that assumption?" She demanded hysterically, her voice breaking with emotion.

He looked taken aback. "Wow! You're still coherent. And quite eloquent, may I add. Not many people can be eloquent on the brink of killing themselves." The gathering darkness and rain was blacking out most of his visage, but to Katerina, he offered safety from herself…she did not wan t to got through with this…

"Help me!" She cried down at him.

"Hang on…" He climbed with consummate skill upon the concrete platforms that divided them, and approached he carefully, as though afraid she may jump. She reached out plaintively for his hand as he offered it and held on tightly. "You're completely soaked!" he remarked, and drew her in close to him. She buried her head and breathed in his smell of soap and sweat. "Come on, I'll get you down." Together, they reached the safer landing of the rooftop. The man pulled Katerina way from himself and peered down at her. And she looked up.

The electricity shot through her in a almost remarkable fashion: it felt as though every thing she had just inflicted was wiped away to leave brilliant nothingness. She felt her knees shake with cold and fright at the feeling pulsing through her. "Sit, sit." He murmured, perching her on the edge of the rail leading to the roof-top stairs. " What were you doing?" he said, and she flinched. The cold gust was pursuing her, rising goose-bumps upon her skin. "Here." He said gruffly, holding out his thick black coat. Gratefully accepting it, she spoke softly: "It was a way out.."

"No, that was stupid. You don't know how to use a gun! What good would that be in a suicide, I ask you?" He was older than she first had thought, fine lines threading about insignificantly upon his handsome face.

"I wasn't thinking…" she ventured timidly: he was powerful, she could feel it radiating off him.

" That, " he said roughly," was apparent. But I know you. Last night you appeared around midnight with your pushy husband…"

She started crying , and the handsome stranger looked rather uncomfortable. He patted her gingerly on the back.

"Did he do this to you?" the man asked in a low voice. She could tell with a horrified ease he was referring to her ravaged and bruised face. Her ragged sobs tore at her chest, but he still seemed to be being silent for some kind of confirmation. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, she nodded.

They were silent for quite some time, a sort of unspoken consolation radiating from him which she accepted through her tears. She became aware of his warm arm upon her back. Then , he spoke quite abruptly, his mouth close to her ear. "What is your name?" Thunder growled deeply on the iron-grey sky as she answered: Katerina Potter. "Well, Mrs. Potter." He smiled. "Let me introduce myself. I am Tom Riddle."

Summoning courage from a hidden dusty corner, Katerina directed her gaze to fix his: their power and emotion held her in equal share with his arm. He continued to stare at her, a secretive smile splaying his fine lips again. She could feel the electricity surging around unseen in the air again; surely he must feel it too?

"Mrs. Potter?" He whispered. How did their hands become intertwined? "Would your husband mind awfully if I kissed you?" Katerina closed her eyes. " He wouldn't mind the slightest."

Much later, when Katerina crept back into the inn room to find it mercifully empty, she sat timidly on the bed to try and regain herself. She then strode over to the writing desk upon which her suicide note was left. It had not been touched. Smiling to herself, she delighted in tearing it into fifths: she had a reason to live now.

That's it! Hope you like it! I'll reply to every review, so plz do! (haha im rhyming!) Next chappie soon!xoxox