A/N: Sorry about the chapter name: there was just nothing else that suited the time of day which i wanted to name this chapter after. This has absolutely NOTHING to do with twilight! Please review! And give me ideas because i have really no clue as to what this story's about. Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Harry Potter.
2. Twilight
It was twilight, Tom's favourite time of day. Darkness was quickly taking over the light of the day. He loved to watch as the night forced the sun to capitulate and after an endless fight, the sun would finally surrender to the inevitable and hide behind the horizon, shamed and defeated, while the night celebrated its victory in all its lustful darkness and sin. Tom loved to watch this, all alone, away from the world and all its endless distractions.
But Riddle wasn't tonight. He sensed someone else's presence. She appeared before him on the sandy beach, underneath the rocks he was perched on. She was beautiful, like so many others. And he just watched as she strolled along the beach, unaware of anyone else. She was a muggle, he could tell. But there was some thing about her that amused him, unlike other unworthy muggles which only sparked revolt in him. It probably was what he was watching her do.
The girl was screaming out at the ocean, in a language he didn't know but that he recognised as something Slavic. She was angry, mad. Her hands were balled into fists and she seemed to be cussing really badly. She threw fistfuls of sand in random directions, madly.
Tom watched bemused, he understood the importance of rage and anger. And he knew how important it could be to keep it to oneself, it could be something very private. And he felt completely satisfied with himself, knowing that he was intruding something personal.
The girl seemed to have finally calmed down. She sat down on the sand, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her head on it.
"You must find this really amusing, sitting there on you bloody rock and watching me like this?" She spoke, heavily accented.
And it took quite a while for Tom to realise she was addressing him. So she had noticed him.
She turned around to him when he didn't respond.
"They speak of you in town." She said. "They don't know your name, but they speak of you. They fear you. That's what you want isn't it?"
How did she know so much about him? Riddle wondered, but it gave him an immense satisfaction to know that she did.
"I'm not scared of you," she added rather defensively.
You will be.
She heard his voice in her head and shrieked. She stared at him in disbelief. "How did you do that?"
Riddle didn't reply. Why was he wasting his time with this mudblood any way?
She quickly composed herself and followed his suite in pretending nothing had happened. Tom toyed with the ring on his finger. It had a dark stone in its centre and was a family heirloom. He knew what he wanted to use it for, he had known for a long time, but now that he had killed the worthless Myrtle girl and split his soul, he realised he didn't know how. And that was why he came here every night. He needed to think. And nowhere was better than the ocean. The sea was cold here in Northern Germany. That's why this spot suited him even better: He loved the cold.
She was intruding. With her warmth and life she was destroying his meditation. He wanted to kill her and watch those big green eyes stare into his lifelessly. He didn't know why he didn't do it. He could have so easily flicked his wand and said the words, or, more brutally, pick up one of the many sharp-edged rocks of crystal and cracked her skull with it. Yes, he liked the thought of her blood pooling around her. Dripping off his fingers. Tasting it in his mouth. Now blood was something that he loved warm with memories of the life it had had.
Zarya liked the way he looked at her. It scared her, but she liked it. She could tell there was something dark working in his mind as he watched her. But unlike the other boys she knew who looked at her like that – lustfully – he seemed to think much darker than that. Much more dangerous.
"What are you thinking?" She asked, though she wasn't sure she wanted to hear it.
She noticed how the boy involuntarily grew furious. But it was only for one second and then it was gone. Though she could tell he was just hiding it.
After a moment of silence, interrupted only by the rhythmic sound of the waves lapping at the sand and rocks of the beach.
"I know what you are." She said suddenly. And Tom realised she wasn't lying.
