He was alone. The candles that lit up the long, ornate hallway failed to produce any shadows save his own. Yes. Terribly and completely alone.
This, of course, was no surprise. For Tom Riddle was in the West Wing of the castle, which was forbidden to all except him. It was his haven, his sanctuary. The place where he could escape the dull eyes of the people whom he was constantly surrounded by. No one was sizing him up, no one was judging him. Here, he could release the myriad secrets he kept bottled up within him that were constantly threatening to expose themselves to the outside world. He could completely be himself here. Indeed, it was his favorite part of the castle. In fact, the only thing he loved more than the West Wing was the solitude. He reveled in it. For only alone could his mind freely flow.
So why, then, in his fortress of solitude, did he feel a presence? Not merely a presence. No, that was too meek a word for what it was. What the presence really was, what his entire being felt, was a magnetic pull. It was perhaps the most powerful pull he had ever felt. And as someone who craved power, he felt an intense desire to find the source of this pull and possess it entirely.
Yet he wasn't impulsive. He had a sharp mind that calculated his every move, and his mind foretold of unknown danger.
Yet he could not fight it. His body began to move, as if of its own accord. It slowly began to follow where it felt the source was calling to him. He moved forward, without a doubt that he was going in the right direction. Every step he took, the pull became stronger.
As he descended down the hallway, he entered another empty hallway. The moment he stepped into the room, the candelabras seethed with fire, and the room lit up.
Yet the power of the flames could not compare to the fire that was boiling within him as he peered upon the source of the pull.
Staring across the room at him were two emerald, catlike eyes.
Persephone Bourgoyne.
She stood silently, without saying a word, as her eyes began to survey him. He mimicked her actions, and allowed his eyes to roam over her form. She was peering at him from her side, as her body was facing the wall that stood to the right of him. Her raven curls freely descended down her back, almost covering the golden dress that flowed to the floor. Her arms rested at her sides. As his eyes began to make their way back up her form, past her shapely figure and over her slightly exposed cleavage to her eyes, he noticed that she looked as if she had been waiting for him.
But the instant their eyes met hers took on an intense and daring look, that tantalized him to come to her. It was a dare he would gladly accept, as he began to take a step forward.
However, the instant he had put his first foot forward, she had raised her head, took the sides of her dress in her hands, and began to run.
As excitement washed over him, he began to pursue her. He tried to quicken his pace, but found it impossible to catch up to her. He felt as though he was under someone else's control. Or perhaps it was distraction of the way her curls bounced upon her back that kept him from achieving his goal.
Whatever the case, they reached a wall that had two separate openings for doors on both sides of it.
The sound of her running ceased, and he came to a stop next to the wall. Like a shock, he could feel exactly where she was behind the wall. He placed his hand upon the wall, and felt his hand burn as he realized her hands had touched the exact spot. He slowly slid his hand along the wall, knowing she could somehow feel his caress. On the verge of madness, he knew he had to stop the burning. He quickly moved through the opening. But when he got to the other side of the wall, all he saw was the golden flow of her dress as she disappeared into a room.
Not just any room. But his favorite room in the house. The three-story library, filled with human knowledge. The room was adorned with portraits of great wizards, including Salazaar Slytherin, whose portrait hung above the great emerald cushioned couch upon which Persephone Bourgoyne was now sitting.
He stood in the doorway, drinking in the sight. Her hands were propping her from behind her, as the bottom half of her body was pushed forward. Through her dress he could see the outline of her spread legs. He noted that her chest was becoming more exposed as her breathing intensified. Her entire posture made her seem vulnerable. She was begging him to make her his own.
He was never one to refuse a prize.
In one swift movement, he moved forward and bent down before her, slowly pulling up her dress.
Just as suddenly as he had moved to her, she put a single hand upon his chest and pushed him back.
"No." she purred as she leaned towards him without removing her hand from his chest. "Not yet."
"Then how?" He asked urgently. If he didn't have her now, he was sure he would explode.
"Before I surrender myself, you must also surrender." She said, peering at him provocatively through her eyelashes.
"Surrender what?" He asked.
Instead of relinquishing an answer, she gave a smirk and disappeared with a flash.
Tom was once again all alone, with the exception of a single word that lined the air. "Everything."
Tom Riddle agitatedly paced around the throne rooming. He was alone, save for the servants who always guarded him. The same servants who, after being awoken before the sun had risen, were quite worried that their master was going to a burn a hole in the carpet from his hurried pace. None of them knew why they were there, and all were too afraid to ask.
With a grunt of annoyance Tom looked at the clock. It had been exactly forty-five minutes since Yaxley was supposed to have met him. The only way Tom was passing the time was by imagining ways he would punish Yaxley for his tardiness.
In truth, he did not know why he was so anxious. This normally was something he could postpone, and find out for himself. But it seemed the siren was haunting him, and he found he could not rid himself of the sight of her body, spread across his couch, drawing him nearer.
Where was that damn Yaxley?
Tom was pulled out of his fantasy of choosing exactly what curse to use on Yaxley when a knock came at the door, and the subject of his anger entered.
"My Lord." He said as he leaned down and bowed. All anger was sidetracked by Tom's task at hand.
"You're late," Tom said, never one to let mistakes go unnoticed. "Do you have the information for which I asked?" He asked with a warning in his tone.
"I do, my Lord."
"Good. Let us go somewhere more private." Tom stated as he led Yaxley to his meeting room. "You are dismissed." He said to his guards as they bowed and left. "Begin." He said to his supporter before he even had a chance to sit down.
"My source at Beauxbaton said she was a favorite of every professor, in spite of certain mysteries that surrounded her. She was top in her class, and excelled at nearly every subject." Yaxley began nervously, starting with the first place he looked. In all honesty, he was frightened. But beyond frightened, he was curious. Curious as to why he was awoken by a messenger from the Dark Lord so late at night. Expecting to hear of a great battle going on, he had leapt out of bed, ready to join in any fight. He had been puzzled when he learned that there was no battle, but he had been completely baffled when he learned of his true mission: to find all information on Persephone Bourgoyne.
Persephone Bourgoyne was little more than a name to Yaxley. He had of course heard of her great wit and beauty, and even had seen it for himself a few times, but he had never so much as said a word to her. As someone who showed little interest in the cause most close to his heart, he had taken little interest in her. For how would she, a simple school girl, help him get closer to the Dark Lord? Yet now he felt this decision had been a mistake, and he wanted to know why. However, he knew the rules: do what Lord Voldemort says, and ask no questions. So as curious as he became, he rushed out to find everything he could about the heiress within the time frame he had been given. Information he now was giving to his master, hoping to please him.
"What sort of mysteries?" Inquired the Dark Lord.
"Well, there would be accidents. Students would at times have great and unexplainable misfortunes occur to them." Yaxley relayed, being careful with every word he spoke.
"And how does this relate to Ms. Bourgoyne?" Tom asked with agitation.
"According to my source, these unfortunate events would occur to girls who were Ms. Bourgoyne's enemies."
"So why do these remain mysteries?"
"Well," Yaxley answered, relishing in his master's attentions, "Persephone always had an alibi, apparently. And if any teacher suspected, within days they would all sing praises of Ms. Bourgoyne, as if she were an angel herself." Yaxley explained.
The side of Tom's lips quickly raised in a smirk. So she had charmed them, just as he had charmed his own professors.
"And what of her social exposure? Did she have many friends?" Tom asked.
"Apparently not. Her one true friend was Ms. Emily Rose. The two largely kept to themselves. I believe they remain close to this day." Yaxley stated, as Tom nodded his head, remembering seeing the two together multiple times, laughing as if they had a great secret about everyone that only they were worthy to know.
"What about male companions?" Tom asked with little concealment to his true motives.
"The source said the most she knew was a few bartenders from a village near the school who would come to the gates and occasionally call her name. However, Ms. Bourgoyne apparently never paid much attention to them."
"I want you to find out the names of these men and bring them to me," Tom stated, thinking of all the ways he could retrieve information from them. None of the ways were painless. "What of her time at home with her family?"
"Well she is rarely home. When she is, she tends to spend most time with her mother and brother." Yaxley stated, now relying on information he himself had known about the girl.
"She has an older sister, does she not?" Tom asked, knowing full well the answer.
"Yes, my Lord," Yaxley answered, "however, the two do not appear to be close. From what I hear, they take sibling rivalry to an entire new level."
Good. Thought Tom, already formulating ideas of how he could use this information to his advantage. "What of those outside her family?"
"Well, she maintains a close relationship with Ms. Rose during her time at home, as well. She appears to not be much interested in the others around her age. She has a great distaste for the Malfoys, and the only Black she appears to stand is the youngest, Alphrad."
The chuckle that Tom had released at the mention of her dislike for the Malfoys changed to a silent growl as Yaxley told of her friendship with Alphrad. Tom dug his nails into the arms of his chair as he recalled the way she had flown to his rescue at the sight of him being hurt. "What is the nature of her relationship with Alphrad Black?"
"That is hard to say. It appears friendly, but people do talk."
"And what do people say?" Tom inquired, as his voice grew louder.
"They say that he is in love with her, and that an agreement was made between them." He answered meekly, hoping with all his might that the Dark Lord would not punish him for the news he was bringing.
"What sort of agreement?" Tom asked as he attempted to withhold his anger.
"An agreement of marriage," Yaxley said in almost a whisper, "but again, sir, this is all rumor and speculation." He finished, hoping to spare himself whatever punishment would surely arise from the growing anger of Lord Voldemort.
As this reminder, Tom relaxed a little. He had learned that idle minds make idle gossip that is seldom involved with the truth. "Do you believe the rumors, Yaxley?"
"In truth, sir, I do not." He stated. "The Black boy seems too weak for the young Bourgoyne. Besides, he is a shame to his parents, and I doubt very much that Seth Bourgoyne would allow his daughter to marry someone who is on the verge of being stricken out of his family and his fortune."
"Thank you, Yaxley," Tom stated as his mind began to process all the information he had possessed. "You've been most helpful."
"Thank you, My Lord." Yaxley said as he bowed and went to kiss his master's ring before entering.
"Instruct the servants to get ready. We're going to have a little party." Tom instructed as he sat back down in the chair, eagerly thinking of ways to solve the mystery of Persephone Bourgoyne. And perhaps, with time, stop the burning that had been slowly growing inside of him like hellfire.