Hello everyone! I'm so excited for this chapter and I couldn't wait to write it, I finished it all today. This was the chapter that I first imagined and began the entire story. But, it's not over yet and it continues from my imagination into the next chapter. Please, as always, enjoy and let me know your thoughts through comments! Thanks so much for your support!

As always, I don't own Harry Potter and all excepts from this chapter are from Half-Blood Prince.

Chapter 14: Family Matters

Outside of London, England, July 1943

"I have something I want to give you" Tom's voice cut through the steady rocking of the train and through Ivy's thoughts. She had been engrossed in a spell book, something that Professor Yaxley had lent to her before the start of summer vacation.

"A present?" Ivy asked, confused by the statement.

Tom's dark eyes regarded her violet ones with a mixture of amusement and excitement. "Sort of." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the diary she had given him the Christmas before.

"You decided you didn't like it?" She said, slightly hurt by his action.

Tom laughed lightly which only served to make her feel worse.

"That's not it at all." He placated, "I made some…adjustments and wanted to return your original favor."

"I don't understand."

Tom grinned. "Just indulge me and write something in it." He leaned closer to her ear before he whispered, "You do trust me, don't you?"

Ivy suppressed an involuntary shiver but chose not to answer. Instead she took the hardbound book and pulled out a Muggle-style ball-point pen. Normally Ivy would never be seen with such an obvious link to the world that she and Tom hated but since they were in a Muggle train she decided to draw as little attention to herself and her pale companion as possible. After all, if was one thing for her to be reading a non-descript book, but another to be writing with one of her eagle-feather quills.

My name is Ivy Petros, she wrote somewhat messily, doing her best to fulfill Tom's request and push her discomfort at her present being re-gifted down as much as possible. She waited a few seconds and then turned to look skeptically at Tom. She raised her eyebrows in a silent 'So? What now?'

Tom continued to grin at her and gestured back to the page. Ivy glanced down and did a double-take. The ink from her words were already disappearing, as if the book was absorbing it, and in their place she watched as a single word appeared in Tom's own looping scrawl.

Ivy!

The next thing Ivy knew she was suddenly in a very different place than a nearly deserted passenger car on the Muggle train system. Blinking, she looked around noticing as she did so that she appeared to be in a dorm room at Hogwarts. The colors surrounding her were emerald green and molten silver, obviously Slytherin House colors. But Ivy had never been in the boys dorms of any House at their school, much less the one belonging to the person she was closest to in the world.

"I've been waiting for you." Said a deep voice.

Ivy turned suddenly, not realizing she wasn't alone, and her gaze happened upon none other than Tom Riddle himself.

"Tom? What's going on? I thought we were just on the train? Have I passed out or something?" Ivy was beginning to panic ever so slightly and Tom saw this and bridged the distance between them in three quick strides.

"Calm down," he said as he placed two strong hands on her arms, drawing her closer to him as he continued to speak. "And I have no idea where you actually are, but if my other self is with you I'm sure you will be just fine."

"Other self?" Ivy drew back and stared at the person in front of her. He certainly looked like her Tom. His hair and eyes were the same as always, but he did look a bit paler than usual and the look he was giving her was certainly different, almost hungrier, as if he hadn't eaten in a long time and was just now seeing an entire buffet.

"Oh, didn't my other self explain our situation before I—he—asked you to write in the diary? Well, no matter, I expect I had good reasons for wanting myself to do it in this way."

Ivy didn't know quite how to respond to that but allowed Tom to lead her over to one of the four-poster beds and sit down beside her.

"Well, it won't take too long for you to catch on, it never has before. Remember the diary you gave me for…I guess it would still be, last Christmas?"

Ivy nodded still trying to puzzle out her strange circumstances.

"Well, as you know I had been attempting to make a Horcrux for several months and needed only the proper sacrifice and corresponding item to attach my soul to."

Tom paused and studied her.

Ivy imagined him chuckling inwardly as he waited for her to put the pieces together. Then, after about five seconds it clicked.

"You attached a piece of your soul to the diary I gave you?" Ivy replied in disbelief.

"Correct in one, as usual." Tom nodded with approval.

"So, right now, I'm talking to a piece of your soul while the rest of your soul is sitting beside me on a train to Little Hangleton?"

Tom cocked his head at her. "I believe so, though, I don't know why we—I—would be going to Little Hangleton. Tiny little place, isn't it?"

"Wait, you don't know why we're going?"

Tom raised his eyebrows again. "No, thanks to the spell I'm a completely separate piece of my soul. I'm detached from my body therefore I have no idea what is happening as time moves forward. I only know what people choose to tell me in the journal."

"Well, what did Tom, I mean the 'Other Tom', tell you?"

Journal Tom leaned back against the headboard and recounted several important details that had occurred since Myrtle Warren's death, or since the time he was officially split from his main body.

Ivy listened attentively and answered some of his questions related to the pieces he had missed, including the reason for her and the 'rest-of-Tom's' journey out of the city. After a while he seemed satisfied and asked Ivy to tell his other half to write to him when their conversation was done.

"After all, I really can't help further our collective goals if I don't know what is going on." He said dismissively.

"What do you do when we aren't writing to you?" Ivy asked curiously.

Journal Tom shrugged. "Read mostly. I can explore everything I ever experienced before my part of my soul was split. But I can also experience more when you or my other self visits me." He grinned at her. "So make sure to write to me often." Though he was grinning it was clear that it wasn't a request.

Ivy smiled. "Of course, I won't leave you alone."

Journal Tom smiled at her and leaned forward from his reclining position as he placed his lips on hers. Ivy reciprocated the kiss gladly, first gently and with more passion as the two continued. She had a vague thought that the two of them had never really been 'alone' together besides when they were in the Chamber of Secrets. Suddenly she was very excited and only worried momentarily of two things: the first was that if this was indeed only happening in her head while the second one was if she should tell 'Other Tom' about this particular experience.

Then, when Journal Tom began kissing down her neck she decided it really didn't matter either way she could figure it. She allowed him to gently push her down onto the bed. She reached up to clasp her hands around his neck, her tongue melding with his in the most amazing way. She moaned lightly in the back of her throat and she could feel Journal Tom shiver in anticipation. He moved one of his hands down to her waist and up across the smooth skin of her stomach. The sensation caused her entire body to tingle.

Ivy could feel Tom shift above her and he carefully placed one knee in-between her legs, sliding both hands underneath her shirt. He continued moving his hands upwards and Ivy allowed him to guide the shirt over her head. Suddenly, the cold air hit her newly bared skin and she shivered from more than just pleasure. She blinked up at Tom's body, towering over her own and she was suddenly very self-conscious. This was the furthest they had ever gone before and while she wanted to please him and be pleased it was all a bit too much, especially since this Tom was only a part of the real thing.

Journal Tom seemed to sense her change in feeling because he asked, "What's wrong?"

"Well…this is, you know, new…" Ivy began lamely, moving her arms to cover her mostly bare chest.

"You mean we've never done this before?" Journal Tom asked blankly.

Ivy nodded.

Journal Tom sat back on his legs before replying, "I'm sorry Ivy, I didn't know. I assumed—"

"Assumed what?" She asked, genuinely confused.

"Well, only that I've been wanting to do this for so long, I thought that we—"

"Wait, you've been wanting what for so long?" Ivy was moving slightly back from Journal Tom and she was reaching for her shirt while still maintaining steady eye contact.

"You. I've been wanting you for so long. To be with you, to make you mine as much as possible." Tom muttered out, averting his eyes from her piercing gaze.

"You have?" Ivy asked, astounded because she thought that this was perhaps the first time she had ever seen Tom embarrassed.

"Of course. I've never wanted anyone else. Just like what you told me last summer at the orphanage. At least, I was thinking that to still be the case for you?" He asked, suddenly looking very uncomfortable indeed.

Ivy smiled and grabbed Tom by his green and silver tie. "Of course it is." And drew her mouth once more to his.

Little Hagleton, England, July 1943

By the time Ivy was released from the journal the pair had nearly arrived at their destination. While she had been gone visiting Tom's 'Other Self' he had picked up her new spell book and had been muttering the incantations under his breath. Ivy, appearing to be asleep, was leaning against his shoulder, the journal open on her lap.

During those quiet hours Tom had alternated between silently observing the woman sitting beside him and trying to distract himself with the damn book. But neither activity would stem the two feelings brewing inside of him. The first was a wild feeling of pleasure regarding the quickly approaching next steps to his goal while the second was an almost equally strong feeling of lust for the woman seated beside him.

Tom had known for some time that he desired Ivy, that he wanted to make her his in every way imaginable. Not that she wasn't already, of course. He also knew that he needed to be careful considering Ivy's past. He had slipped up before during the previous summer, moving too quickly, but luckily he hadn't managed to rattle her. In fact, he suspected that she had rather liked it. But Tom knew that with all things there were limits and he had no desire to push Ivy's, at least when it came to the physical aspect of their relationship.

No, Tom would need to be more careful with her, no matter how much he wanted to force her awake in that moment and do what he could to mark her as his forever.

But he couldn't do that, at least not yet. He had to wait, just as his plan for meeting his first-known blood-relatives would have to wait.

So that's what Tom Riddle did, and no-one could ever say that the Heir of Slytherin couldn't be patient.

Hogwarts, Scotland, Present Day

Harry James Potter was rather shocked by all that he had witnessed by the hands of Albus Dumbledore during his Sixth Year at Hogwarts. They two of them had spent months parading around various memories, all of them surrounding one very important person: Lord Voldemort.

It had been several days since Harry had delivered Slughorn's unaltered memory to the Headmaster and his head was still spinning with all the implications their dialogue had unearthed. It would seem that in addition to the diary-turned-Horcrux that Harry had destroyed in his second year, Voldemort had created six more using powerful magical objects. Dumbledore suspected that the Dark wizard had used objects from the Hogwarts founders along with his trusted snake Nagini and the ring that had belonged to his mother's family. And to top it all off, it seemed that he, Harry, could only kill Voldemort when all the objects were destroyed, allowing his enemy to become mortal once more.

Trying in vain to focus on his Charms essay, Harry's thoughts wandered back to one of the more violent memories he had encountered. The one where Tom had framed his uncle for killing his father and paternal grandparents.

Little Hagleton, England, July 1943

It took Harry several seconds to recognize the place, by which time Dumbledore had landed right beside him. The Gaunts' house was now more indescribably filthy than anywhere Harry had ever seen. The ceiling was thick with cobwebs, the floor coated in grime; moldy and rotting food lay upon the table amidst a mass of crusted pots. The only light came from a single guttering candle placed at the feet of a man with hair and beard so overgrown Harry could see neither eyes nor mouth. He was slumped in an armchair by the fire and Harry wondered for a moment whether he was dead. But then there came a loud knock on the door and the man jerked awake, raising a wand in his right hand and a short knife in his left.

The door creaked open. There on the threshold, holding an old fashioned lamp, stood a boy Harry recognized at once; tall, pale, dark-haired, and handsome—the teenage Lord Voldemort.

Voldemort's eyes moved slowly around the hovel and then found the man in the armchair. For a few seconds they looked at each other, then the man staggered upright, the many empty bottles at his feet clattering and tinkling across the floor.

"YOU!" he bellowed. "YOU!"

And he hurtled drunkenly at Riddle, wand and knife held aloft.

"Stop."

Riddle spoke in Parseltongue. The man skidded into the table, sending moldy pots crashing to the floor. He stared at Riddle. There was a long silence while they contemplated each other. The man broke it.

"You speak it?"

"Yes, I speak it." Said Riddle. He moved forward into the room allowing the door to swing shut behind him. He had come alone and Harry had been half-expecting Ivy to accompany him, but was disappointed. Harry could not help feeling a resentful admiration for Voldemort's complete lack of fear. His face merely expressed disgust and, perhaps, disappointment.

"Where is Marvolo?" he asked.

"Dead," said the other. "Died years ago, didn't he?"

Riddle frowned.

"Who are you, then?"

"I'm Morfin, ain't I?"

"Marvolo's son?"

"Course I am, then…"

Morfin pushed the hair out of his dirty face, the better to see Riddle, and Harry saw that he wore Marvolo's black-stoned ring on his right hand.

"I thought you was that Muggle," whispered Morfin. "You look mighty like that Muggle."

"What Muggle?" said Riddle sharply.

"That Muggle that my sister took a fancy to, that Muggle that lives in the big house over the way," said Morfin, and he spat unexpectedly upon the floor between them. "You look right like him. Riddle. But he's older now, in 'e? He's older than you, now I think on it…"

Morfin looked slightly dazed and swayed a little, still clutching the edge of the table for support. "He come back, see" he added stupidly.

Voldemort was gazing at Morfin as though appraising his possibilities. Now he moved a little closer and said, "Riddle came back?"

"Ar, he left her, and serve her right, marrying filth!" said Morfin, spitting on the floor again. "Robbed us, mind, before she ran off! Where's the locket, eh, where's Slytherin's locket?"

Voldemort did not answer. Morfin was working himself into a rage again; he brandished his knife and shouted, "Dishonored us, she did, that little slut! And who're you, coming here and asking questions about all that? It's over, innit…It's over…"

He looked away, staggering slightly, and Voldemort moved forward. As he did so an unnatural darkness fell, extinguishing Voldemort's lamp and Morfin's candle, extinguishing everything…

Tom Riddle leaned heavily against the gate of his uncle's disgusting hovel. He was out of breath and sweating in the oppressive heat of the July night. He had decided to come alone, much to Ivy's displeasure, and as much as Tom hated to admit it to himself, he had wished that he had agreed for her to join him. It wouldn't have been, unpleasant, for some company in that moment.

What he had to just undergo wasn't at all what he expected. When he first had read the article that Ivy had found he had been under the impression that his relatives were worthy of the name of Slytherin. But what he found was a rank and filthy man who Tom couldn't believe had ever been mistaken for a wizard. He was disappointed and dissatisfied.

However, Tom had gained with the unfortunate encounter more…valuable information. It seemed that his filthy Muggle father was close, very close indeed and it seemed that Tom would have someone to exercise his rage upon after all.

He took a deep breath and continued down a side road that he had ignored on his way to his uncle's house. The night was relatively silent and with the help of his lantern he was able to see through the gloom of the summer night. Before he knew it he had arrived at his next destination, Morfin's wand grasped tightly between his long, pale fingers.

His father's house was much more pleasing to the eye than his mother's childhood home. The house—well, it was more of a manor, really—rose three stories above the manicured lawn, its white wood siding pale by the light of the moon. The front gate was smartly latched but Tom had no trouble, he merely flicked his stolen wand and walked on through. Tom walked silently up the gravel walkway, regarding the almost cheery glow of candle light with marked distaste.

He approached the front door, silently waving the wand which felt clunky in his delicate grip. The door opened noiselessly and Tom set foot for the first time in the Riddle House. It appeared that he had picked a good night to visit. The house was nearly deserted and he only heard the faint tinkle of china and glass coming from down the hallway. The noises of the meal were punctuated by ringing laughter that set Tom's nerves on fire.

How dare my filthy Muggle father carry on with his life like this? How dare he lead a 'normal' life after what he did to me and to my mother?

It was with his hackles raised like a feral wolf that Tom first met his paternal grandparents, and more importantly, his father. It could have been almost comical, if he were there under different circumstances. Almost like one of those situations on radio shows that the brats at the orphanage were always chattering about. Estranged son comes to meet his equally estranged father, never knowing he existed. Family welcomes home its newest member with open arms.

But there was nothing that Tom could find worth laughing about in this scenario.

It began immediately; he took care of his grandmother first. She was dead before she could finish her next bite of her Beef Bourguignon. Next, his grandfather slumped forward into his meal with a flash of green light. Tom left his father for last.

The man, the man who looked so much like him, was quivering before Tom, terror painted in every etching of his face. The faint stench of newly spilled urine wafting from across the formally set table. The man was shocked, his dark eyes flickering to and from the bodies of his disgusting parents.

"W-who are you? What do you want? Do you want money? I'll give you whatever you want!"

Tom regarded the man before him with cold, ivy fury, his uncle's wand raised before him with dark grace.

"Oh, father, I never wanted anything from you, especially your tainted Muggle money. But, as useless to me as you were in life, you will be far more useful to me in death. You thought me weak, worthy of nothing but abandonment. But, from your weak mistake I will become stronger than you ever could have imagined with your tiny, Muggle mind."

Tom fished in his pocket for just a moment before he drew out the black stone ring that had previously inhabited Mofrin's unwashed finger. He put it on now, taking a few precious seconds to admire the be-spelled object that would, from that moment on, house his second Horcrux.

Tom Riddle Senior's eyes had only a second to widen before—

"Avada Kedavra!"

Ivy couldn't sleep. Her heart was torn between being frustrated that Tom had insisted that she remain at the inn where they had scrapped enough money to rent a modest room, while at the same time being almost out of her mind with worry. She had tried to fall asleep after finishing the book that she had started on the train, but her thoughts kept running around in her head. Finally she gave it up for a bad job and took to pacing the floor. When even that didn't work, she decided to sit by the window, allowing the summertime breeze to cool both her thoughts and her flushed skin.

She must have nodded off because the next thing she knew she was jerking awake by the sound of the door opening and then snapping abruptly shut. Blinking around Ivy had just enough time to identify the Tom's tall figure stumble away from the door before he collapsed on the area rug.

"Tom! Are you okay?" She said as she rushed to his side. "Are you hurt? Did something go wrong?" She crouched down next to him, picking at his limbs and looking for any sign of damage, magical or otherwise.

She halted her inspection when she heard his voice escape him in a sort of strangled chuckle.

"Wrong? What could possibly be wrong? No, everything…for once, everything is so right." He said, turning his face up to look at her and continued. "Finally, finally I have everything I need, and almost everything I want."

Ivy barely had any time to register his strange dialogue before Tom placed both hands on either side of her head and pulled Ivy's lips to his own. His kisses, usually so soft and sensual, were instead very hot and needy. Tom shifted his grasp from Ivy's face to clutch her almost painfully around the waist. His grip was bruising, but Ivy wasn't put off. She shifted with him, allowing him to push her towards the bed. They had managed to pass themselves off as a young married couple and succeeded in getting a room to themselves, something that Ivy had been looking forward to. Now, though, she wasn't so sure it was their best plan.

Suddenly Tom had hooked his hands underneath Ivy's nightgown and lifted it fully over her head leaving her almost totally disrobed. She sat there in front of him with only her undergarments as protection from his ravenous gaze. Ivy regarded him and was suddenly feeling more than naked underneath his animal gaze. It was if he was looking through her, like he could see every fiber of every muscle, every curve of every bone.

His dark gaze ripped through her, taking in her almost naked form. After several minutes he looked up into her eyes and said the most heartbreaking thing she had ever heard him say.

"Ivy…please. Ivy."

I know, not the best place to leave it, but there's a lot that happens next chapter too so I didn't want it to go on for too long. Thanks again and please comment!