SOMEWHERE OVER THE RAINBOW

WOoo! I was hoping I'd publish this early. I have chapter 37 written up to, and it's a pretty intense chapter, and that's all I'm going to say about it. Things should start to be picking up from here on, more quick paced because I think it's time for the Basilisk to have more action and the end of the school year is coming soon. I want to start wrapping this up so I can work on the sequel, which should be much shorter than this one, because the third one is probably the most important one.

Anyway, I want to thank everyone who came back to read SOTR, and left the encouraging reviews, it was much appreciated and made me feel confident in coming back (: Should remind everyone to keep spoilers out of the reviews, which I will repeat again at the end of the chapter.

Also, reminding everyone to please check my profile for updates. I just posted an update about a possible fic idea that I'd like to see how you feel.

RANDOM FACT:

Morgan Le Fey is significant in this entire series. Her name will turn up more than once in the entire series.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX.
Orion's Wing

"You're being very dramatic, Evangeline. You're only eighteen years old,"

I had been moping for the last twenty four hours about turning twenty-one, though no one, besides my siblings, knew that I was turning twenty-one. Tom, the poor git, had to deal with my cranky old woman mood since dinner yesterday. When he said I was eighteen, all I could do was cry out in sadness, because that was three years from the truth.

"I'm older than you—"

I wailed again, being reminded how much younger he was to me. Oh Merlin, I'm a cougar! I'm a cradle robber! I'm going to be on TLC Cougar Wives! "She's old, but she's aiming high! Her husband is a teenage Wizard Dark Lord hell-bent on enslaving the non magical race, and living for an eternity. But she'll probably be dead long before that happens."

"I don't understand why something so trivial could be such a burden to you," Tom's voice was clearly impassive, as was his demeanour. We sat at one end of the library, secluded from anyone else that was there. While I was moaning at the window, he was hunched over a table, quill moving and just barely paying attention to my moaning.

"My mom started to get grey hair in her twenties," I confessed. To be honest, I don't even know what my mom's natural hair is, she's always died it as long as I was alive.

"You've got two years until you're twenty," he said matter-of-factly, but all I wanted to do was cry.

I WISH!

I stayed quiet though, wallowing in my own self pity, my mind on grey hair and RSPs….The sound of pages being turned, quills being scratched, and books gently flying into shelves bothered me. It made me feel like I was in an old folk's home.

"Tom?"

He sighed inaudibly, but I saw it in his shoulders, "Yes?"

"Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful?"

That made him pause writing and turn to look at me with exhausted confusion, "What?"

I gave him a pathetic sad puppy look, and the patience he had seemed to wear off. I'm surprised he held in for this long for the duration of the last day.

"Well, if your genetic premature greying is an issue, perhaps you aren't fit enough for procreation. I do not wish to have children with grey hair before I do," his face was perfectly still and emotionless, only his lips moved at a quick pace that I barely registered what he said.

When it dawned on me that he was insulting me, my mood quickly changed to self-pitying to borderline pissed. My face dropped, mouth in a straight line as I looked that motherfucker dead in the eye. "Whut?" My voice was low and threatening, catching him off guard by the sudden change of mood and tone.

"Are you offended?" His tone was still annoyed, uncaring, trying to hide any indication he noticed my change of attitude.

In response I just stared at him with a deadpan look for what felt like five minutes. I didn't move for a minute, just stared at him as he stared back. Then, much like the manner of a sassy entitled house cat, I swatted my hand against the pile of books he had on his desk, making them tumble onto the floor. I stood up from my seat, and walked by him in complete silence, down the stairs to the bottom floor, far enough away to hear him call my name, but not inclined to run after me. Didn't expect him to, Tom Riddle doesn't run after anyone.

Me, however, I'm a little different. I'm too stubborn to turn around and take back what ever I did, though if given a good reason I might. At the moment, it was a little too late, however, because I found myself in another corridor heading to no where when I truly understood what Tom just said. Cruel jest aside, he mention procreation, which meant that Tom intended to have children. The thought alone made me stop in the middle of the hall, my face staring at the floor with a conflicted look on my face. The last thing that Voldemort ever aspired to have would be children… I didn't know about Tom, since pre-horcrux Tom was probably still empty handed on how to become immortal. He must assume in order to keep the Slytherin line going he needed to sire some gremlins.

That thought made me a queasy, so I started to retreat back to the Gryffindor tower. On my way there I had the misfortune to cross paths with the very last people I ever wanted to talk to again, Professor Russo. I had hoped that I would be able to walk past him, that we would ignore each other as he ignores me in class, but I had missed his class today and he would, and did, say something.

"Miss - uh," he snapped his fingers when he stopped in front of me, trying to catch my name from the back of his mind

"Bennett," I deadpanned.

"No, that's…That's the pretty blonde one," the professor scratched the back of his head, and all I wanted to do was dig my fingers into his eyeballs. Why didn't Riddle kill him like I asked?

"The pretty blonde one is my sister," I really tried to be polite, but my words came seething through my teeth. Between Tom's blatant disregard of my feelings, and Russo's asinine comment, I was drawing my patience thin.

"Oh! No, you're right…two Bennetts on the roster, right," he chuckled awkwardly. "Well, I didn't see your face in my class today —" I'm surprised he noticed at all "— Can I ask why?"

"Wasn't feeling well," It wasn't entirely a lie, but the real reason was that I don't think I could spend over an hour with him after what happened; memories or no memories.

He looked at me curiously, then looked at me up and down which annoyed me even more. "You seem fine to me," he tilted his head. "Miss Bennett, it is not wise to be skipping class, much less a class as important as Apparition. I expect you to return Thursday, sick or no, and stay after class in order to make up for the class you missed today—"

"Professor, with all due respect," I can already feel Tom's disapproval from a mile away. "I am of having non—" Someone saved me from making a colossal mistake, and it did not come in the form of my Knight in Slytherin Robes. Instead, it was a woman in billowy, long purple robes that she practically swam in.

"Ah! Evangeline! Just the Bennett I wanted to see," Professor Sarkozy sang. She danced over to us and stopped behind me, hands on my shoulders like a protective mother as she directed her wide-eyed gaze at her colleague. "Franklyn, I'm sorry, did I interrupt something?"

His chest puffed like a cockatoo ruffling his feathers, "I was just telling Miss Bennett here that she will have to pay for skipping my class today, and she was in the middle of telling me off."

Instead of looking shocked like any normal professor would, Sarkozy laughed loudly. "Oh, yes, yes, Evangeline lives up to those galloping griffins quite a bit. But you should know, Franklyn, that as an adult, Evangeline has every right to skip your class for what ever reason she see's fit," she turned to me over my shoulder. "Why did you skip Mr. Russo's class, dear?"

"I don't like him," I answered plainly, but Sarkozy continued to smile, and look at the other professor as if this was a valid reason to skip a class.

"See? She said she was ill, and I dare say, Franklyn, that is a very valid excuse for an adult woman to make to skip a class, don't you think?"

Russo squinted at the Divinations professor as if she lost her mind, "The girl just said she didn't like me!"

"No I didn't," I denied, amused by this turn out.

"No she didn't," Sarkozy chimed in.

Russo looked between the two of us, "Yes, she did."

The blonde squinted at him with her painfully scrutinizing blue eyes, "No, I don't think so. Franklyn, I dare say that you should be calling it a night. You're starting to hear things."

"But she—"

"Off to bed young man," she shooed off the confused man, who was just at that moment converted into a child being reprimanded by his mother. Once he walked off in a confused hurry, glancing over his shoulder at the two of us and disappeared around the corner, I turned to Professor Sarkozy.

"Oh Merlin, thanks for that, Professor," she smiled politely and put her arms on her lap, hands disappearing in the trumpet sleeves. "What did you need me?" I suddenly remembered.

"Need you?" She quirked an eyebrow and began to walk away. "I never said I needed you. Have a good night, Bennett."

And in a flurry of purple confusion, the Divinations professor went back swimming down the hallway as if that never happened. I blinked at her back until she disappeared, wondering if that actually happened. After a moment in utter silence in the empty hallway, I finally voiced my bemusement.

"'The fuck just happened?"

I found myself in my dorm at last, my stomach twisting painfully and uncomfortably. It wasn't very late, not even after curfew, so people were still around the castle, or in the common room. The only other person in the dorm with me was a concerned Chloe, pouring over her homework before she had to leave for Prefect duties.

After my fourteenth moan she finally looked up from her parchment, "Perhaps you should go to the hospital wing, Bennett. That sounds like an awful stomach ache, and it could be worse."

"No," I shut my eyes, hands between my legs and curled up on the side. "It's cramps. Period's late, so these bad boys are even badder now."

I didn't see it, but I'm assuming she rolled her eyes and returned to her work… if only for a moment after I let out another groan of agony. "Do you want me to get you something to ease the pain?"

I didn't give her a response right away, because it took me longer to swallow my pride to nod my head, "Yes please."

With a sigh, she stood up from her bed and ruffled through her belongings. I could hear some shuffling and the sound of a teacup being placed on a saucer, and then the sound of water being poured. Soon I heard it being placed on my side table, bringing the refreshing smell of mint and chamomile.

"Now, when you're done groaning and moaning, feel free to join civilization down stairs," I opened an eye and watched her gather her belongings and start to descend downstairs.

"Thank you!" I called out, much to my uterus' chagrin. With great effort I managed to sit up and pick up the magically hot cup of tea that Chloe had conjured for me. The aroma was already easing the pain a bit, and once the hot liquid reached my stomach I gave a satisfied groan rather than one of anguish.

Five minutes past and the tea was like magic, and I assumed that's what it was. There was still a dull pain my gut, almost like soft drilling (if that was possible), but I was able to move and not cry in a puddle of my own vomit and sweat. I finished the tea, but didn't feel like moving from my bed, let alone out of the dorm room, but I was bored and finished all my homework for the last two days. I suddenly remembered Riddle's diary and the linked journal that I kept in my trunk; it had been a while since I checked it and that first time it was bare. Though my suspicions told me that it would be exactly the same as it was, I decided to check anyways, because I really had nothing else to do.

Digging into the darkest depths of my trunk, I found the diary where I left it, with a single strand of hair that I plucked from Jeanette's head to wrap around it, signalling that it had not been tampered with. That was an old muggle trick that I'm sure everyone here didn't even think about. Alohomora all you want, you can't get past the hair without being figured out.

I snuggled my back into my pillow and pulled my knees to my chest as I propped up the red diary on my knees. For some reason I had a feeling of unease in my stomach, and it was partially because my uterus was prepping to become the elevator scene in the Shining, but also because of what this book represented. It was a direct link into not only Tom Riddle's mind, but into the first piece of his soul….when that day comes. As for his mind, though, I just need to open it to see if he actually wrote in the diary that I gave him. It seemed to be too trivial and out of character for someone like Tom to have a diary and freely write in it, but…

I opened the diary at last, and for half a second my stomach sunk in disappointed, as it was completely blank. However before my disappointment could properly settle, black calligraphy began to ink through the pages, one line at a time until a good few pages were filled with Tom's familiar handwriting.

"I can't believe it worked," I voiced my amazement.

The date of the very first entry, to my amazement, was the day after we made love for the first time. This was surprisingly human for him to do, and it caught me off guard.

January 2nd, 1945

I never thought I'd use this ridiculous thing that, that woman gave me. I suppose it has it's uses, which this will be one. I rather not confide into anyone in this school as they are all unworthy of my thoughts, so a book that I can only read seems the best of two bad choices.

Oh, my optimistic sweetheart.

Evangeline and I made a union for the first time since we started our courtship. I must confess I did not foresee this coming since we made our arrangement months ago. I had no desire to have any psychical contact with anyone, let alone an intimate one, as the universe knows the only pleasure I can get are from…

He ruined the moment.

Still, I was pleasantly surprised by the outcome of New Years eve. I was filled with… a feeling that can only be reminiscent to

"Oh my God," I snapped the journal closed and pinched my eyes. Did he just compare our love making to the idea of him killing a muggle? Why am I surprised? This is the Diary of a Mad White Teenage Boy. It doesn't even have to be Tom Riddle's for me to be less surprised.

With great hesitance I opened it, and tried to skip over the parts where he compared sex to total global domination.

Though at the end, while I wanted her to call me by my proper name, she said something else. What she called me made me realize that our union was not only for the purposes of desire and pleasure, but an expression of our bond.

That was surprisingly poetic and romantic and therefore, I don't trust what I'm reading. A sentence ago he was basically confessing that he gets off to murder. I briefly wondered if he knew about the twin journal, and was aware that I was reading…but I don't think there was any evidence that this one existed.

A bond that I don't entirely understand, and perhaps I won't ever. Such feelings are beyond my comprehension , and if it weren't for her, I would not bother with even toying the idea of lust, intimacy, or love for that matter. Evangeline called me 'My Love' in favour to 'My Lord', and that made the night more personal. It was one thing to be in control of a slave, or a follower, of someone that was under your thumb and at your command.

Her title, while sickeningly sentimental, made the union less primitive and more… amorous, or personal, I suppose you can say. It was a new, queer, albeit not uninviting feeling. I don't know if I should encourage that or eradicate it as quickly as possible… My entire life has told me that such sentimental garbage can only weaken one's ambition and snub any chance of power and success.

Perhaps she will be the first to disprove those philosophies, but now isn't the time to allow it to hinder what I have at my finger tips. I don't need anymore distractions.

I don't know how to process this new information. This was a side of Riddle I wasn't prepared for, let alone knew was possible. All the things he had put me through like a proper sociopath, yet this was his diary, expressing a very vulnerable moment he had and admitting it to himself. I didn't think he was capable of such a thing, though I guess I didn't know him as well as I assumed I did. I briefly wondered if this was some kind of trick, that he really did know the trick between the two journals, and as pay back he could get my hopes up and catch me in the act. So many thoughts and ideas came to mind, and the buzzing reminder of the fact that Tom Riddle was just that… Tom Riddle. Sociopathic tendencies aside, he was still human; his eyes were blue, not red, his hair was thick and dark, he wasn't bald and translucent. His nose was perfect and straight, not flat and slitted, and his tongue was long and sharp, not forked and slimy.

I have to remind myself that he isn't Voldemort, not yet. Even if he wishes to be called that, he will always be that eighteen year old boy striving for power beyond his capabilities. What he was fully capable of, as every human was, was emotion and love. The books and movies always depicted him as uncaring and loveless, incapable of connecting to another human being. That could be said for many sociopaths, but for Voldemort's case, it always came as…he was chemically, biologically, and physically incapable of anything human. With Tom Riddle it was merely implied, and we only witnessed the personal encounters of him through Dumbledore and Slughorn, both with bias opinions. Have they really seen any other side of him than the one that Tom wants everyone to see?

I got lost in my thoughts and before I knew it the dorm room was being filled by my mates, all getting dressed for bed. I wrapped the hair around the journal again and put it back in place in my trunk before anyone took notice that I had it.

"How are you feeling? Chloe said you were ill," Kay said as she slipped her nightgown over her head and pulled back the comforter.

"The tea she gave me helped," I sighed, fitting my legs under the covers. "Still feel a little gross though."

"Perhaps tomorrow you have a bath and go see Madam Lambert?"

I rolled my eyes and then onto my side, "I'm fine," I waved her off. "Stop worrying."

The morning came with the wonderful sight of spotting, indicating, as I predicted, my period. The only welcome I got from it was that it meant I wasn't pregnant, but it being late only resulted in the extremely unpleasant cramps that came with it. It had to be bad, and on the day where we'll be having our first day of practice of the play. With that in mind, and not wanting to spend an entire day of classes feeling as gross as a Rob Zombie film, I decided to make a pit stop at the hospital wing for something to ease the cramps.

In the mean while, I struggled to button my blouse over my chest, which seem to swell. "Fuckin'… Holiday food," I muttered to myself. I made a mental note to lay off the cakes and custards from dinner from now on. I suppose it didn't help that I was bloated from having my period, so overall, I felt, and probably looked, fatter than normal.

The painkillers that Madam Lambert had gave me did it's job to ease the pain in my gut. I was able to go through the entire school day with minimum discomfort, that was until Care of Magical Creatures. It was February, so we couldn't very well spend the entire day outside. Most of Care of Magical Creatures was always in doors, much to the dissatisfaction of Professor Kettleburn, who was now down to eight fingers and one and a half ears. However today it was outside, forcing everyone to bundle up and wear boots to tread through the thick snow. That day he was introducing us to a rare breed of winged horse called Abraxan, flown here all the way from France. There were two, one male and female. The female was the aggressive one, so she spent a majority of the class in the stable. The only reason why she came was because she was bonded to her partner, and would come depressed should they separate.

The animal still looked rather unsettled as the students gathered to pet the beautiful wing horse, who's name was Orion. The female's was Artemis, which I found fitting. Orion enjoyed the attention, but for a reason not even known to Kettleburn, Artemis' distress over the attention he received was a bit odd. All I could think was that she was just protective over her man, like any woman would.

When it came my turn to pet Orion, I went up to him, bowed like I was instructed, and he allowed me to touch his muzzle. He was twice the size of a normal horse, with wings that could easily stretch over everyone's head if we stood side by side next to each other. Orion pawed at the ground and nodded his head into my hand, his mood for some reason changing dramatically, and thus affecting his mate's behaviour.

What happened after was all a blur to me. I remember hearing the fence break, the loud neighing of a distress winged horse not wanting a hormonal woman all up on the grill of his arousing mate (he caught whiff of my menstruating, which evidently some animals can do and respond to it). I remember people screaming and the giant horse before me reacting to his crazy girlfriend immediately as if to say "I WASN'T DOIN ANYTHING", and before I knew it I was being hit in the face by a very strong large wing.

After some stars and the faces of Tom and Kettleburn hovering over me, the last thing I said before I blacked out was "Orion's pretty."

Alright guys, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, because it was fun to write. The ending's a bit rushed, but that's because I just wanted to wrap it up.

I also want to remind everyone to keep spoilers, as well as speculations of what you think is happening out of the reviews. If you really want to discuss things like that, PM me, or go to SOTR's blog that I provided in my profile and send me an ask!

Happy Readings xox

QTJ