"Are you a ghost?" a distant barely audible voice echoed along the walls of the Chamber of Secrets.

"A memory, preserved in a diary for fifty years," replied a familiar voice with uncharacteristically friendly tone.

You opened your heavy eyes, disoriented and confused. Where, what, how? The memories came back faster than you would have liked, reminding you of the deceiving Tom Riddle and Ginny's death. You tried to stand up, realizing that you were laid upon a comfortable luxurious sofa in the darkest corner of the Chamber, away from the vastly open space. Must be Tom's doing. Panic took over your body as you remembered him torturing you not too long ago, savagely slicing at your arm for no reason. You hurriedly looked at the damage finding none left at all, not even a scratch. That psychopath must have healed you.

You were barely able to sit up, feeling like you were under the influence of some sort of sedative or, mostly likely, a spell. Standing was out of the question, leaving you sitting down and feeling useless. What is Tom's problem? If he could carelessly hurt you without giving it much thought, then why did he even bother healing you afterwards? And then he leaves you sleeping on a rather luxurious relaxing sofa, as if your comfort means anything to him.

You shook your head in confusion, trying to find a suitable explanation. You knew Tom was a total self-absorbed jerk, but you never expected him to be a murderer. He was much darker than you had anticipated, and it was frightening how he was able to gain your trust so easily. You were too foolish to see through his act, blinded by the notion of "friendship through time."

You frowned as you tried to look back on all of your chats with Tom, trying to remember what he was like before. Surprisingly, once you thought you had become good friends, he acted the same way he was acting now. He was very strict and demanded you to recognize his intellectual superiority, which you did of course. He demanded respect from you at all times, which you unconditionally gave because of his genius. Tom acted like a self-absorbed pompous asshole which irritated you to no end, yet somehow made you drawn to him even more. The more you thought about it, the more you realized that nothing has really changed about Tom. Sure, you found out he was a killer and a total psychopath, but he was not pretending when he spoke with you through the diary.

"I knew it wouldn't be safe to open the Chamber again while I was still at school," Tom's voice echoed across the Chamber, finally reaching you. You perked your head up, listening intently.

"So I decided to leave behind a diary, preserving my sixteen-year-old self in its pages, so that one day I would be able to lead another, to finish Salazar Slytherin's noble work," you frowned biting your lip in thought. Is Tom lying? There is no way to preserve yourself inside an object unless you store part of your magical essence in it, which was connected to your soul. Of course, none of this information was taught in school, and your knowledge of this magical theory was solely due to your own private knew that a wizard could store his magic inside an object for a certain amount of time, but it would eventually leak out and disperse. So storing your entire self or part of self was simply impossible, unless you literally tore a part of your soul, which was dangerous and stupid. Why would anyone want to do that? Ugh, Tom was lying.

"Why do you care how I escaped? Voldemort was after your time."

"Voldemort is my past, present, and future," you could recognize that cocky pleased tone of voice anywhere. What the hell was Tom talking about? And who was in the Chamber with him?

Your curiosity was eating you alive, so you got up and wobbled closer until you could see Tom's back in the distance. You leaned against the wall peering at him, watching as he wrote his name with a wand. You blinked as the letters rearranged to "I am Lord Voldemort." Really, Tom? The fact that the letters of your name could be used to spell out "Lord Voldemort" didn't necessarily mean that you were Lord Voldemort...no matter how much you wished you were.

"You. You're the Heir of Slytherin. You're Voldemort," spoke a rather boyish voice.

Tom's eyes shifted to the side for a split second, sensing a very familiar conscious presence. Her thoughts were so loud he didn't even have to keep eye-contact to read them. He'd have to punish her later for her insolence. Nobody made fun of his name.

"Surely, you didn't think I was going to keep my filthy muggle-father's name?" the hiss in his voice projected every single bit of hatred he felt, making you shudder. You were almost sure his eyes were turning red by now.

"No. I fashioned myself a new name. A name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I became the greatest sorcerer in the world," the more Tom spoke, the more clear it became that he was serious.

"To be honest, I wanted you to learn the truth differently, perhaps under more pleasant circumstances," Tom's back was still facing you, his words seemingly directed at the smaller figure in front of him, his voice much softer and calmer. "But it doesn't matter now."

Once again, you felt Tom's powerful dark magic surround you, as if telling you that he was aware of your presence. So, were those words directed at you? Did he plan to tell you everything later? Denial clouded your mind instantly. There was no way Tom was Lord Voldemort. Voldemort was the face of all evil, while Tom was just a charming asshole with psychopathic tendencies. You felt his magic tighten, angry sparks dancing against your skin.

Crap, could he hear your thoughts? Voldemort was known for being the master of Legilimency, and you caught Tom reading your thoughts multiple times before, so could he really be the younger version of Lord Voldemort himself? Not much is known about Voldemort's past or where he came from. It was possible that he used to be a charming man like Tom Riddle. But that would mean that he was more than sixty years old! Tom, however, acted like an intelligent mature young man with teenage tendencies, considering his rather...perverse nature at times.

The dark magic around you seemed to calm down a bit, pushing you away from the scenery and leading you back to your original hiding place.

"Stay here," Tom's stern voice echoed inside your head as you landed on the conjured sofa in the dark corner. "Do not disobey me."

You felt the magic finally release you, leaving a warning-filled chill behind. His voice was serious and stern, carrying so much authority that you didn't even think about going against his wishes. An intense worry swallowed your body. What if Tom was indeed Lord Voldemort? That would mean that he was not dead, that he was trying to return and take over the magical world...and you were helping him, even if you weren't aware of it. Merlin help me.

You heard a bird-call echoing through the Chamber of Secrets, distracting you from your original thoughts.

"So, this is what Dumbledore sends his great defender. A songbird and an old hat," spoke Tom smugly, his voice filled with spiteful humor and disgust. You could only wonder what was going on on the other side of the Chamber.

"Let's match the power of Lord Voldemort, heir of Salazar Slytherin, against the famous Harry Potter." You frowned lifting your head. Harry Potter? He was just a second-year, what good would he do? Was Tom really going to challenge a child to prove a point? Sure, Harry Potter somehow managed to defeat Voldemort twelve years ago as a baby, but that didn't mean he was all powerful. Knowing Tom, he probably wanted to fix what he did wrong the first time and eliminate Harry Potter for good.

Deep snake-like hissing filled the entire room, belonging to something much bigger than a regular serpent. A chill ran down your spine as you heard its scales drag against the wet floor, realizing just how massive it must be. Unknowingly, you hugged yourself on instinct, too frightened to even look at the creature. You tried to think rationally, which usually served as a calming draught for your brain.

It was most likely the creature Salazar Slytherin himself had imprisoned in the Chamber. Being aware of Salazar's enormous ego, you were suspecting a giant serpent to be the Chamber's monster, which didn't make you feel any better.

"Don't look into its eyes,"you heard Tom's voice inside your head, surprisingly calming you down. He didn't sound as angry as before, which allowed you to relax, if only just a little. You felt Tom's dark magic engulf you once again, but it felt almost comforting, powerful, protective, and reassuring. Why was he doing this? Could he sense your fear so easily? If so, why did he even bother? Nevertheless, you accepted the offered comfort, too scared to deny him, too scared to anger him.

Suddenly, the snake-like creature roared and hissed angrily, fighting off what sounded like a bird. A fleshy sound reached your ears making you cringe and sit further into the couch.

"No!" you whimpered when Tom's comforting magic suddenly curled harshly against you. Was it something you said? Was it something you thought?

"Your bird may have blinded the Basilisk, but it can still hear you!" the magic began gradually release you from its painful hold as the sounds of struggle and ramage filled the Chamber. Soon enough, the roars of Basilisk could only be heard in the distance, leaving the place silent once again.

"There is no reason to be afraid," you heard a smug but amused voice coming closer to you. The echo of slow approaching footsteps was making your heart beat even faster. "The monster will not attack unless I say so," that did not make you feel any better at all. Your fate rested in Tom's hands and he wasn't at all a nice man. You hugged your legs even tighter when you saw his silhouette, the gravity of the situation finally hitting you. Tom was Lord Voldemort… Voldemort was Tom Riddle. However, that familiar smirk on his lips somehow calmed you down. He wasn't the Voldemort you knew yet, so maybe he wasn't that much of a monster?

"You told Potter you were a memory preserved in a diary for fifty years. We both know that is not possible," you spoke trying to sound unaffected and calm, but your voice shook a bit. You did not want to face the truth about Tom's "secret identity" just yet, nor did you want to talk about it with him.

A scoff left Tom's lips as he came closer, his eyes following the outline of her perfect legs which she was still hugging, stopping to look at her underwear that she didn't realize were showing from under her skirt. He licked his lips a bit, feeling his throat tighten at the display as he set next to her, his eyes connecting with hers.

"Of course not," he replied and watched her put her legs down, shifting her body away from him. He could sense her discomfort with his presence, which both annoyed him and amused him.

You didn't like being so close to him, especially when he was eyeing you over like that. You looked away, unable to meet his intense gaze at the moment. You felt his magic caress your legs causing you to squirm in your seat. How he was able to tease you during the time like this was out of your comprehension. He acted like sending the Basilisk after a second-year was just a hobby.

"There is only one way to preserve a part of yourself in an object for so long," you began meeting his eyes briefly before looking away. "At least from what I know," you decided to correct yourself in case your knowledge about the subject was lacking. You noticed Tom squinting his eyes at you, a small frown on his face as his jaw tensed a bit. His subtle reaction instantly silenced you, causing you to scoot away from him, only to be stopped by his strong magical hold.

You felt pressure on your head realizing that Tom was trying to read your mind not too gently. You tried your hardest to keep your thoughts clear, putting up your own magical barrier around yourself for the first time in your life. It took almost all of your concentration just to keep your magic in a protective cocoon. However, the more you resisted the stronger Tom's magic pulled at you, eventually tearing through your defences. You yelped at the sudden jerk that pulled you closer to him with his wandless magic. You were pressed against his warm chest, your face turning red instantly.

"Tell me," Tom spoke a bit coldly, holding the back of her neck and pulling on her hair to force her to look at him. He wasn't rough enough to cause pain, but he wasn't gentle either which sent a clear message of his seriousness. He did not want her to stray too far into the Dark Arts yet, not without his guidance and supervision.

"It's to store part of your magical essence inside," you replied quickly, frightened of his glare and of the things he was capable of. You felt yourself shudder as his fingers untightened around your hair, now gently holding the back of your head instead. "Which is close to impossible because it's connected to a wizard's soul," you added in a shaky voice staring into Tom's chocolate eyes. Your cheeks were tinted pink as you noticed how incredibly handsome he was up close.

So, she didn't know about the horcruxes just yet, though she did have a good understanding of the magical theory. Good. He didn't want her to lose her innocence just yet, enjoying her passion for learning way too much. Plus, he wanted to be the one to corrupt her instead.

You tensed when you felt a thumb brush against your lips, worried what it might to lead to. Tom was looking intently at you, mere inches away from your face, his expression calm and hypnotising. Your fingers curled into his cloak as he slowly began to close the distance between you two. You couldn't shift your head to the side even if you wanted to, his hand holding you firmly in one place.

A wave of excitement and adrenaline washed over you the second his lips pressed against yours, causing your heartbeat to race and pump blood down to your nether regions. Your body reacted on instinct, fingers going through his dark wavy hair as the kiss intensified. You could feel Tom breathing hard against your skin as he too lost himself in the feeling. He pushed you further into the couch, dominating the kiss and letting his passion take control. His mouth was hungry and needy, moving expertly against yours. His tongue was almost sinful as it danced against your own, invading your mouth.

It felt so right to kiss him like this, it felt magnificent to give into your dark desires. You knew he was a murderer, a psychopath with no regards for human life, yet all you wanted to do was to continue kissing him. You moaned into Tom's mouth when he buckled his hips forward, pressing his trousers against the thin material of your undergarments. His dark seductive magic was everywhere, caressing every inch of your body in its possessive dominating hold.

Tom could feel her own powerful magic dance around him, inexperienced and untrained but so delightfully willing. Her magic recognised him as a worthy compatible mate, even if she herself disagreed with it.

Not many things could make him lose control like this. No girl he has slept with could ever excite him as much as she did. No girl ever sparked so much interest in him as the one underneath him right now. He always knew what he wanted. He wanted to take over the world, he wanted unlimited power, he wanted to live forever, and...he wanted her.

He was ready to rip the annoying fabric of her panties until he heard the return of the Basilisk. It dropped the boy's unconscious body and left after Tom gave it an angry hiss. He looked back down at the flushed face of the heir of Ravenclaw, breathing hard and irregularly underneath him, eyes half-closed and simply bagging for him to continue. He liked that expression on her face much better than anything else in the world right now.

He conjured her underwear away and bit his lip at the sight, pulling her hips closer to him. He didn't bother with the rest of her clothes, too eager to continue where they had left off. However, a sudden sound from the chamber sparked his attention, causing him to frown and turn to look in the direction of the previously unconscious Harry Potter, who was now holding a Gryffindor sword.

A Growl of anger left Tom's mouth as he stood up quickly, taking out his wand, and striding towards the boy who just wouldn't die.

You watched wide-eyed, knowing all too well what Tom was going to do. Fear for the boy's life took over your body as well as disgust towards your previous actions. You couldn't believe you were about to let that psychopath take you like this, in the Chamber of Secrets, in a presence of Ginny's lifeless body. He was a sick manipulative creature who was seducing you to help him, but you weren't going to let him. You wondered if there was anything you could do to stop him. Maybe... He was still tied to the journal? It was a long shot, but you were willing to take it.

You saw your bag in the corner of the room and quickly jolted to it. Taking out the old journal you ran as fast as you could, catching Tom's and Potter's attention as you stood between them. Tom's eyes were red as they landed on you, realizing what you were holding, directing the anger he had felt towards the boy at you now.

"Put that down," he hissed pointing a wand at you. Your body trembled, feeling the sparks of his angry magic all around you.

"N-no. You will not kill him," you spoke with whatever courage you had. "If you do, I will destroy the journal!" you tried to sound a bit more confident. Tom's mouth pulled into an angry pout, cringing his nose in obvious distaste at your words. He then scoffed, a mad smirk engulfing his features, making him look almost psychotic.

"And how will you do that without a wand?" his voice was filled with sick amusement and satisfaction, triumph so clear on his face.

You knew the chances of your success were minimal, but you couldn't watch someone being murdered in front of you, not when you could help. You knew Ginny had her wand somewhere in her cloak, at least you hoped she did. You outstretched your hand, pushing all of your magic into it, concentrating on the object in your mind.

"Accio," you spoke with purpose but nothing happened. "Accio!" you tried again using more force and determination behind your words. You frowned and extended the range of your magic, stretching it to its limits, sweat forming on top of your forehead. You pictured the desired object in your head as clear as you could and called for it.

"Accio Ginny Weasley's wand!" you opened your eyes breathing hard when you felt the cold wood against your fingers. You felt drained but happy you managed to accomplish something you hadn't even dreamed of.

Your eyes connected with Tom's which held a mixture of anger and pride in them, a rare combination indeed. You pointed the newly acquired wand at the book, meaning every threat you previously spoke. His eyes squinted at you, wand-hand steady and ready to fire a hex at you should you dare to disobey him. Both of you stood like this, staring at each other to see who would make the first move.