CHAPTER SIX

I DIDN'T GET ANY REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER FIVE! *injured sniff*

Tom stomped toward the back of the bus, his face scarlet. "Shut up, Araminta! I told you already that I know where we need to go. I'm a troll mood, v. red--"

"I was merely thinking that it was Unplottable, so maybe instead of Hogwarts, we'll have to go to Hogsmeade or something and walk in," Araminta interrupted. The bus speeded forward with a loud bang, and then halted to drop a passenger at the corner of Hollywood and Vine. Araminta and Tom tumbled onto one of the beds, their arms and legs tangled up together.

Tom looked--and felt, in Araminta's sensitive opinion--deflated. "I guess you're right." He dropped his head into the warm, smooth space where her neck met her collarbone and began to lick her gently.

Araminta arched up and pulled her diary out of a pocket. It was poking her, and she only liked to be poked in one place at a time. She'd been writing in it all day, and was very nearly done. Only a few thousand words to go by her count. As Tom's lips trailed down her skin like a ball of hot, molten lava, she scratched his progress onto the page with a quill, failing to heed her standard for point of view.

"His lips were like molten lava where they trailed over my skin. I thought I would die when he took my dusky rosebuds into his mouth, one at a time, and suckled them like a bee onto honey. His fingers traced my curves, and his moans were like the most beautiful music.

"He poked into my side, insistent and throbbing and completely a man. I twisted my fingers into his emo hair and pulled him to me for a kiss, relishing the feeling of his teeth bumping against mine. His tongue was a wonder of slickness and flexibility. I wanted to have it in my mouth for all time.

"But, as always with Tom, there was more to be had. He divested himself of his belt, which slithered out of the loops with a hiss. He was every inch a man, and he made every one of those four inches count. He was my core, my home, my plunger that churned my insides to butter. When at last we found the apogee together, it was not enough--nay, we must repeat the cycle again and again until, sated, we collapsed, sweaty, into one another's arms."

"That's not exactly how it went," Tom remarked, reading over her shoulder. Araminta slammed the diary shut angrily, and Tom pulled her back to his lay on his chest, his expression placating. "I liked it anyway. I'd read it again." He planted a dry kiss on her forehead. "We haven't come up with an evil plan yet."

Araminta sighed, her body languorous and floppy with spent passion. "The evil plan is to kill Harry's parents. This should undo the horrible lounge lizard personality and allow us to live our lives happily ever after."

"Is that what you really want?"

Araminta thought she could hear disappointment in Tom's voice, and it occurred to her that she wasn't sure any more. Harry, even at his handsome, heroic best, had the speed of Seabiscuit; Tom, on the other hand, had the stamina of Hidalgo. "It's the story I have to follow. My destiny. There aren't any alternate endings." A tear slid down her cheek for all that she would lose, all the time that she'd never know Tom, for the monster she'd have a hand in creating.

Tom held her closer. "Then you must meet your destiny, Araminta. And I must meet mine," he said in a raspy voice. "Even now, it comes over me." As he spoke, his skin began to scale and his eyes deepened to burgundy. Then, he reached over Araminta and took up her quill, scratching a line at the end of her diary.

"I am Lord Voldemort."