Chapter 6: Escaped Chills
The days gone by turn into weeks,
But your secret soul you continue to keep
They call me a liar for you'd never do
What you did to me, what lies I brew
"Come along, love," Tom said softly into my ear. "Your birthday is about to begin." His voice was so silky smooth, like heaven caged into perfection, and yet the ice in it seemed so much more real, so much more suffocating. I wished to tell him nothing more than to not speak, to not utter a single word, to just leave me in my lightness that was slightly dimmed with the mystery of my sins, and allow himself to fade in his darkness. I just wished to be free. But he did not hear my silent pleas.
He led me on, forward forever, glazing my hand with a saccharine kiss from time to time. He looked so lovely, all dark and handsome. His lips did not force their way upon me in the way I knew so well. He looked kind, and gentle, and he held an aura that was only slightly marred by Voldemort's evil. But I knew that his darkness was growing by the day, more rapid now than ever before. I did not want that. I, well, I, I loved him, it was that moment that I knew it. And if I did not love him then, I once had, foolish though it was.
How was it that I loved a man like Tom Riddle, the man who would be the death of me, one way or another? How could I be so foolhardy as to offer him my heart? But things weren't always as they were at that moment while he led me to a celebration posed wrongly for me. I had once hidden my grief within his arms. I had given myself to my terror, I suppose. But then, I was only a girl then, a girl who only wished more than anything in the entire world to be loved, despite my sins. No other but Tom Riddle could do such, as far as I knew. I hadn't asked Tom to steal me from my life, but would I have stopped him had I been able? No.
His fingers dragged at mine, pulling me harshly now, and his kisses became more brutal. Pain filled my entire being, like scorching, curses. It shook me so horribly leaving me to tremble, and then it died away.
"I'm sorry," Tom told me, drawing me in, his limbs tense and his face contorted into a look of burning hatred. His eyes were slightly glazed over with the darkest shades of burgundy, but I knew I was speaking to the man I so easily loved.
He grasped my had less tightly, drawing me down the Hall of Fire, allowing green torches to soak us in their Slytherin ambience.
He slammed his ways through the doors of the Great Hall, the Hall of Death, ushering me inside and plasing a sweet kiss upon my rose red lips. Despite myself, I could only try unhappily not to bit his tongue. After all, his snaky tongue was Slytherin.
"Welcome, my Death Eaters," he called out into the crowd of black, his voice echoing deeply through the stone. "to the Lady Lily's birthday celebration." His head of ebony hair was raised in with earned egotistical power. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him conjure up something that looked suspiciously like absinthe into a silver chalice. "To the Lady Lily!" he yelled, raising the goblet.
A song of "To the Lady Lily!" rang through the hall, but even as the Green Fairy coated all the blackened men and women in drunkenness, I could hear the bitter disdain in the even voice of the Slytherin chorus.
I smiled prettily, despite my pain, and feigned a seductive glance at the young Lucius Malfoy who probably blushed brightly in response.
"Let us dance!" Tom called, his hair falling into his red-black eyes.
But no one did dance that night. The Hall of Death was know throughout England in a dark fear as the Dark Lord's favorite place to torture the few Ministry officials who had yet to cross sides. Many aurors had died in that hall, and I knew it as well as any other Death Eater, for I had witnessed it with my very eyes, Queen of Darkness as I was. So that night, within my prison, my black cage of sin as it was, my birthday was celebrated one last time with the only know celebration know to Voldemort; death.
A scattered mass of night's black in the crowd threw off their robes to reveal themselves as kids I'd know since Hogwarts. Gryffindors I'd known since Hogwarts. For the first time in years, I didn't feel so terribly alone, and yet I felt more isolated from normality than ever before. James Potter and Sirius Black stood dead center of the crowd, right before me. Both boys, men really, stood with dark eyes sparkling with hatred.
"Hello, love," James said, deftly ignoring Tom's presence at my side. He seemed calm, almost as cold as another dark man I loved. But I could see the slightest pain within his eyes as he looked upon me. There was no ghastly shock hidden in the murky depths, and I did not expect any to be there. All of Britain knew of a Dark Queen so infamously sinful as myself. My place was expected, although perhaps I was not. But those eyes portrayed the difference between Tom and James, and it took all my energy not to throw myself into the boy's arms because I knew that there was no way in hell I could ever be welcomed there. I was tainted. And all the while, he was still James, the James that had not thrown me a single glance since I had been raped. And here he was in all his icy bitterness, speaking to me with the twinkle of love hidden, but still living in his warm, hazel eyes.
"James," I nodded, avoiding the gaze of the ever watchful Tom Riddle. I tried my very hardest to break my steady gaze with the boy, but matters of the heart, no matter how trivial or complex, do not allow such shyness. His eyes were such a pretty shade, as they turned soft, and warm, and gentle, and I could not stray for long.
But such ideas can be very bad, and I could not help myself but to reach out, my palm nearly flat, and cup his finely chizeled cheek. I did not want to speak a word, just tell his eyes that I was sorry for all the trouble I had caused, and all the sins I had committed, and have him take me in his arms and hold me forever and ever and ever. But his eyes turned quickly cold, colder than I remembered, and he backed away.
"Lily Flower," Tom whispered, harshly pulling me from my reverie of days long past, allowing me to bring my palm back to my side. But James was a quick my, made so by quidich and auror training. He was certainly quicker than me by far. He grabbed my wrist tightly.
"I won't let you go that easily, Death Eater!" James cried out to me. His face seemed so very pale. His heartache was so very obvious.
I could hear Tom laugh a cold cackle I had not heard him laugh before. "Death Eater?" he cried. "She is no simple-minded Death Eater. She is my Queen. Bow down to her!" But James did not bow even the slightest. "Crucio!" Tom yelled, and James' grasp on my arm deadened and he fell, twitching, to the floor. I stared on with glassy eyes and turned to Tom, so completely dumbfounded to find that I truly was not my master who stood at my side, pointing his wand at an innocent man, an innocent auror. I had not seen Tom hurt a man before, not ever Tom. I knew , of course, that there was in actuality no difference between Tom and Voldemort, and so he had hurt many men, murdered many men, but it had never been Tom who had hurt a soul before my eyes. So as the aurors cried "war!" in defense of their friend, I drew back into the shadows of the corner, my eyes blind to all light.
Dria Black died that night, two feet before me, and I never even knew.
With blind eyes, I left the fake glass prison I had resided in for far too long. However, some eyes were not so blind that night. As the windy air hit my face, a cold voice that I knew far too well whispered into my ear one last time.
"I do not like this situation at all, Miss Evans." The cold voice echoed. The white morning glories that climbed the fence shone under the full moon, and while they were only slightly open, they were covered in a light dew that gave the courtyard an ethereal glow. My master did not belong in such beauty.
"And what situation are we in?" I asked, fully aware that it looked as if I was trying to escape. For all I knew, that was exactly what I was doing for a long time ago, I made a horrible mistake. I didn't mean to. Of course, I didn't mean to, but I made the sort of mistake that cannot be undone. I wasn't born into sin. Hell, I was hardly born at all, for I was only barely alive. I did not live, and if I were to try to act live, to try to escape, I knew I would die, and that was a move that I was not yet willing to take. I was once a foolish girl, and because of that I now feel the pain of a thousand bloody daggers. "I see not a soul within this yard but you and me, and that can hardly constitute a bad situation while one is ignoring the fact that I'd much rather speak to Tom."
His eyes only glared harsher daggers at me, and prepare as I was, I could still feel them stabbing mercilessly into my heart. They twisted themselves through my blood and coated themselves thickly in my red soul. I could not stop the pain. My master would not comply to my silent screams of pain.
"What have I done, Lily Flower," he asked, mocking Tom without restraint. "How could you leave me? All I ever did was love you." Voldemort scoffed. "Love! Oh, how your Tom is weak with love!"
My emerald eyes met his crimson ones, and for a second I was lost inside his lies.
"Shut up," I cried. "You know nothing."
"Nothing?"
I ignored his question, my passion dying with my hope. "I wish to speak to Tom." I told him weakly, my voice evening out. Voldemort appreciated the ability to stay quiet, to stay calm. Desperate, I hoped tranquility would help me now.
"Tom," the Dark Lord said, his face contorted in internal pain. "Shan't answer your call. He has given into his birthright as heir of Slytherin. He shall be King of all Europe. He shall be your king!" A cold smile played on the evil man's ruthless lips, and a harsh wind knocked me to the ground. His next words were so icily calm, so void of emotions that I felt as if I was dead to all life. "I am you king, Miss Evans." His eyes widened and his smile spread. "Bow down to you king!"
"Never," I said, desperately trying to match his icy calm.
"Then you, my dear., will die."
"No!" a voice screamed through the night. His boyish voice was gripped with an intence physical pain, but it was Lucius Malfoy and his ever-present silken grace that entered my presence a third time that evening.
Young Malfoy looked spiritually broken. The hood of his robe fell from his shoulders on barely a tread, revealing his gashed up face. The battle sat heavy on his shoulders. His eyes were a hard gray I didn't remember seeing in them earlier in my chambers. He looked leaner than he had before, unhealthily so. Perhaps that had more to do with his posture than anything else, but I knew his look so well. In fact, it was the look of heartache that had once haunted my own features.
"Leave, Lucius," Voldemort ordered, undaunted.
"No," Lucius whispered. "I will not." I could not help but praise the boy for his sweet naïveté, but the fight was my own; not his. "Leave her be," He said, drawing long, ivory-colored wand from the billows of his torn robes. It was thin, like a sword more than a wand, with an end of black- emerald. He brandished threateningly at the Dark Lord. "Or I will kill you."
"Really now?" Voldemort asked as if only half interested. His posture was seemingly out of touch with the world around him. He twirled his wand idly through his fingers, his red eyes fixated on the spinning wood. And then it stopped, pointing straight at my heart. "Accio!" he yelled. I could feel myself in his arms. His wand was at my throat. With a single hand, he pushed up my robes to revel my legs, and groped the skin between them harshly. "Whore!" he yelled at me, and then nodding at Lucius, he screamed in his fury, "She is no more than a whore! She doesn't care for you! She's a whore!" He allowed himself a calming breath, jabbing his wand at my neck and continuing to pinch the sensitive skin between my legs. "But if it is me you want, come and get me!"
Lucius laughed cruelly. "With pleasure!"
Voldemort dropped me unceremoniously onto the ground, spreading his arms wide with a maniacal grin. "Take your best shot."
Malfoy lunged at him, grinning wildly in a burst of adrenaline. His wand was pointed at Voldemort.
The Dark Lord cackled. "Crucio!" he cried, and Lucius fell, screaming. "You shan't see another day."
But the day was not yet over, and Lucius was not done fighting. Three last words echoed through the boys throat, three terrible words that paralyzed me as green light spurred through the courtyard towards Voldemort's heart, demolishing all traces of love. "Avada Kedava, Tom!" And with those final words, Lucius fell to the ground, lifeless, earning all my devotion and all my hatred at exactly the same moment.
The man above me, the man I loved, the man I hated, dropped to my level, surrounded by morning glories.
"Tom!" I cried. Cold sweat appeared upon my brow as tears leaked from my eyes, combining in eternal, melancholy bliss.
He withered before me, revealing himself to me once more as Tom Riddle with big, black eyes.
"I'm sorry," I sobbed. "I swear I'll never leave you, Tom, just please, please don't go. Don't die on me. I'll stay here forever as your Queen."
"Lily Flower," he said softly, his breath catching in his throat before dazzling the morning glories with a thin, white frost. "Don't cry. Don't ever cry for me. I shall live. Don't cry for me."
"I won't leave you, Tom. I love you."
"No," he whispered. "Love is dangerous. Don't love. Love is weak. Tears are weak. You are not. You will live, Lily Flower, and I will live, but you must leave."
I gave Tom a blank look. He was letting me leave? I could not comprehend what had only just transpired. He was really letting me leave? I did not understand it, but I knew this much: staying with Tom was death, and I needed life. I could not stay and die with Tom Riddle, even if I wished for it more than life. The beauty of the grounds only transfixed my attention on the sadness that flew around me on black, glittering wings. I needed life. I needed to escape.
"How?" I asked, leaning over Tom's breathless form. My tears fell upon his face, glowing golden before rolling away into his robes. He looked so sad and I didn't know why.
"Past the gates," he choked. "Just get past the gates"
His brow was creased with truth in that moments, truth I had seen only once before on the moment I met him. Both of those moments changed both of our lives, and I briefly wondered if this would be the last time I'd ever see him. He spoke as a man about to die. But he would live and, despite myself, I knew it. Lucius was only a boy, an ordinary boy. He could kill no Dark Lord. Tom would live, Dark King or not, he would live, but foe all my own intents and purposes, he was dead.
"Go!" he yelled. "Run!"
And I did. I ran as fast as I could as the winds pushed out with me. Lost tears fell from my eyes and as I left the ethereal courtyard and passed through the vitreous gates, I looked back at the two men lying beside the morning glories. Lucius was dead. He, my love, Tom, was dead, but the Dark Lord was not. I had not escaped his wrath, and I knew even after I was far away from the fake glass house that my chills had escaped with me.
And I was still haunted.
A/N: It's been such a horribly long time, I know. Thank you to all the people that reviewed. As few as there are, it make me happy to know that my story is liked. I don't think I've gotten a single flame, which seems amazing to me.
Now please, everyone who reads this, please review! More reviews mean faster updates, even if you flame me.
The days gone by turn into weeks,
But your secret soul you continue to keep
They call me a liar for you'd never do
What you did to me, what lies I brew
"Come along, love," Tom said softly into my ear. "Your birthday is about to begin." His voice was so silky smooth, like heaven caged into perfection, and yet the ice in it seemed so much more real, so much more suffocating. I wished to tell him nothing more than to not speak, to not utter a single word, to just leave me in my lightness that was slightly dimmed with the mystery of my sins, and allow himself to fade in his darkness. I just wished to be free. But he did not hear my silent pleas.
He led me on, forward forever, glazing my hand with a saccharine kiss from time to time. He looked so lovely, all dark and handsome. His lips did not force their way upon me in the way I knew so well. He looked kind, and gentle, and he held an aura that was only slightly marred by Voldemort's evil. But I knew that his darkness was growing by the day, more rapid now than ever before. I did not want that. I, well, I, I loved him, it was that moment that I knew it. And if I did not love him then, I once had, foolish though it was.
How was it that I loved a man like Tom Riddle, the man who would be the death of me, one way or another? How could I be so foolhardy as to offer him my heart? But things weren't always as they were at that moment while he led me to a celebration posed wrongly for me. I had once hidden my grief within his arms. I had given myself to my terror, I suppose. But then, I was only a girl then, a girl who only wished more than anything in the entire world to be loved, despite my sins. No other but Tom Riddle could do such, as far as I knew. I hadn't asked Tom to steal me from my life, but would I have stopped him had I been able? No.
His fingers dragged at mine, pulling me harshly now, and his kisses became more brutal. Pain filled my entire being, like scorching, curses. It shook me so horribly leaving me to tremble, and then it died away.
"I'm sorry," Tom told me, drawing me in, his limbs tense and his face contorted into a look of burning hatred. His eyes were slightly glazed over with the darkest shades of burgundy, but I knew I was speaking to the man I so easily loved.
He grasped my had less tightly, drawing me down the Hall of Fire, allowing green torches to soak us in their Slytherin ambience.
He slammed his ways through the doors of the Great Hall, the Hall of Death, ushering me inside and plasing a sweet kiss upon my rose red lips. Despite myself, I could only try unhappily not to bit his tongue. After all, his snaky tongue was Slytherin.
"Welcome, my Death Eaters," he called out into the crowd of black, his voice echoing deeply through the stone. "to the Lady Lily's birthday celebration." His head of ebony hair was raised in with earned egotistical power. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him conjure up something that looked suspiciously like absinthe into a silver chalice. "To the Lady Lily!" he yelled, raising the goblet.
A song of "To the Lady Lily!" rang through the hall, but even as the Green Fairy coated all the blackened men and women in drunkenness, I could hear the bitter disdain in the even voice of the Slytherin chorus.
I smiled prettily, despite my pain, and feigned a seductive glance at the young Lucius Malfoy who probably blushed brightly in response.
"Let us dance!" Tom called, his hair falling into his red-black eyes.
But no one did dance that night. The Hall of Death was know throughout England in a dark fear as the Dark Lord's favorite place to torture the few Ministry officials who had yet to cross sides. Many aurors had died in that hall, and I knew it as well as any other Death Eater, for I had witnessed it with my very eyes, Queen of Darkness as I was. So that night, within my prison, my black cage of sin as it was, my birthday was celebrated one last time with the only know celebration know to Voldemort; death.
A scattered mass of night's black in the crowd threw off their robes to reveal themselves as kids I'd know since Hogwarts. Gryffindors I'd known since Hogwarts. For the first time in years, I didn't feel so terribly alone, and yet I felt more isolated from normality than ever before. James Potter and Sirius Black stood dead center of the crowd, right before me. Both boys, men really, stood with dark eyes sparkling with hatred.
"Hello, love," James said, deftly ignoring Tom's presence at my side. He seemed calm, almost as cold as another dark man I loved. But I could see the slightest pain within his eyes as he looked upon me. There was no ghastly shock hidden in the murky depths, and I did not expect any to be there. All of Britain knew of a Dark Queen so infamously sinful as myself. My place was expected, although perhaps I was not. But those eyes portrayed the difference between Tom and James, and it took all my energy not to throw myself into the boy's arms because I knew that there was no way in hell I could ever be welcomed there. I was tainted. And all the while, he was still James, the James that had not thrown me a single glance since I had been raped. And here he was in all his icy bitterness, speaking to me with the twinkle of love hidden, but still living in his warm, hazel eyes.
"James," I nodded, avoiding the gaze of the ever watchful Tom Riddle. I tried my very hardest to break my steady gaze with the boy, but matters of the heart, no matter how trivial or complex, do not allow such shyness. His eyes were such a pretty shade, as they turned soft, and warm, and gentle, and I could not stray for long.
But such ideas can be very bad, and I could not help myself but to reach out, my palm nearly flat, and cup his finely chizeled cheek. I did not want to speak a word, just tell his eyes that I was sorry for all the trouble I had caused, and all the sins I had committed, and have him take me in his arms and hold me forever and ever and ever. But his eyes turned quickly cold, colder than I remembered, and he backed away.
"Lily Flower," Tom whispered, harshly pulling me from my reverie of days long past, allowing me to bring my palm back to my side. But James was a quick my, made so by quidich and auror training. He was certainly quicker than me by far. He grabbed my wrist tightly.
"I won't let you go that easily, Death Eater!" James cried out to me. His face seemed so very pale. His heartache was so very obvious.
I could hear Tom laugh a cold cackle I had not heard him laugh before. "Death Eater?" he cried. "She is no simple-minded Death Eater. She is my Queen. Bow down to her!" But James did not bow even the slightest. "Crucio!" Tom yelled, and James' grasp on my arm deadened and he fell, twitching, to the floor. I stared on with glassy eyes and turned to Tom, so completely dumbfounded to find that I truly was not my master who stood at my side, pointing his wand at an innocent man, an innocent auror. I had not seen Tom hurt a man before, not ever Tom. I knew , of course, that there was in actuality no difference between Tom and Voldemort, and so he had hurt many men, murdered many men, but it had never been Tom who had hurt a soul before my eyes. So as the aurors cried "war!" in defense of their friend, I drew back into the shadows of the corner, my eyes blind to all light.
Dria Black died that night, two feet before me, and I never even knew.
With blind eyes, I left the fake glass prison I had resided in for far too long. However, some eyes were not so blind that night. As the windy air hit my face, a cold voice that I knew far too well whispered into my ear one last time.
"I do not like this situation at all, Miss Evans." The cold voice echoed. The white morning glories that climbed the fence shone under the full moon, and while they were only slightly open, they were covered in a light dew that gave the courtyard an ethereal glow. My master did not belong in such beauty.
"And what situation are we in?" I asked, fully aware that it looked as if I was trying to escape. For all I knew, that was exactly what I was doing for a long time ago, I made a horrible mistake. I didn't mean to. Of course, I didn't mean to, but I made the sort of mistake that cannot be undone. I wasn't born into sin. Hell, I was hardly born at all, for I was only barely alive. I did not live, and if I were to try to act live, to try to escape, I knew I would die, and that was a move that I was not yet willing to take. I was once a foolish girl, and because of that I now feel the pain of a thousand bloody daggers. "I see not a soul within this yard but you and me, and that can hardly constitute a bad situation while one is ignoring the fact that I'd much rather speak to Tom."
His eyes only glared harsher daggers at me, and prepare as I was, I could still feel them stabbing mercilessly into my heart. They twisted themselves through my blood and coated themselves thickly in my red soul. I could not stop the pain. My master would not comply to my silent screams of pain.
"What have I done, Lily Flower," he asked, mocking Tom without restraint. "How could you leave me? All I ever did was love you." Voldemort scoffed. "Love! Oh, how your Tom is weak with love!"
My emerald eyes met his crimson ones, and for a second I was lost inside his lies.
"Shut up," I cried. "You know nothing."
"Nothing?"
I ignored his question, my passion dying with my hope. "I wish to speak to Tom." I told him weakly, my voice evening out. Voldemort appreciated the ability to stay quiet, to stay calm. Desperate, I hoped tranquility would help me now.
"Tom," the Dark Lord said, his face contorted in internal pain. "Shan't answer your call. He has given into his birthright as heir of Slytherin. He shall be King of all Europe. He shall be your king!" A cold smile played on the evil man's ruthless lips, and a harsh wind knocked me to the ground. His next words were so icily calm, so void of emotions that I felt as if I was dead to all life. "I am you king, Miss Evans." His eyes widened and his smile spread. "Bow down to you king!"
"Never," I said, desperately trying to match his icy calm.
"Then you, my dear., will die."
"No!" a voice screamed through the night. His boyish voice was gripped with an intence physical pain, but it was Lucius Malfoy and his ever-present silken grace that entered my presence a third time that evening.
Young Malfoy looked spiritually broken. The hood of his robe fell from his shoulders on barely a tread, revealing his gashed up face. The battle sat heavy on his shoulders. His eyes were a hard gray I didn't remember seeing in them earlier in my chambers. He looked leaner than he had before, unhealthily so. Perhaps that had more to do with his posture than anything else, but I knew his look so well. In fact, it was the look of heartache that had once haunted my own features.
"Leave, Lucius," Voldemort ordered, undaunted.
"No," Lucius whispered. "I will not." I could not help but praise the boy for his sweet naïveté, but the fight was my own; not his. "Leave her be," He said, drawing long, ivory-colored wand from the billows of his torn robes. It was thin, like a sword more than a wand, with an end of black- emerald. He brandished threateningly at the Dark Lord. "Or I will kill you."
"Really now?" Voldemort asked as if only half interested. His posture was seemingly out of touch with the world around him. He twirled his wand idly through his fingers, his red eyes fixated on the spinning wood. And then it stopped, pointing straight at my heart. "Accio!" he yelled. I could feel myself in his arms. His wand was at my throat. With a single hand, he pushed up my robes to revel my legs, and groped the skin between them harshly. "Whore!" he yelled at me, and then nodding at Lucius, he screamed in his fury, "She is no more than a whore! She doesn't care for you! She's a whore!" He allowed himself a calming breath, jabbing his wand at my neck and continuing to pinch the sensitive skin between my legs. "But if it is me you want, come and get me!"
Lucius laughed cruelly. "With pleasure!"
Voldemort dropped me unceremoniously onto the ground, spreading his arms wide with a maniacal grin. "Take your best shot."
Malfoy lunged at him, grinning wildly in a burst of adrenaline. His wand was pointed at Voldemort.
The Dark Lord cackled. "Crucio!" he cried, and Lucius fell, screaming. "You shan't see another day."
But the day was not yet over, and Lucius was not done fighting. Three last words echoed through the boys throat, three terrible words that paralyzed me as green light spurred through the courtyard towards Voldemort's heart, demolishing all traces of love. "Avada Kedava, Tom!" And with those final words, Lucius fell to the ground, lifeless, earning all my devotion and all my hatred at exactly the same moment.
The man above me, the man I loved, the man I hated, dropped to my level, surrounded by morning glories.
"Tom!" I cried. Cold sweat appeared upon my brow as tears leaked from my eyes, combining in eternal, melancholy bliss.
He withered before me, revealing himself to me once more as Tom Riddle with big, black eyes.
"I'm sorry," I sobbed. "I swear I'll never leave you, Tom, just please, please don't go. Don't die on me. I'll stay here forever as your Queen."
"Lily Flower," he said softly, his breath catching in his throat before dazzling the morning glories with a thin, white frost. "Don't cry. Don't ever cry for me. I shall live. Don't cry for me."
"I won't leave you, Tom. I love you."
"No," he whispered. "Love is dangerous. Don't love. Love is weak. Tears are weak. You are not. You will live, Lily Flower, and I will live, but you must leave."
I gave Tom a blank look. He was letting me leave? I could not comprehend what had only just transpired. He was really letting me leave? I did not understand it, but I knew this much: staying with Tom was death, and I needed life. I could not stay and die with Tom Riddle, even if I wished for it more than life. The beauty of the grounds only transfixed my attention on the sadness that flew around me on black, glittering wings. I needed life. I needed to escape.
"How?" I asked, leaning over Tom's breathless form. My tears fell upon his face, glowing golden before rolling away into his robes. He looked so sad and I didn't know why.
"Past the gates," he choked. "Just get past the gates"
His brow was creased with truth in that moments, truth I had seen only once before on the moment I met him. Both of those moments changed both of our lives, and I briefly wondered if this would be the last time I'd ever see him. He spoke as a man about to die. But he would live and, despite myself, I knew it. Lucius was only a boy, an ordinary boy. He could kill no Dark Lord. Tom would live, Dark King or not, he would live, but foe all my own intents and purposes, he was dead.
"Go!" he yelled. "Run!"
And I did. I ran as fast as I could as the winds pushed out with me. Lost tears fell from my eyes and as I left the ethereal courtyard and passed through the vitreous gates, I looked back at the two men lying beside the morning glories. Lucius was dead. He, my love, Tom, was dead, but the Dark Lord was not. I had not escaped his wrath, and I knew even after I was far away from the fake glass house that my chills had escaped with me.
And I was still haunted.
A/N: It's been such a horribly long time, I know. Thank you to all the people that reviewed. As few as there are, it make me happy to know that my story is liked. I don't think I've gotten a single flame, which seems amazing to me.
Now please, everyone who reads this, please review! More reviews mean faster updates, even if you flame me.