Disclaimer: I am not the owner of Harry Potter. But I don't care. That's not what makes me sad. I'm sad, you see, because I'm not the owner of Tom Riddle....now that, ladies and gentlemen, is depressing.

A/n: thanks to all those that reviewed...you guys keep my spirits (and postings) up. So here's a thank-you...

Wickedharrypotterfam: here it is! Yay! I'm so glad!

SlytherinRulesDracoIsMyGu: missing the Y there? Oh well. Nice to see some of my BTT fans are reading my decent stuff.

Leafs-gurl999: I'm very much in love with riddle. I hope its funny....I've got a shocker in mind.

"You, Tom Riddle, are a bastard, and I do not like you," said Ginny flatly.

"Let me finish the story, Ginevra!"

"Finish it decently, Tom Marvolo!"

"Okay, fine," he snapped, and went on."

"I want you to stay," he repeated.

"Get some other girl!" she snapped.

"I don't want to!" he yelled back.

"Hey, you already told us this," complained Ginny.

"Yeah, well, listen anyway," Tom snapped, and she fell silent.

"You were going to mess with all those other girls at the lake!" she cried, fumbling, pulling at his hand. His grip was powerful.

"No, I wasn't!" he shouted. "I only went there for you-"

She stopped and stared at him, open-mouthed. He let go of her arm, mortified. She sat on the edge of his bed, her eyes wide.

He reached out his hand to touch her face. She slapped it away, suddenly angry, and stood.

"I'm leaving," she said, her voice shaking. She turned and ran down the staircase.

"Fine!" he shouted after her. "See if I care!"

And he stormed back into his room and tried to sleep. He didn't sleep until midnight, when everyone else had gone to bed and fallen prey to dreams.

"Tom," came a voice. He didn't open his eyes. He was tired, after all.

"Tom, wake up, you useless bastard."

"I am awake. I just have my eyes closed."

"I'm sorry about earlier." Mercy said, and he felt her hand brush away some stray hairs on his forehead.

"Yeah, I know. What time is it?"

"Two am." Mercy replied, and he felt her fingertips on his cheek, his chin, his neck....the opening of his shirt.

"Two...? But- that's what you said earlier!" His eyes snapped open. Her nightgown- it was white. Not black. What the-?

Her eyes were brimming full of concern.

"Tom- I never said anything about the time."

"Yes, you did- when you came and asked me if I'd help you study tomorrow-"

She looked positively fearful now, and her cool hand swept across his brow. "Are you ill?"

"What?" He sat up. He was still in his school clothes. He knew he had never taken them off.

Mercy was sitting on the edge of his bed.

"You must have been dreaming, Tom." She laughed lightly. Her laughter sounded like silver bells.

"Now I know that you do dream." She said.

He slid to the edge of his bed, sitting beside her, head in his hands.

"It was so strange. And you were in a black nightgown, too."

She looked at him strangely. "Black, did you say?"

"Yeah."

"What sort of nightgown? Did it have lace on the neck?"

"A ribbon, yes, also black." He looked up at her. She looked ill.

"What's wrong?"

"oh, nothing..." she insisted. But she looked very faint. "Do you mind if I lie down here for a bit? I'm feeling...."

"Oh, no, please do." He said quietly. She lied down on his bed, looking very shaken.

"Please, what else?" she asked. So he told her the dream. She looked confused and startled when he was done with it.

"Care to share any musings?"

"Not really."

He sighed, and said, "I didn't think you would."

She sat up. "I'm sorry about earlier."

"Oh, no, that's okay."

"No, it really isn't. I was terrible." She was staring at him intently, pain in her eyes. She really was sorry.

"I'm going for a walk. You know, clear my thoughts. Would you like to come?"

Mercy looked surprised, and- could it be? Flattered?

"I'd love to, but you see, you're better prepared to go walking than I am." She whispered.

"Stop whispering, silly; no one's listening in."

"Walls have ears, Tom- and eyes, sometimes."

He would have laughed of she hadn't looked so grave.

"Go change, then- I'll wait."

"Why do you want to go with me?"

He laughed quietly. "Go change," he repeated, and she held up her wand and whispered something.

Suddenly a few of her things came flying in. She caught them; a shirt, a pair of pants, and shoes. She was obviously wearing socks and undergarments already.

"Mercy, I-"

"Turn around, Tom."

"Mercy-"

"Don't watch me undress."

He shook his head and turned around. A few times he was tempted, but he never looked. Finally, she tapped him on the shoulder.

He turned; she was in a pair of worn in jeans and a fitted black t-shirt. His eyes lingered a little too long on her chest, and he shook his head and glanced at her face, studying the way shadows fell across it. She looked so tired, and so vulnerable.

"Let's go," she whispered.

"Won't you get cold?" he asked her as they descended the stairs.

"Don't be silly," she said with a soft laugh. They dashed out of the common room and crept into the hallway- they would be walking outside.

They sneaked out into the moonlight. Tom admired the way the moonlight fell across her face, and lit up her hair. She turned to look at him shyly, moonlight filtering through her long eyelashes.

Before he knew what he was doing, he had walked over to her and looked into her eyes, oh gods, she was the loveliest thing he'd ever laid his eyes upon, and he had seen many lovely things. Beautiful for the gifts they gave him freely, the gifts they presented him with although he had not earned them, yes, that was the beauty of women. Beautiful in their sin, their wretched lives, and the pleasures they gave him as they sent his soul to hell.

But not Mercy. She was exquisite, magnificent, quite lovely in her innocence. Ah, yes, she was innocent. But he wasn't. He looked away as guilt seared his thoughts. And when he touched her- he tainted her. What would he do to her soul?

He looked back at her, expecting to see the angel she was, but instead he saw her differently- her eyes stared at him mournfully, in torment, her face so thin and sickly, her skin so pale. She had a gash on her cheek that had been....sewn up with thread, and she had scratches all over her face. Her neck had been severed- there was thread sewing that on to her shoulders, and blood trickled down. Her hair was black and filthy- she opened her mouth to curse him, damn him- he shut his eyes and waited for it-

"Tom!" she cried, and he looked back up at her. No scars, no blood, no thread. She no longer looked like a perverse marionette doll. Her blond hair hung down around her face, floating there- and her eyes were still filled with that melancholy sweetness, that innocence.

"Oh, Mercy," he whispered, his eyes still wide and fearful. There were tears in her eyes.

And then she was completely herself- well, as much herself as she ever was.

"Are you sure you're feeling all right?"

"I saw you-"he choked, and he suddenly felt as though his knees would break. He seized her arm suddenly.

"Tom," she murmured. She sat on the ground, and he sat beside her.

"You were- hideous," he gasped, and shut his eyes against the image. "You looked like a doll- a human doll-"

"Sshh," she whispered, "it will be all right." She kissed his eyelids again.

"No," he said, "don't do that, I need not your pity." He stood and began walking away, and she followed.

"Tom, about this afternoon," she started.

"What?"

"You're a bastard."

He spun around, shocked. "You said you were sorry."

"I know. But you're still a bastard." Her face was cold as stone. There was no mercy in those eyes. And those eyes did not belong to Mercy.

Terrible pun...but she's had a mood change again.

He sighed and they continued walking, al the way up to the tree they'd been at earlier.

"Brings back memories, ah?" he joked.

"Yeah...I've seen you sit under here writing in a diary," she commented.

He froze.

"Never would've guessed you, of all people, owned one. You're not using it as an outlet for Dark Magic, are you?"

She looked at him, amused, but all humour vanished when she saw his face.

"Are you, Tom?"

He couldn't answer.

"Tom, what are you going to do?"

"What makes you think I'd do anything?" he sputtered.

She didn't reply, she just sunk to her knees and looking out at the lake wistfully. He sat beside her and put his arm around her shoulder. She looked up at him, and he leaned down to kiss her.

"Stop," she whispered.

"I'd very much enjoy it," he said hotly in her ear.

She pulled away from him, her gaze cold.

"You, of all people, do not deserve enjoyment."

He kissed her eyelids shut and held her closely. "You deserve it."

She pulled away again, more harshly, and stared into his eyes mercilessly. She would dissect him then and there and leave him bleeding, and not care. Her mood had changed again.

"I'll be damned if I ever let you pleasure me, Tom."

That stung. He just looked at her, then grinned, and began groping her again.

"Let me assure you, I can show you heaven," he said, but she shoved him away.

"Your words are the sweetest poison, Riddle, but I am no fool. I am not Eve; I will not let the serpent seduce me."

He smiled at her silly little metaphor, as it would make things so much easier for him.

"Then you do not wish to taste the fruit of knowledge?"

He regretted it when he looked at her, though. Her eyes held a glassy and haunted appearance.

"I don't know what I want," she whispered restlessly.

"You're a Slytherin. What do you want more than anything in the world?"

"I want to retain my innocence, Tom."

He laughed.

But she was serious.

Very serious.

"What do you want?"

A silence.

Then, "I want power, Mercy. I want the power that should have been Slytherin's."

She looked at him closely. "Have you heard of the Chamber of Secrets?" she asked.

His heart skipped a beat, and he felt as though she had read his mind. Maybe she was a Legilimens.

He chose his words carefully when he eventually spoke:

"Can I tell you a secret?"

Muahahahaha!! cliffhanger of the worst sort! sorry...I tried to get it out of the melodrama area. And forgive my morbid fascination with marionette dolls.