A/N: OK I know it has been forever, but I'd kind of given up on this fic. That is, until I reread a bit of it and discovered, I really am fond of it So I suppose I'm going to finish it, regardless of what I may think. Lets not attack me with pitchforks shall we? Hahahaha! It people are still reading this, color me shocked.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, so lets not sue me.

Veela Hair is Hard to Come By

I needed somewhere to hang my head
Without your noose
You gave me something that I didn't have
But had no use
I was too weak to give in
Too strong to lose
My heart is under arrest again
But I break loose
My head is giving me life or death
But I can't choose
I swear I'll never give in
I refuse

–Foo Fighters

Voldemort had never been one for vanity. Beauty was useless, except of course on the occasion of deceiving someone. That was held for veelas and the occasional warlock, most of which had come into his control at the height of his power. For some reason, he'd grown a tolerance of veela after the age of fifteen. Though he was quite fond of them, the perplexity of their angelic faces gave him no sense of euphoria. He would treat them as he would treat any wizard.

However, he was always able to charm those he needed.

He needed her.

The woman in question also happened to be the hairstylist for the Hogwarts yearbook. Instead of Muggle schools, Hogwarts tended to have the photographs taken at the end of the year to show how they had grown. Tom had been asked for an extra shot for the Heads page. He'd groaned about it, never one for taking pictures. Actually, the only pictures he recalled of himself were the ones in the yearbooks. Each year he looked pale and gloomy, glaring at the viewer from his small frame.

Now, he was sitting in a straight backed chair, watching her tend to Abraxas Malfoy, an extremely annoying Slytherin a year his junior. Voldemort examined the man who had spawned one of his loyal followers. The resemblance was uncanny, as was the same with Lucius's useless son. Good lord, did they clone themselves? His thoughts wandered slowly to Dumbledore and Draco. That was a ghastly situation... He shook the unpleasantness out of his head and returned to watching Tom.

The pointed features and silver-blond hair had given out the rumor that Malfoys were related to veela. Abraxas, what a name, had encouraged this rumor and flirted with everything in a skirt. Tom suppressed a snicker at this preposterous idea while watching the boy gulp and sputter. Alas, veelas must even affect their own kind. How do they get anything done? His sarcastic demeanor was comforting, even if he was not.

"That's right... my you have beautiful hair, Mr. Malfoy." she purred, flicking her own perfect locks that were quite similar to his.

"T-t-t-thank y-y-you." Abraxas had managed to choke out, flushing wildly. Voldemort mused it was the reddest he'd ever seen a Malfoy's face.

She finished languidly, letting her hands billow upon his head. Soon he was finished, and he stood shakily, stumbling over to the next room where flashbulbs were going off. She winked, and he resolutely collapsed. Jumping to his feet, he rushed out of the room, embarrassment etched all over his pale face.

Voldemort was laughing hysterically. A high-pitched laugh that many only heard out of the pain of others.

Tom was biting back the snickers that threatened to overcome him. He was the only student left in the room. He watched her slowly waltz to him, smiling majestically.

She was gorgeous, no doubt about that. Long, thick, impossibly silky blond hair, and large blue orbs mesmerized at him. She was probably only in her early twenties, and by the look of it, enjoying life. The perfection of beauty stood in front of him, like the tart she was, yet he was not phased. He knew the task at hand. Returning a casual smile, he stared at her over his long fingers, beckoning her nearer.

"I suppose you're Tom Riddle?" she inquired, fluttering her eyelashes wildly. Tom resisted the urge to sigh.

"Yes." he replied. He gave no inclination of adding anything.

She looked momentarily confused. Surely he hadn't been the only boy not to dissolve in emotions at the sight of her? She was only half! Apparently that was enough.

"You're the special one," she grinned, plucking a comb from her pocket. "The genius."

"I suppose." he answered. Why contradict her?

"I wasn't aware you were so handsome." she giggled playfully.

Tom vaguely remembered Di laughing at him. Never giggling.

"Oh, I wish all the girls in our school could see that look!"

Was that what she had meant? She was not the type of girl to come out and say so. That's what he had hated about her. Her compulsive lying. He was growing to hate her more dead then alive.

He was unsure of how to respond, so he merely shrugged.

She tried another tactic. "Have you got a girlfriend?"

Tom smirked at shook his head.

She gave a surprised gasp, that was almost as fake as the smile on her face. "You? Well that's a shock!"

Tom laughed obediently. If he was going to get what he wanted, he might as well start being polite.

"So what's your name?" he said conversationally, keeping still while she whirled her wand around his head. His neck felt unpleasantly wet.

"Mirabelle." she replied happily.

"Ah, of wondrous beauty." he smiled. He'd always been fond of names. It was obviously picked for its meaning.

She beamed. "I have to say, I'm no short of shocked that you are not drawn to me."

"Oh I wouldn't say that," he toyed, smiling seductively. This is worth it, he convinced himself.

Mirabelle had the obvious expression of interest. She returned the smile, responding snidely. "Yes, but not in the ways that the other boys are... you are not even a boy."

"I assure you. I am male." Tom sneered.

"You are a man. How old are you?" she patted his hair sweetly, letting her scent flow into his nostrils and down his back.

"Eighteen."

"You seem older."

"I get that." he said truthfully. Saying he was mature for his age was the understatement of the century.

"I'm twenty-one, not much older then you." she simpered. He'd caught a prime condition girl for the product. Sure, she was only half veela, but it would due. Apparently aloofness and seemingly disinterest was the way to win a woman's heart. Tom smirked at the thought, watching her flirt like an extremely beautiful streetwalker.

Of course veela were sexual creatures, but this was getting ridiculous.

She leaned forward to check his bangs, moving her face unnaturally close to his, still working her magical charm furiously. She seemed abashed that he didn't respond like an average man, but merely smiled blankly. He touched her hand softly. She froze.

"You are special, aren't you?" she whispered, her large eyes with a look of sudden fear, but curiosity.

"You have no idea." he said softly, pulling her gently closer to his face, feeling his stomach squirm.

It wasn't until she had closed her eyes and they had been inches away from each other did he go in for the kill. His mind clicked, and he heard his inner thoughts screaming, "NOW!" He simultaneously snatched the back of her head roughly, while swiftly plunging for his wand.

"SILENCIO!" he hissed, as she opened her mouth to shriek. Silent screams were emitting from her pretty mouth, as he quickly obtained her wand. This was quite a feat as she thrashed around horridly. He knew he must be quick, for any minute she could summon her powers under enough stress.

Drat, I should have though about that before.

Though he wouldn't admit to himself til much later, he had some sort of sick enjoyment as he held her hysteric body. He felt the power surging in his veins. Pulling hard on a patch of hair, he finally ripped it out. He had planned to use a simple spell to pull them painlessly, but the look of horror on her face brought immense pleasure to his soul. She was crying, either in pain or fear, he wasn't sure.

"Now stop moving so I can curse you dear." that didn't seem to help at all. On the contrary, she had gone practically insane, desperately pushing him away. Curious...

"Stupefy." he held her as she went limp in his arms. She was weedy in body, he noticed in disgust. Not a muscle on her, though she was shapely in the parts that mattered to most men. He stuffed the hair in the pocket of his robes, and lay her down softly on the ground. "Obliviate." he muttered, and quickly patted his hair. "Ennervate."

She opened her glazed eyes slowly, glancing around in wonder. She blinked hard at him, and Tom immediately feigned a look of bewilderment and worry.

"My dear, are you quite all right?" he moved to help her up, praying she didn't remember him.

She continued to stare at him and mumbled in amazement, "W-what happened?"

Tom sighed in relief. So the memory charm had worked splendidly. "Well, you were perfectly fine... and then you fainted..." he said bluntly, praying the lie was enough.

She stumbled to her feet and began rubbing her head gingerly. "My head hurts and awful lot..." she said airily, with the bewilderment of one whose mind had been befuddled.

"Perhaps you should go to the infirmary." Tom muttered, wondering if Abraxas Malfoy was finished yet. Of course the vain, pompous git would want the best picture of him possible.

"Yes, yes..." she said absently, gliding out of the room. "I think I shall."

Brilliant.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle?" a gruff voice called from inside the room where Malfoy had vanished minutes before. He smiled to himself before standing at going into the room. It hadn't been a waste of a day.

Tom could have sang. He soared down the hall, his Head Boy badge gleaming on his chest. It was time to do patrols, which meant it was time to check on his beloved potion. It should be done tonight, the veela hair was the last remaining ingredient. He was feeling euphoric, the first time in a long time.

He bounded down the steps and sneakily creaked the door open. Inside however, there was something that made his heart stop.

"Mr. Riddle," Dumbledore said with an expression of utmost fury, holding a ladle over the cauldron. "Sit down."

Rusty? Hahah just a little. Review please!

Love you all!

Pooks