(A/N: This idea just came to me while I was actually brainstorming for a different fic - in a completely different ficdom. Tamora Pierce, to be exact. No idea how it happened, but the idea grew on me, so here it is. Enjoy!)
Dreams
In a small orphanage, in the middle of London, more than fifty years before he would kill two of the greatest magical people alive, only to be defeated by their child, a five year old boy sleeps, and dreams.
His dreams are scary, to him. They are filled with shouts, and fear, and the feeling that he is enjoying it all - not the little boy, but the man that he dreams he will become.
"Lily, take Harry and run!"
"James -"
"Go! I'll hold him off!"
"Be careful, James!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
A flash of green light, more shouts, more fear...
"Please, not Harry...kill me, take me instead, just please, not Harry -"
"Move aside, foolish girl."
What scares him, more than the screams and begging and the fear that is always there, what scares him the most is that cold, high voice, the voice that is filled with malice and the sense of something that has defied its nature. And what scares him even more than the voice is the fact that it is his voice, that he is the one who has become evil and cruel and terrible, so far from the five year old who lay shivering in his bed, willing the nightmares to go away -
"Please, not Harry - please..."
"Avada Kedavra!"
A flash of green light, the thud of a body hitting the ground, the sound of a baby wailing, crying for the mother that would never hold him in her arms again, the mother that would never sing him another lullaby, never do any of a million little things -
"Tom Riddle, you get up out of bed this instant!"
Tom woke immediately, the cries of the baby still in his ears, only now he recognized them as his own.
"What are you screaming about, boy?"
Tom quieted, reminding himself that he was in the boys' dorm at the orphanage, not at the destroyed house with the dead father and mother and the crying baby. He glanced up and saw Matron standing in the doorway, hands on hips, glaring at him. "Nightmare, ma'am," he mumbled, sliding out of bed.
"Well, there's a new boy at the orphanage, everyone else is already down in the entrance hall. Get dressed quickly, and don't do anything strange, I don't want you corrupting this boy. And for heaven's sake, would you at least try to smile?"
With that, Matron turned around sharply and left. Tom rummaged through his trunk, looking for the least shabby outfit that he had. He never meant to do anything "strange," as Matron put it. Things just happened naturally for him, but he had learned that when he made things float, or disappear, or when he talked to snakes, the other children looked at him funny and called him a freak. Even Matron acted differently around him than the other boys. She said it was because he never smiled, and little boys like him were supposed to smile.
But how could smile when all the other boys hated him and avoided him, or picked on him and gave him bruises? To smile, you had to be happy about something, or at least have a memory of being happy. Tom had never been truly happy, not that he could remember. He had been content, yes, on the days where the food hadn't been too terrible, and the older boys had been too lazy to beat on him, but he couldn't recall a time when he had been really, truly happy.
As Tom dressed, he vowed that he would try his best to be nice to this new boy, and not do anything "strange." Maybe they could be friends.
Tom almost smiled at that thought. He'd never had a friend. All the other boys at the orphanage were scared of him, of the freak. But maybe if he managed to act normal around the new boy, he wouldn't make fun of him, and maybe, just maybe, Tom could finally have a friend.
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Later
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Tom huddled in the closest, sniffling. All he had done was introduce the new boy, Derek, to his pet snake. Derek had even held her, and Tom thought for one joyous moment that he had finally made a friend. Then his snake had asked what the boy's name was, and he told her - but he forgot that he wasn't supposed to speak to snakes in front of Derek. The boy had run away, and now Tom was hiding in the closet, desperately hoping that the group of bullies, now including Derek, wouldn't find him.
It isn't fair, thought Tom fiercely, though he didn't make any noise, in case the other boys would hear. He hadn't done anything except try to make friends, and now they hated him even more. All he had ever wanted was a friend, someone who loved him and would stay by him, who wouldn't cared if he could make things move without touching them or understand what snakes said. If he had a friend, maybe the bullies wouldn't pick on him any more, maybe he wouldn't feel so lonely and empty inside, maybe he would finally be completely, truly happy.
And maybe if he had a friend, just one true friend, maybe the dreams would go away.
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(A/N: Hooray for angsty-ness:-) huggles to everyone I love writing about Tom. He is quite possibly the winner of the Angsty-est Character Ever in the History of Angsty-ness award. Because, think about it - his father left his mother, his mother wouldn't even stay alive for him, he grew up in an orphanage, he was teased and picked on...come on, it practically oozes angst. The only other character that even comes close is Harry, but I haven't written an angst-filled one shot for him yet...hm, maybe I should... runs off to brainstorm ideas for tragic angsty heart wrenching tear filled BYOT one shot for Harry, and to grab some pasta for lunch while she's doing that
Oh, and don't forget to review! They are the only things that keep me alive! Apart from my delicious pasta, that is.)