AN - November 24th, 2005: YEAH REVIEWS! ( cheers so spazztastically that the nearby neightbors look up from their yardwork and go all, o.O ) Oh yeah, the fourth chapter has come out because I'm extremely bored at this time, and I want to continue this for the sake of my wonderful friends who have bothered to review on this story and wow is this sentence long. I have to give thanks to everyone that's bothered to review - j00 guys are liek teh best in the world! I am sorry if I forget anyone when I give my thankies in the chapter ; I'm usually not online when I'm typing it up, so yeah. Wheeeheheh. I love you guys. POISONOUS ONE YOU NEED TO TALK TO ME. I'm lonely. XD

404: It's one of the best portrayals? YES! That means I'm doing good. ( scoring dance omfgtouchdown! ) THANK YOU!

The Lady of the Light: Look, look, I put THE! Heheh.

Queen of the Badgers: Rawwwwwwrrrrr YES! Your awesome. Let's go reviewers who are awesome, let's go! ( gives you a random latte and then runs off to go finish the chapter since people are probably not reading this but that's really okay )

Only For You
By: Kifujin no STRAWBERRY

Chapter Four
'I have a secret...'

If there was one thing that she could say about Hogwarts that was actually a good statement, that one statement was that Hogwarts had really, really, good food.

Well, at least she thought so.

But, after you have had more than your share of food - which included mashed potatoes, pudding, beef, carrots, and corn all in the same meal ; she was rather hungry, you know - the Hall did get rather tiring, with all the noise, small children being hurled through the air kudos to Crabbe and Goyle tossing a 1st Year back and forth while he squealed, and food. Christine rose to her feet, stepping backwards away from the bench she sat at, shifting her weight and making a mental note to never eat so much in one sitting again. Uuuggghhh. Her stomach felt like it really was ready to spontaniously combust, or explode, or do something. Suppressing a soft noise of surprise at the feeling she got in her abdomen as she stood, the dark-haired 6th Year turned on her heel - only to be promptly collided with, for no apparent reason at all.

Her 'collider' was a red-headed girl who was at least a head taller than her and in the same House, by the Slytherin crest emblazoned on the left of her robes. Aha. Elisabeth Calavert, the older sister of the child who had been Sorted into Gryffindor and definately not one of Christine's favorite people in the world to just randomly collide with. She did have a mind to apologize to Ms. Calavert, had she not opened her mouth.

"Get out of my way," Elisabeth said disdainfully, shoving her backwards a bit. "Halfblood."

This statement...cracked Ms. Christine McCallion's stoic mask.

There were two things in this world she hated more than anything else that could possibly be hated ( such as whiny little brothers and idiotic perverted people who like to sit next to you on the train and feel you up for pocket money ). The first thing was a certain someone. The second thing? Being called halfblood. It brought such a look of fury onto the pale girl's face, and the grey eyes glinted like cold ice, darkening around the edges. Elisabeth had pressed all of her buttons at once in a malfunction, and she knew that the word that she had just used had caused it. A self-satisfied smile appeared on the taller girl's face, and she continued.

"I don't even know how you got into Slytherin, Chrissy-Chris," She mocked an earlier nickname Narcissa had called her...and Christine, physically, bristled. If she had had hackles, they would have been raised. "After all, only the purest of blood is allowed in the great House of Serpents, don't you agree? Your blood is tainted with an idiot Muggle's...how laughable!"

And Elisabeth demonstrated just how incredibly laughable it was by laughing in Christine's face.

Christine's cheeks pinkened.

"Oh, are we getting cross, are we?" Elisabeth had the nerve to reach out and pinch one of the darkening cheeks, though Christine stood rooted to the spot, cold eyes fixated on the girl in front of her. "Does Mummy need to drive her Mugglemobile to pick up Ickle Chrissykins?"

Christine simply stared at her. Elisabeth laughed and then patted her, hard, on the cheek.

"Don't let that temper run out on you now." The red-headed girl turned, robes swirling with her, and then walked back to the side of table she had been sitting on, cleaning up after herself.

Oh, how dearly Christine had wished she would have tripped.

She stood there, unsmiling, before turning, and starting out of the Hall. Elisabeth Calavert would have hers coming...she was sure of it. How was she so sure, do you ask? Ms. Christine was not your average idiot savant, oh no. The narrow, intelligent grey eyes told you so - she was much more capable of stringing two words together in a sentence that probably would end up as a misunderstanding after said to whomever it had been directed toward. All she needed to do was wait for Elisabeth to round the corner and--

"What the--!"

"Stay still so I can hex you!"

"G...GAHHHHH! HELLLPPPP!"

And Elisabeth was off like a shot, a red streak running through the halls, up towards the Common Room. Tom would help her - yes, he was the Prefect, he could restrain the halfblood beast! Christine trailed not even a foot behind, in hot pursuit, black and green robes billowing behind her as she swerved and avoided 1st Years, keeping close to Elisabeth, blood pounding in her ears. She'd show her halfblood! Oh, god, she'd make her suffer as if she'd never suffered anything before! Elsabeth skidded around a corner, uttered a yelping cry, and then nearly hit the wall in her hurried attempt to get into the Common Room while closing the door behind her. It didn't work. Christine reached out and snatched a fistful of her robes, spinning her around with a snarl, right fist raised.

"Now now, what is this?" A voice asked sharply, and she turned to see Tom Riddle walking toward them quickly, a shadow. "Christine?"

Avery had backed into his chair and nearly fell over, while Antonin Dolohov had come into the room with his sister, who had not gone with the rest of the 1st Years. Antonin smirked. Tom caught Christine's wrist in hand, attempting to pacify the raging girl, pulling her slightly away so that she released Elisabeth's robes. Elisabeth's wrist had also been caught to keep her from fleeing. He would have no drawbacks.

"I think we should settle down here before someone is hurt. Now, I'd like either one of you to explain to me what the problem is. Which one will go first? One at a time. Please." He paused, lowering his eyes to Christine's face. It was etched with fury, pale mask discarded. What emotion. The dark eyes lingered for one more second, before turning to Elisabeth quickly. "Come now. How can we solve this?"

"We can cut off her head and feed it to the wolves, that's what we can do." Christine said, and even though she was shaking with rage, the voice was deadly soft - very cold.

"Try it!" Elisabeth shot back angrily, and in unison both girls tugged at their arms. Tom's eyes only narrowed, and he kept them both in place, pale fingers tightening around their wrists. "Your family ARE the blood traitors! A pureblood conceiving a child with a filthy Mudblood! It's UNHEARD OF! And now you stand here...tainted...looking like the very Mudblood that you spawned from. I'm surprised you haven't morphed into one of those muggle folk who watch that electrical box..."

Christine's skin was suddenly, suddenly very cold, locked in his digits. She had straightened up to the point where she was at her full height, and from what Tom could see, apparently looked pissed off as hell. Teeth were gritted behind pale lips, gray eyes were widening even as he watched her facial expression. And quite by surprise, Christine made a movement.

She ripped her arm out of his grip, pulling it out with a violent jerk, spinning and plunging her hand into her robes. The glint of a wand, now pointing directly at Elisabeth's pitiful, pounding heart. Birch, 13 and a half inches, dragon heartstring - very ready to jinx this girl.

"Say that to my face!" Christine hissed.

Wait...hissed?

Tom stood...completely frozen.

She was speaking parseltongue.

Dark eyes blinked for a slight moment, stupified, and even the expression on his face dropped from the usual calm mask to one of utter confusion, mingled with a little bit of amazement. The expression consisted of his jaw hanging open, eyes widening, and a couple stupid blinks thrown in there.

"Parseltongue." His whispered in surprise after composing himself. It was then, right there, that Tom Riddle finally decided.

Christine McCallion would be one amongst his ranks, and if she refused or fought back, she'd die.

Simple as that.

"Christine. Lower your wand. The last thing we want right now is to have you expelled on your first day back. I know you are angry with her, but your anger could cause you to seriously hurt her," Not like he would mind, but-- "For me, please lower your wand."

He could not lose her to the laws of the school now if he had only just decided that she was to be one of his pawns! Tom rested his eyes on her face - she seemed to be fighting with herself over whether or not she was just going to jinx this girl with the most powerful spell she knew or putting down her wand and calming down. A small frown was forming on her face and her forehead creased slightly, before slowly, reluctantly, she lowered her wand. Even though that was so...the eyes, incredibly cold, stayed very much focused on Elisabeth. Slowly, deliberately, the red-headed girl tugged her wrist out of Tom's hand and darted up into the girl's Common Room, black robes billowing behind her.

Christine's fist clenched as she echoed a hollow breath and attempted to calm herself down. Her mind swarmed with rage, spiteful words and thoughts filled with violent intents... Her thoughts were focused, irrepressibly, on pain, causing pain to the one who had invoked her rage...though quickly, some sort of other feeling flooded into her mind, wiping away the thoughts quickly. Her face quickly assumed some sort of...stoic mask, a mask she hide behind when she didn't want to show her emotions, and often, it wasn't easy to pry that mask off. No. A quick shake of her head, and the gray eyes opened. ...I was lucky that he was here. I could have seriously...hurt her...

Or done worse.

"We must control our anger when we are insulted least we commit an act we'll regret. That young girl isn't worth you being expelled, Christine. That's what she wants, you realize. She'd love to see you expelled and shamed. When you become angry you lose control and it makes it ever so easy for her to goad you into striking out at her. That is the way childish, feeble minds work. Rise above her and her insults and simply ignore it," Tom said softly, his voice intoning on specific words, trying to at least get through to her. Christine's eyes darted and rested on him for a moment. "Avery. Give the lady your seat by the fire. It's cold here in the common room ; it always is, even in the dead of summer and early fall."

Avery rose and hurried off in a not so specific direction, grunting something at Antonin, who followed him up into the Boys' Dormitory to discuss the recent happenings. Tom followed them with the dark hues for a moment, and then took Christine's hand, leading her to the seat - the highback leather chair situated closest to the fire, sitting her down as if he was the one who really owned her body and she had no idea what she was doing. He seated himself across from her, leaning head back in the chair and studying her with satisfaction. Her knuckles had whitened to the point in which they looked like bone where they clutched at the chair arms and her face was still pale and angry. He could see, behind the gray eyes, she was trying to calm herself down...and slowly, it was working. Very slowly.

Tom decided to add to that factor, his voice soft and soothing.

"Do you realize what you just did?" He asked kindly, a small smile twisting the corners of his mouth. "You spoke Parseltongue. Not many are blessed with such a gift. How long have you been able to speak it?"

"P...Parseltongue..." She muttered, head lowering, her body sinking into the chair in defeat. Tom followed the movement with an approving look. "When I was...smaller...my father can speak it...so I guess that's where I...got it from..."

"I understand if you don't wish to speak of it now. You're trembling and you're still very angry. It's difficult, I know, being a half-blood myself. Witch mother, Muggle father." Tom intoned gently, and her head rose, eyes widening. "I haven't spoken of this to many, save two, and you're the third I've revealed it to. Does it surprise you? I wonder what your brave attacker would have to say if she knew?"

"...My mother...she is the muggle, while my father is the pureblood...I...didn't realize that you were even half-blood, I thought you were a pureblood, just by the way that you were acting..." Christine looked at him for a moment, before glancing off into the fire. "I'm not going to tell anyone...your blood purity isn't any of their business..."

"No. I'm a half-blood. When my father found out my mother was a witch he left her. My father didn't like magic." The dark eyes crackled with anger for a second. "She had no home; she was with child and living on the streets. She gave birth to me at an orphanage and there she died, or so Miss Cole has told me. I never knew her. Ah, but I have seen her face in my mind and it is a jewel to me, Christine. I have seen her and I'll never forget her. I've lived in the orphanage all my life. I yearn for the day when I'm of age and able to leave the place," He looked at her intently at her words of his blood, "I thank you. I'd rather keep my bloodline a secret. It would make life difficult for me and at this time I'd rather that not happen."

His slaves wouldn't take him seriously if they knew what he was ; that was the reason why. It was simple, and yet so demanding, that she not tell anyone. He would bind her to that word ; that she would never tell anyone of the spoils of his blood, of how disgusted he was with his father for leaving a woman he didn't know... He reached out and took her hand, and almost jerked back away from it in surprise. The digits were icy cold, pale, and so very small in his hands. It was strange, her size compared to his. He offered a soft squeeze of her palm and her gray eyes drew down to where their hands lay.

"I have a secret I must confide you in. I can't tell you now but I will tell you in the future. I wonder: Will you keep it? Trust in me as I've trusted in you? I need you, Christine. I need your friendship now more then ever. I'm alone and I need it, more then you can realize. I'm lonely and I feel as thought no one can understand my position. But you, perhaps you could. We are alike in many ways." The handsome, youthful face was contorted with an expression of sadness. Sadness? He was never sad ; no, always angry. It was all an act.

Christine only gazed at him for a small moment, before looking away. Tom had a strange sinking feeling in his chest...was he all ready losing the battle for her loyalty?

Finally, after debated moments, the girl replied, "If you need me, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere anytime soon, anyways. All you'll need to do is reach."

"Thank you, Christine I assure you, I will need it. Always, Christine Whenever I need you, you'll be there? You'll give me your hand? I'll give you mine. Should you ever need me, all you need do is ask for my help. You've been kind to me and though we haven't spoken much before now, I truly feel as though we have been friends for a long time. Haha. I hope I'm not scaring you right now. I just say what I feel with no thought to what the other might think of me. Perhaps, this is my downfall? I'll tell you the truth right now: On the train, there were plenty of empty compartments I could've chosen for myself but I wanted to stay with you. Last year I wanted to talk to you, get to know you better, but I was too much of a coward." That was a huge lie.

He had no intention of getting to know her. He only wanted her on his sideall he wanted was her soul and her undying devotion. That was it. He cared for no one. Christine's eyes flickered briefly for a moment, and he fancied it had just been a trick of the flames that she sat so close to, but...it seemed to not be so. Her eyes had indeed moved like the fire...what was it? What was it that caused that fire to move within her? A sudden anger, a memory of something? What?

"Though I doubt that you, Tom Riddle," She treaded carefully about the subject. "A great wizard all ready, a brilliant student, would like to get to know me, Christine McCallion, a simple half-blooded witch with a short temper and an even shorter amount of patience. I would give you my trust if you could earn it. You see...I have been betrayed by many...I am not one to trust so easily. There have been people who have...lied to my face in search of my loyalty, then turned and spit upon it. I'm sure...you must understand...how that feels like?"

She seemed to place emphasis on the word lie ; and immediately, Mr. Riddle knew that she knew he'd lied about everything that he'd just sad. But...how did she know? Had he not always been kind - albeit fakely - to everyone that he had met? Was it so strange for him, Tom Riddle, to want to get to know her? Anyone who understood the finer points of exploring the inner psyche of a simple human - though now he wasn't so sure she was that simple anymore - was that all he had to do was look into her eyes, and all her emotions would be open to him like a book. But why could he not decipher what her eyes said to him now? It was so strange, sitting there and gazing into her eyes, trying to unravel the mystery that was her, and not being able to find anything. Not a single thing.

"You flatter me." He responded in that soft, smooth voice, so capable of convincing those to be his servants - promises of a new world. " Hmmm...I understand. If we are to be friends then I must earn your trust. I will accept that challenge. And being betrayed...actually, that has never happened to me. I suppose I'm lucky it hasn't. Tell me moreabout yourself, Ms. McCallion. If you don't mind doing this. I fear I don't have much to say about myself. Of course if you have any questions, I'd be more then happy to answer them. I have all the time in the world."

Did he really happen to look that angry, so able of being untrusted to her strange oculars? No. But he was far too perfect in word and action. Frigid, perfectly calm, it was as if he didn't think or feel. He could sit there all night and smile fakely at her, make her fall in love with him - put her through so much that when it came to the time when he would rise in power she would throw herself at his feet and be his constant dog. Yes...this was what he planned. Christine McCallion would be his slave ; throughout time, throughout the eternity that he promised to himself he would live. There would be no other substitute for this slave - she was the ultimate prize in a vending machine and he had so cleverly worked his pale fingers around her...

And if...

If someone could just warm his heart for a moment...

Perhaps he might have a chance.

So, Tom Riddle, pale and handsome, sat back in his chair and stared calmly at her, an unwavering smile on his face, and waited for her to begin.

AN: My muse was on vacation. Me sick for like fifteen thousand days. In fact, I'm still sick as I sit here typing in this AN for your reading pleasure.

Tom: And that's why it's two weeks after the date you promised yourself you'd submit this chapter on.

Me: ...It's not my fault my math teacher and my stupid stomach were being stupid.

Tom: It's just because you don't pay attention half the time.

Me: You lie! ( rant )

Voldemort: ( comes out from bathroom in a robe holding a coffee cup that says, 'whose your voldy? WHOSE YOUR VOLDY?' ) That chapter was splendid.

Me: Eeee you complimented me!

Voldemort: You didn't let me finish my sentence...

Tom: Shut up, it keeps her happy. Now...lemme find that whistle...

( magical whistle pops out of no where because it's liek, o mi gawd magickal! )

Tom: ( blows into it )

Me: ( shrieks and then runs and hides under couch )

Voldemort: ( turns toward you people ) It's like one of those dog whistles. Except it's for the rabid 'I'm-a-dark-wizard' followers who are too close. So if you get too close to me, rabid fan girl who is going to comment and favorite this story or I'll send you to the next dimension where you will meet your ancestors and have a horrible time in the afterlife while I laugh maniacally over your corpse, I - meaning my past self, of course - shall blow this whistle and your ear drums will explode.

Tom: We're good. ( highfives future self )