"She'll come, she'll come or she'll be sorry," he thought to himself, loosening his tie, and placing his hands on his hips, he began to pace his small bedroom. Tom Riddle had just returned to the orphanage from his sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The school where he was known as the brilliant, and powerful Tom Riddle, where he learned potions, hexes, and spells. The school where he had gathered a following of admirers, his peers respected him, and the teachers doted upon him. Here, at the orphanage however, was a different story. Here, he was just a worthless little boy, a troublemaker that nobody wanted. Nobody here knew who Tom really was, or of the horrific things he had already achieved. No one except Mrs. Cole, the caretaker, and even she seemed in the dark about what Tom was really like. No, no one knew, and as far as the rest of the children were concerned, Tom was just shipped off to a special boarding school every year, one for the specially, highly academic.

He stopped to glance out the window, it was dark out, which meant it was getting late. He walks over to his bed, which he retires on, and looks at his clock. "Almost 11 o'clock," he mutters, throwing a dirty look at the door. He runs a strong hand, equipped with slender fingers through his thick, wavy, black hair. Releasing it, he is reminded of her. Her, a muggle, just as unsuspecting of him as the rest.

He begins to get annoyed; he'd told her to come now, why hadn't she listened. If she only knew who he was, what he could do to those who disobeyed. He's seated on the edge of his thin, shabby mattress, his hands once again in his hair, and his left leg shaking up and down violently. It was just as he arrived back when he noticed her. She was on dish duty and passed him in the hall. Her long, golden hair had fanned out behind her as it swayed when she walked. It gently framed her face as she stopped to look up at him. Smiling, she quietly whispered "hi". He curved his lips slightly – almost like a mere grin and nodded back. He stepped aside to let her pass, her dark eyes met his and he had a sudden lurching feeling in his stomach. A new feeling, annoyingly pleasant, it was something that was meant to be enjoyed. But he would never enjoy it; he would never intend to. He only set out to satisfy this beast held within, the beast that was this lurching.

He followed her into the kitchen. He followed her everywhere after that, obsessively for the entire day. He watched her, memorized every little detail that involved her. She enjoyed it of course, making every attempt to move oh so delicately, trying all her might to appear irresistible. Minor conversation was obtained, in exception for a few words when she asked him his name. "Tom", he replied. That was all that was said, he didn't inquire as to hers as that was not necessary. The hunter never asks about the prey, even something as so innocent as a name, before it attacks. This was what this was, a clever, well planned orchestrated attack. At lights out he followed her to her door. Just as she was about to enter he grabbed her wrists and whispered in her ear "come to my room, once they do the bed check, come and see me".

"I don't know, Tom." she replied,

"Come" he argued. "Come and see me. You know you want to so just come. If you don't like it you can always leave."

"Okay," she finally agreed, "I'll see you later then".

"Excellent"

He released her wrists and kissed her gently on the cheek. Parting, she responded with a slight giggle. Confused he gave a slight smirk and turned on his heel back to his room. He didn't understand why she laughed, was something funny? Surely it wasn't at him, nobody laughs at him – nobody that wanted to get away with it that is.

There was suddenly a light tap at the door. Tom looks up, and strides over to it. Upon opening it he saw her and immediately encloses his hand around her wrist, leading her inside.

He releases her and puts his free hand to her face, rubbing her cheek with the back of his index finger. She smiles and tilts her head towards it, softly clutching his other fore arm. He tucks a fallen tendril of the golden hair back behind her ear, and murmurs "Your beautiful".

She responds once again with a giggle. Angered and once again confused, he moves closer and places a hand on her hip, and the same stroking, index finger now moves under her chin, tilting her face upwards, facing his.

He cranes his neck downward and gently places his lips to hers. He kisses her, and she kisses back, His hands move to the small of her back, pulling her in tighter, as he slowly opens her mouth with his, releasing her tongue to hers. She puts her hands on his forearms and slowly moves them up to around his neck. His gentle kisses soon become rougher, and she pulls herself in even tighter as his arms clasp around her and his tongue scours her mouth. She starts to breathe heavily, taking in short, sharp intakes of breath. His hands are now rubbing her back; up to her neck they move, but then slowly, surely, back down to her hips. She touches his face, caressing and taking in his chiseled, handsome features, they move to his chest where she lightly fingers his tie, and eventually settle at the nape of his neck, twirling the dark hair around her fingers.

He releases her mouth, and moves to her jaw line and neck. She giggles once more arches for better access. He's puzzled; she seems finds this funny yet positions herself for better delivery. He puts his hands back on her hips and slowing creeps up under her shirt. Biting her lower lip, she continues to run her fingers through his hair and up his back, shivering underneath him from his touch. She clenches her eyes shut and allows one moan to escape her lips; she follows this with another slight giggle. He continues kissing her neck, working the triangular area in her collarbone, all the while wondering what she finds so amusing. "She'll regret it," he thinks about her laughing, "just like she'll regret being late".