Into Your Gravity
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Finding Solace

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, I would have written in many more Tom scenes. You know. Because he's um. Interesting. And junk.

A/N: So the quote accompanying this chapter is a humorous quote, but it fits in this situation as well, doesn't it?

And that's all I'm going to say. I'm absolutely not going to mention how it's been almost a year since I updated this and how much I fail as an author.

If you've a) forgotten about this story or b) remember it vaguely but forgot what has happened lately, here's a quick recap: Luna got captured in Hogsmeade and now she's Voldy's lil' prisoner, and he invited her to dinner Beauty and the Beast-style, and that's where this craptastic chapter picks up.

This is one of those kind of sexy chapters, and I hope y'all dig it. The reason this story sort of died was because I felt like nothing was happening and I didn't know how to make it move. So if all of this seems all-of-a-sudden, that's because I kind of gave this the story-version of coke and hoped it would go. It did. Hope you all enjoy.

"Women give us solace, but if it were not for women we should never need solace."
--Don Herold

"Well, that's interesting," Luna said mildly, after standing for a moment frozen in the doorway. She was staring at the young man seated at the table. A young man who looked not a day over seventeen, with dark hair, an aristocratic nose, a strong jaw line, and slightly hollowed cheeks. And red eyes.

A slow smile, one she did not trust, spread on his face. "It's rather simple magic, really," he responded. "To reflect your memories of me back at you. To appear as you remember me. I've done much more impressive things in my time, as I'm sure you know." He gestured to the chair at the opposite end of the table from him, expecting her to sit.

Luna felt herself moving forward towards the chair, but her eyes were fixed on his face. A face she had never expected to see again. She seated herself quietly. After a moment she asked, "What's the point of it?"

That sickening smile grew wider, but he said nothing.

She could feel her nose crinkling in displeasure but quickly forced it to stop. If he wasn't going to give anything away, she wouldn't either. She made herself look away from his handsome face and calmly reached out and began to fill her plate with food. She was finding it difficult to stop herself from going and touching him. As she raised her goblet to her lips she realized her hand was shaking, so she quickly put the goblet down again.

"Look at me."

Her eyes snapped up to his face before she thought about it. As she looked again, she felt as if something cold had clamped down on her heart, but she kept her face carefully blank.

"Is this really what you remember me as?" he asked, peering at his reflection in his own silver goblet, seeming to inspect his face.

"I recall blue eyes," she replied simply.

The eyes in question shifted to gaze at her face, one corner of his mouth curling into a smirk. "Indeed."

When he kept staring at her as if he expected her to say something, she swallowed audibly. "You know, just because you look like Tom Riddle doesn't mean that's who you are. You left him behind a long time ago," she said slowly and clearly.

He chuckled and Luna felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. He looked back at himself in the goblet. "I can see why. I did look so...human. Much less menacing, I must say."

Luna said nothing, though she wondered in some part of her mind if her food was getting cold. She then realized she wasn't very hungry.

Setting the goblet down, his eyes returned to her. "And yet I dare say you found me handsome."

Aware he was mocking her, she merely held his gaze, which took nearly all of her willpower. She noticed his jaw tighten ever so slightly, and she mused that he was no longer accustomed to people making eye contact with him. She made a conscious effort not to blink.

"Eat," he ordered finally.

"I'm not very hungry," she replied honestly.

Tom – no, Voldemort, she mentally corrected herself – raised one eyebrow at her. "Eat," he repeated.

Luna looked down at her plate. Even her favorite foods didn't look appetizing. But she forced herself to pick up a piece of bacon and take a bite out of it. She chewed slowly, not tasting the food. She swallowed. She forced herself to take another bite. Chew. Swallow. Bite. Chew. Swallow.

At some point, he began to eat as well, though she could feel his eyes on her at all times. When she took a sip of her juice, she glanced up at him over the rim of her goblet and immediately wished she hadn't. She couldn't believe how painful it was to see his face. Setting her goblet down, she again asked, "What's the point? To hurt me?"

He smiled wickedly again, and admonished, "I'm going to be the one asking questions."

"Have I ever answered your questions?" she chided quietly.

"No. But you will." His smile widened, revealing perfectly straight, white teeth. Luna looked down at her plate. Anywhere but his face. He continued, "You must know that dear Bella would be happy to carry out any punishment deemed necessary, even if I am...unable to."

"I'm certain she would," Luna replied matter-of-factly. "Are you glad you found a way around your promise not to harm me?"

"Very little pleases me," he answered in a way that made her wonder if he'd really meant to say it out loud.

"I feel sad for you then," she said. "More than anything, I feel sad for you."

Tom's jaw tightened again. "Perhaps you should be sad for yourself," he suggested. "You, after all, are the one who finds yourself captive and powerless."

Her huge gray eyes flicked up to meet his gaze as she said, "Oh, I don't think anyone is ever powerless."

He paused, studying her, finding himself suddenly stranded in her gaze. "That's the kind of thought I should expect from you," he said after a moment.

Standing suddenly, he crossed over to her quickly, his long legs carrying him the length of the table in only a few strides. He reached long fingers out and grasped the stone that hung around her neck, inspecting it. It glowed as red and warm as ever.

Finding the face she had so missed so close proved nearly irresistible to Luna. She stood from her chair as well. Her right hand rose of it's own volition towards his face, and she only managed to stop herself a few inches away. Her hand hung in the air awkwardly, visible proof of how she still longed for her own Tom back.

Tom watched her reaction to his proximity with triumphant glee. "Luna, you are more powerless than you know," he murmured to her in a deep voice filled with dark seduction. He dropped the necklace and wrapped his fingers around the wrist of her hovering hand, then brought it to his mouth. He kissed the tip of her index finger gently. Luna's stomach turned almost violently, but she was – to use his word – powerless to stop him.

Then he dropped her hand, as though discarding her, and turned on his heel and left the room.

Several days passed before she saw him again. She had been taken back to her room after the dinner and had not left since. Meals were brought to her regularly, but beyond that she had little idea of how much time passed. At some point, she'd heard shouting and commotion out in the halls beyond her door, disturbing the usual quiet of the place, but that died down eventually. Shortly after that, she was beginning to wonder if she would ever see the outside of her cell again and had begun refusing food when the door to her room swung open. A masked death eater stood there.

"The Dark Lord wishes to see you," he said in clipped tones.

Luna rose quickly, sensing that something was wrong. Her head swam, and she teetered momentarily before regaining her balance. The death eater grabbed her arm and towed her along without another word. Halfway to their destination, Luna noticed that her guard was walking with a limp.

"Are you all right?" she asked sincerely.

The death eater's face turned towards her, though she couldn't see his face behind his mask. He took a moment before answering. "I'm fine."

"Have you injured your leg?" she pressed.

"No, one of the Weasley brats injured my leg, thank you very much."

Luna's heart leapt suddenly. "Which Weasley? What happened?"

"Jugson, that's enough," came a sharp female voice.

Luna and Jugson both looked up to see Bellatrix Lestrange in the corridor in front of them.

"I'll have to inform the Dark Lord that you were giving the prisoner information," Bellatrix said coldly.

"I haven't got time for this just now, Lestrange, I'm on an errand," Jugson replied, his dislike for the woman apparent, though his fear was as well.

"What would that be?" Bellatrix demanded.

"Bringing this one to the Dark Lord," Jugson said, gesturing to Luna.

"And what for?"

"As if it's any of your damn business, woman. Now out of my way, or I'll have to inform the Dark Lord that it was you delaying me in bringing this little one to him."

Bellatrix hovered for a moment indecisively before glaring and continuing on her way, brushing forcefully past Luna.

Luna and Jugson finally stopped in front of the now-familiar door. The door swung open immediately.

"Leave her, and get out," came Tom's voice from within, though the room was dark except for the fire burning in the grate as usual.

Jugson did as he was told, and the door slammed shut behind him, leaving Luna alone in the room with Tom, whose back was to her as he gazed into the fire. As soon as the door shut, Tom strode away from the fire through a side door into another room.

"Come here," he said, not bothering to look at her over his shoulder. She had not seen his face, but she still had the feeling that something had happened and that something was wrong.

She followed him into the other room, which she found was better lit and apparently his personal chambers. A large four-poster bed dominated the room, entirely decked out in a deep emerald green. Tom had perched himself on the foot of the bed, leaning forward with elbows on his knees.

His brows were drawn together over stormy eyes. Even his usually immaculate hair was mussed. And he was staring at her in the doorway as if she were prey.

"What's happened?" she asked, suddenly fearful.

"Come here," he repeated instead of answering.

"What's wrong?" she questioned him again, but found herself moving forward shakily. "Something's happened, hasn't it? I can feel it." She knew she must have wrackspurts in her brain, what with the way her head was spinning and how she was actively moving towards the most dangerous thing in the world. As she crossed towards him, however, she caught sight of herself in a floor length mirror beside the bed and was completely and utterly distracted from the man sitting in front of her.

Perhaps her head was spinning because she hadn't been eating.

There were deep, dark rings beneath her eyes that stood out against her skin, which seemed paler than usual. Her blue-gray eyes seemed flat and lacked shine, and her hair was straggly and dull. "I look awful," she said, staring at her reflection. She raised her hands to her cheeks and rubbed harshly, trying to get some color into her face.

"I wasn't aware you were prone to vanity," Tom replied scathingly from where he was seated.

"I look ill," she replied.

"Perhaps if you ate the food you were given you would look healthier."

Luna inched closer to the mirror and rubbed her eyes. "I'm not hungry," she said simply.

"Pining over your hero?" he said, his voice icy beneath the mocking.

Luna froze, remembering forcefully that something had happened. Something that she suspected had to do with Harry, the Weasleys, and the rest of her friends. Something big, if Voldemort was acting so strangely. She remained facing the mirror, disturbed by the possibilities as well as her own appearance. She answered carefully, "Pining over all of them. I miss them all. You know that."

"Of course I know," he said, not revealing any information as she had hoped he would.

"Will you tell me what's happened?" she asked quietly.

"No."

"Then why have you brought me here?" She could see his gaze fall to the floor in the mirror's reflection, but he said nothing.

Exhaling heavily, Luna placed her palms flat against the mirror. "I really don't look well," she said, changing the subject, knowing she would get nowhere.

"Then eat," he replied tersely, enunciating each word. He rose from the bed and crossed the room to look in the mirror at her over her shoulder. "You'll get handprints on my mirror," he said.

That reminded Luna so strongly of the young Tom that she laughed, though it felt hollow and frail. "In some ways you've not changed at all," she said.

He frowned and raised an eyebrow at her in the mirror, but said nothing.

She removed her hands from the surface of the mirror, and there were indeed two small handprints on the glass. Instinctively, she reached for her wand behind her ear to do a quick cleaning spell, but remembered at the last second she was wandless. She twirled a strand of hair around her finger instead, trying to rid her head of all the horrible scenarios of what had possibly occurred. If he wouldn't tell her, there was no sense in speculating. But she couldn't seem to help it. And she really did look unwell.

Tom took a stealthy step closer to her. She was focused on the bags beneath her eyes when she felt his hands come to rest on her shoulders. She froze, feeling him exhale on the back of her neck. Her eyes dropped to her feet. This was the closest he had been to her in what felt like forever, and she was unsure what his intentions were or how to react.

"Oh, I don't know," he murmured, and she had a creeping feeling that he most definitely did know. "You look...good enough."

Cool fingers ghosted along her shoulders, down her arms, and then back again. Luna made to turn to face him, but his fingers clamped down on her shoulders, holding her as she was. She looked up and finally met his red eyes in the mirror, and she instantly knew why he'd called for her, what he wanted.

And she knew she would give it to him.

Tom's hands slid forward on her shoulders and came to the first button on her blouse. Long, thin fingers deftly undid it, his eyes all the while watching her face in the mirror intently. Slowly, he moved to the next button, then the next, and the next. As more of her skin came in to view, she watched his hands, fascinated, and made no attempt to stop him.

His fingers kept brushing against her skin as he undid her blouse, and she felt as if her senses were hyper-aware. Each time their skin touched, an electric energy seemed to crackle between them.

She knew he was doing this to escape, to hide, to forget whatever had happened that had so bothered him. She knew she shouldn't let him. But again, she felt powerless to stop him. And a nagging thought in the back of her head told her that even if she could, she wouldn't.

He finally reached the last button, then slid her shirt down her shoulders, agonizingly slow. Her arms free, he carelessly tossed it to the side. He wrapped his hands around her upper arms and roughly pulled her back against him. She exhaled sharply, the suddenness of the force surprising her, as he had been so gentle. He lowered his lips to her bare shoulder, his mouth surprisingly cool.

Luna felt as though her knees would give out in a minute, and when he suddenly bit down harshly on the part where her neck met her shoulder, they nearly did. She leaned back against him without thought. As she did so, she could feel his lips curve languidly into a smile against her skin. She shuddered and wondered whether she could live with the consequences of what she'd started. Because she knew there was no stopping it.