+- Author's Foreword -+
HISTORICAL NOTE: If the firsthand accounts from orphans in this time period have proven anything to me, it's that these kids were really tough. It may seem strange that the bullies in this story are so resilient, but these orphanage environments were comparable to military barracks or prisons, with rampant stealing and kids even shanking each other. Sadly, the only real complaint these tough people give in their accounts is the lack of affectionate human interaction and physical contact.
So, with that in mind, it may be obvious, but I'd also like to point out that I'm writing an imperfect narrator. Someone might say "religion is false" or "that person is a loser," but it's that specific character's perspective (and not mine) - they could be wrong, in denial, or ready to change their mind later.
V
Crossing Lines and Vicious Décor
"You are not to cross this line," Tom commanded, "You are not to reach across this line for any reason - do you understand?"
Domino sighed, "Hugs are good, Tom. You're just being ridiculous."
The vibrant safety-hazard that was Tom and Domino's special spot had recently been remodeled into an orderly grid of stick-lined squares and dirt-drawn lines. Tom sat cross-legged on the edge of a 5x5 square, gently stroking his pregnant snake's scales.
In a clipped tone, which he realized much-too-late was a rather perfect imitation of Mrs. Cole, he stated clearly, "How many times must I explain this to you, Domino? I am never ridiculous."
"So, then… Are you Riddle-cous?" she quipped, before cackling like a maniac at her own joke.
She was not the least bit funny. Not at all.
"Domino, it is never too late for me to increase this five foot radius…" he said.
Scowling playfully, Domino inched another square closer, while she teased, "Whatever. You know it was funny… Also, if you hated the hug so much, why are you still going on about it, huh?"
"Firstly, I believe you're vastly underestimating my capacity to hate," Tom said, eyeing Domino's nearing form warily, "Secondly, I must take these measures to ensure that it never happens again. Do you hear me? Never. Again."
PLOP!
Domino's slow crawl had ceased as she lobbed a crumpled wad of notebook paper the remaining distance to Tom's lap. Tom snatched up the paper wad and held it to one side of his resolute stare.
"No, Domino!" Tom scolded, "You are not allowed to throw anything over the line either. Must I write down my mandates in yet another list?"
She rolled her eyes and laughed, "Wow, Tom. You're acting as if I actually want to hug you again."
"Of course, you do," he answered curtly, a mocking smirk creeping onto his face as he crossed his arms over his chest, "Am I not your hero? If I am correct - and, of course, I am - I believe hero worship comes with compulsory adoration and shows of affection."
Domino rolled her eyes and sighed, "I just like you, Tom - I don't worship you."
She was so obviously in denial.
"Rationalize it however you must," he drawled, while unwrapping and smoothing the crumpled paper she'd thrown.
Ugh, how dare she waste his limited resources? Clearly, she didn't understand that such things would be rare and valuable commodities in the years they'd spend together at Wool's Prison.
However, as he glanced down at the wrinkled sheet of paper, he realized it was not, in fact, empty but already marred by several colorful wax streaks, courtesy of Domino's crayons.
"What is this?" he demanded.
Right before his eyes, an angry-looking stick-boy was being assaulted by a cheery-looking stick-girl. Tears flew from her eyes, just as a ridiculous hat flew off of the stick-boy's head. One large, bright-green snake and a long line of wiggly, miniature ones cheered on from the sidelines. What a horrific scene! Stick-boy was doomed - his attackers had cut off all possible routes of escape.
"You can't stop me from hugging you on paper, Tom," she giggled, her eyebrows wiggling as she accompanied her threatening crayon drawing with a cruel taunt, "Also, technically that drawing touched my hands, and now you're touching it, so now you're touching me. So… yeah."
Tom Riddle dropped it like it was hot.
Eyes narrowing into a suspicious glare, he deadpanned, "Why is there a hat?"
"Because you're being a superhero, so you need to look like one!" Domino explained insistently, "The Shadow always wears a fedora and a cloak like that. I would've added the scarf too, but it would've covered up the angry frown - and, I wanted it to be obvious that it was you."
Tom promptly did a scowling impression of his likeness. Truly, the fedora was much too pointy - it made him look more like some ungodly witch than a radio-show star.
"So, anyways!" his tiny tormentor continued, "I think we should test your snake speech some more."
Tom stuffed the horrific drawing away in his pocket, before coolly addressing Domino's latest scheme, "Oh? And what would you have me do?"
Domino held up one hand and began counting the various stages of her plan on her weak, little fingers as she said, "First, let's see if you can speak it without looking at the snake. Then, we can see if you can speak it without listening. And then, we can see if you can speak it when talking just to me."
Times like these, Domino almost made up for her constant babbling and unwanted shows of affection - emphasis on almost. She was rather logical and systematic in her study of his many gifts. Tom, of course, could've done it all on his own, but it was refreshing to have an ambitious minion saving him so much time and effort.
"Very well," he replied, though it sounded much too agreeable for his tastes, so he added, "Although, your pronunciation of the hisses is abominable. So, the last one is hardly a fair test."
Domino just wrinkled her nose, leapt forward another square, and hissed, grinning mischievously, "Whatever, Tom. Don't make me hug you!"
Tom immediately rescinded all thought of Domino being tolerable - this girl was purest evil.
Amy Benson was humming rather off-key as she handed Domino yet another plate. She then returned to tugging at a few messy stitches on Domino's latest sewing disaster, while Domino scrubbed the dirty plate clean.
Domino had to hand it to Amy - her prissy roommate certainly hadn't stepped in to stop the bullies, but she hadn't really stopped helping Domino because of them either. Gregarious, effeminate, and hopelessly superficial, Amy was practically the polar opposite of Domino - right down to the pretty, pink bows and ribbons she'd stolen from her own dolls. And yet, the two girls had somehow managed to come to an understanding.
With only a father to teach her boyish things like math and science and comic books, Domino was positively hopeless at all the sewing and laundry and other domestic chores she was expected to do while proving herself an "acceptable lady." Amy, on the other hand, had no interest in getting her hands dirty or measuring and mixing the yeast and dough and other cooking ingredients properly. Thus, the roommates had developed a rather efficient partnership, swapping chores to each benefit from the other's superior skills.
"All done," Amy declared, handing over Domino's now acceptably-embroidered sewing ring.
"I'm finished with the plates too," said Domino, before the two girls padded out of the kitchen, heading for the stairs.
Amy and Domino paused at the bottom of the staircase. The boys' crafting or "vocational skills" rooms were located on the opposite side of the ground floor, and it appeared that one of their sessions had just finished. A rather rowdy band of boys was mingling at the far end of the hallway, but a familiar figure was approaching all by his lonesome.
"G-gotta go," Amy stammered, while nervously tugging on one of her hair ribbons.
Strangely, Amy had a sort of "built-in" ten-foot-radius agreement with Tom. Whenever she spotted him closing in, she'd scatter, skittering out of eyesight and usually out of the immediate area. Domino noted that today was no different as Amy dashed up the stairs, presumably escaping to their shared room.
"Ah, and there goes the loudmouth. It would appear that I have saved you, yet again! Really, Domino, at this rate you'll be indebted to me for life," drawled a very familiar, very smug voice.
"She's not that bad," sighed Domino as Tom took Amy's former spot by the stairs.
"Yes, well, perhaps I've forgotten -" he said, leaning against the stairwell banister and feigning confusion, "where was she, when all those bullies were woofing and pushing you around?"
Domino sighed again, "Not everything is a competition, Tom."
Tom's voice abruptly switched to a rather-good imitation of Domino's American accent as he mocked, "That sounds like the sort of thing people say when they're losing."
Before Domino could try her hand at an imitation of Tom's pompous drawl, the rowdy band of boys clamored over to join them at the foot of the staircase. All of her least-favorite boys were among the group - the beak-boy, Dustin, the oaf, Bobby, and Amy's pseudo-boyfriend, Dennis Bishop.
"Well, if it isn't Dominos and Checkers," boomed Dennis in that deep voice of his, the "dreamy" one that Amy would never shut up about.
Unlike the other boys, Dennis had never done more than swipe a few loaves of bread at mealtimes. Domino knew she could handle him.
Thus, she promptly corrected the boy, cheerfully chirping, "Actually, I think he's more like Chess - it's smarter."
Dennis' jaw hung loose, a rather confused expression sweeping over his features as he likely searched for an adequate retort. Tom was quick to the punch as always.
"Don't talk to them, Domino - the mental effort will damage their brains," he drawled, before smiling wickedly at Dennis and adding, "Actually - do talk to them."
Bobby the Oaf must have sensed Dennis' resolve was floundering, for he swiftly came to the gaping boy's rescue. Bobby stepped forward, brushing aside some of his lank, moptop bangs, while he carefully tucked the book he always carried beneath one sweaty armpit.
"Freaky Tom Riddle thinks he's so smart," sneered Bobby, clearly having learned very little from Tom's recent power demonstration.
Boys were so stupid.
"He is smart," snapped Domino, turning her nose up with enough sass to make even Amy Benson proud.
"Nobody asked you, dumb-ino," growled Dennis as he finally recovered from his stupor.
Domino's newly-coined nickname was prompting a few rounds of snickers from the thuggish gang, and Tom was tensing at her side, most likely eager for a repeat of last week's victory. However, Domino had found that whole bully-beating experience far less enjoyable than Tom apparently did. She quickly looped her arm through Tom's and began tugging the immediately-paralyzed boy towards the stairs.
It was inevitable that every superhero would have a weakness. The Shadow's nemesis was Shiwan Khan, a gold-obsessed, hypnotic supervillain. Tom's nemesis was hugs - and, really, any form of affectionate physical contact.
"Suit yourself, Domino," Bobby sneered again, glancing down at their linked arms with an expression of utter disgust and disappointment.
Bobby withdrew the thick book from beneath his arm and shook it at Domino while growling, "One day, this freak's gonna use his demon magic on you too. When that day comes, you can't say you didn't have your chance."
With a defiant Hmph, Domino dragged the rather-rigid, somewhat-dazed Tom Riddle up the stairs.
As soon as they'd reached the fourth floor and were very much out of sight of the older boys, Tom shoved her arm away and began his bossing.
"What did I tell you, Domino? Does this look like like five feet to you?" he snarled, pointing to the single stone block that currently separated them.
Domino glanced down, before bringing a hand to her chin and jesting, "Hmm… I suppose it's all relative, isn't it? Just like your 'good' and 'bad'... I bet I could fit five baby feet in this space."
"You are so dumb," he scoffed, though the corners of his lips were twitching upwards towards a smile.
Everyone seemed to be calling her dumb today, but somehow it just didn't carry the same weight when Tom said it. His true "secret language" was angry temper-tantrums after all, and when you're dealing with a kid whose idea of fun is burning houses, an almost-smiling half-insult seems downright pleasant.
Thus, Domino soon found herself skipping down the western half of the fourth floor hallway, rather cheerfully reminiscing about her own clever quips.
She'd passed the lavatories, which resided in the midpoint of the long hall, and was only a few skips into the western wing when Tom called out from behind.
"Wait! Where are you going?" he shouted, his smooth voice traveling clearly down the hall as he took a few brisk steps towards her.
Domino thought it was rather obvious - the western half of the fourth floor was for boys ages eight to ten, and she certainly wasn't going looking for one of the younger bullies-in-training.
She explained, "I thought maybe we could go play in your room for once."
"My room?" he parroted, as perplexed as if she'd just poorly attempted hissing in Snake rather than spoken simple English, "What on Earth would we do in there?"
"I don't know?" she replied, throwing her arms up in exasperation, "I've shown you my things already. Maybe, you can show me your stuff now."
Really. Why do I always have to come up with all the ideas? Domino inwardly groaned.
"No," Tom said firmly as he advanced to her side, his hand-me-down oxford shoes snapping against the stone floor, "My room is mine and mine alone."
Domino gasped, "No fair! You get the whole room to yourself?"
"Indeed," he answered, drawing closer to her side, smirking, and crossing his arms, "... jealous?"
"Of course, I'm jealous! I have to squeeze onto that rickety bunk every night… Sometimes I even have nightmares that it'll collapse and squash Julie," she said with a shudder.
Tom cocked an elegant eyebrow, looking rather impressed for once, though Domino had absolutely no idea what was so impressive about a rickety bunk.
"Well, that would certainly be one way of improving your living situation," he said seriously.
"Tom!" she gasped again, "That's not funny. Julie is nice, okay?"
"They always seem nice in the beginning," he deadpanned.
"Whatever. Let's go," Domino snapped, grinning when she saw Tom's indignant expression.
Good. It was time someone ordered him around for a change.
Turning swiftly on her heel, she began strutting deeper into the boys' western wing, doing her best imitation of a puffy-chested peacock. Several shouts of Domino! issued down the hallway, Tom's protests building in intensity, evolving into angry growls as she drew ever closer to his bedroom door. Before long, the leather soles of his oxfords were once again slapping against stone as he chased her down the hall. She squealed and giggled as she finally threw open his door. She nearly managed to close it too, but he slammed against the wood with surprising strength.
"Open this door at once!" he grunted, and Domino immediately complied, allowing him to stumble awkwardly into his own room.
Domino had always found games like Hide-and-Seek and Tag to be quite fun, but clearly Tom didn't share her enthusiasm… She counted one angry scowl, two clenched fists, and one menacing glare - yes, Tom was back to fuming.
It was too late, however. Domino had learned his greatest weakness, and now it was only too easy to keep him satisfied. He had a rather large ego - you'd probably have to be hypnotized by Shiwan Khan to miss it.
"Wow, Tom! I didn't realize you were so strong!" she gasped, her eyes widening as she shook her head in admiration, "Really, there was no way I could've held that door any longer."
Tom's eyebrows rose and fell a few times as he fought to maintain his scowl. Finally, he released an aggravated grunt, as well as his clenched fists.
Then, in his remarkably neutral tone, wearing his remarkably neutral mask, he stated, "Domino, your manipulations are entirely transparent."
"But, they're true," she chirped, giving a small shrug as Tom raised an eyebrow, "I just can't help it that I look guilty all the time."
"Very well," he said, pulling a hard, wooden chair to his bedside, and then gracefully lowering himself onto his rather-thin mattress, "I suppose you've already successfully invaded, so… welcome to my room."
Sometimes Domino wished the BBC could start an up-to-the-minute Tom weather forecast, for his moods truly went from hot to cold and stormy to sunny so fast. Although, she supposed the orphanage didn't have a television or radio to tune in anyway… Well. At least, sometimes his moody surprises were pleasant - like him behaving civilly enough to bring her a chair even after he hadn't gotten his way.
Domino grasped the back of the plain, wooden chair, preparing to sit down, but Tom promptly stretched his legs out and casually dropped his feet into the seat.
"By all means, make yourself at home," he said pleasantly.
Domino scowled, but decided to take this opportunity to stand and look around his room. Of course, there wasn't much room to see, and there wasn't much room to move. She simply turned in a slow circle, as there wasn't space to take more than one step in any given direction. The standard iron bed frame, the standard old wardrobe, and a chair - his room looked exactly the same as every other, just with one less bed and one more chair.
"So, how come you get this whole room to yourself?" she asked.
Tom folded his hands in his lap and continued in his tone of false pleasantness, "Because, Mrs. Cole realized it was to everyone's benefit that I be allowed special privileges."
Domino could only imagine what that meant. If he was telekinetically throwing cigarettes around just for "fun," he must have been an absolute nightmare to room with.
"Doesn't it get kind of scary at night though?" Domino asked, continuing her pondering aloud, "It seems like it'd be kind of creepy sleeping here all by yourself…"
He answered her question with another question, whispering in a cold, dangerous tone that one would typically reserve for threats, "What, are you afraid of the dark, Domino?"
Shivering just a bit from thoughts of the cold and the dark, Domino answered truthfully, "Just a little… Aren't you?"
"No," he replied curtly, before hunching over and drumming his long fingers against the iron bed frame, "No, I'm not afraid of anything."
"Oh yeah?" Domino scoffed, "You seemed pretty afraid that Mrs. Cole would kill the snake!"
Tom's fists immediately clenched, his fingernails screeching against the metal frame as he squeezed.
"That was concern, Domino," he huffed, before sliding back, leaning against the wall, and adding coolly, "We can speak of this again when you've finally improved your vocabulary."
Domino sighed. The orphanage beds were quite small but still wide enough to contain most of a 10-year-old boy's legs when sitting widthwise. Thus, she seized her chance to pull the chair out from under his feet, ignoring his protests as she plopped down into the freed seat with a satisfied grin.
"So, who roomed in here with you before?" she asked cheerfully, while she propped her feet against the iron bedframe.
"Billy Stubbs," he said quietly, shooting a glare in her direction that was fit to kill.
"Oh."
"Ah, yes. Poor, little Billy!" he exclaimed, perking up into a state of mock concern, "It just wouldn't be good to expose any other children to my evil, now would it?"
"They're all just confused, Tom," she sighed, before babbling her way through a defense of their confusion, "They don't understand that you have powers because you're a superhero. I mean, it's really hard to tell sometimes… The Shadow can cloud people's minds and Shiwan Khan can hypnotize them, but one's a hero and one's a villain. So, powers are really just super-confusing in general."
Tom sneered, "As I've said, good and evil are relative - power is not."
"Yeah, I guess…" she muttered, suddenly feeling very claustrophobic in this dull, plaster-white cube of a room.
London had been dreary and overcast of late, and though sunlight filtered in through the room's small window, the light was rather pale and cool and lifeless. As Domino glanced from the stone-grey floor to the sandy-brown wardrobe to the bleak, white walls, she realized there wasn't a single speck of vibrant color to be seen. Even Tom's eyes, which sometimes appeared blue or green in the right lighting, had been reduced to a somber grey.
Nibbling on her lip, Domino shifted in the uncomfortably-hard chair and exclaimed suddenly, "I know! Let's do some coloring today. You have all this space, so we might as well decorate."
Tom's eyes widened slightly, and if it had been anyone else, Domino might have pegged the emotion as fear or even horror. Of course, that couldn't possibly be the case, because Tom said he wasn't afraid of anything - and, of course, Tom Riddle would never lie.
Domino stifled a little laugh as Tom said, "I am not letting you turn my sanctuary into some frou-frou girl's room."
"Frou-frou? Wow, that's some nice vocabulary there, Tom…" she teased, "Don't worry, I'll draw you some cool stuff, like dragons and snakes."
"Fine. But, I want none of those baby snakes drawn - my minions must all be vicious predators," he said in complete seriousness.
Domino rolled her eyes. She then jumped up from the hard chair and started stretching her sore posterior as she edged towards the door. After pulling open the door, she paused in the doorway with her hand on the knob.
Just before the door slammed shut, she said, "Don't worry, Tom - I'll draw the kittens especially vicious."
Tom had to admit that his room's new décor was coming along nicely. Waxy tongues of bright-orange and deep-red flames licked at one corner of the room, encased by a fancy, dark-green fireplace. Opposite the bed, mountains and evergreen trees rose around a shallow lake, where various vicious creatures were made to stand guard over his new domain.
Tom had begrudgingly allowed his babbling artist a cute deer or two, as well. He'd learned it was best to keep the girl appeased, to reward his sidekick's loyalty from time to time. Also… Tom always took care of what was his, and his new crayon dragons and snakes would certainly need some crayon prey to eat - not that he'd tell the frou-frou girl that.
"You know what day it is, Tom?" hummed Domino as she scribbled scales and such on a big, blue dragon.
Tom had removed his shoes and pulled up his chair to sit beside the colorful fireplace. Domino had teased that he shouldn't sit so close, for his socks might catch fire and burn another house down. Of course, Tom had promptly directed her to return to her task and leave the witty commentary to the resident hero. Truly, the girl was not funny, not in the least - neither were her attempted hugs.
"Today is July the Fourth," Tom said disinterestedly, skillfully hiding his immediate suspicions of a trap.
Just as he'd feared, Domino soon revealed an ulterior motive. She slid away from the wall, presenting what the little con-artist had been so studiously working on, right under his nose. How had he not foreseen this? The terms of their coloring deal had been much too simple, stipulating only, one, no frou-frou, and, two, no baby creatures. Yes, this was quite disturbing proof that Tom Riddle was losing his edge - good grief, that girl was a bad influence!
Now blemishing his otherwise-majestic wall was a miniature stick-girl, riding his dragon's back and brandishing a pole with the stars and stripes of an American flag. How dare Stick-girl lay claim on his dominion!
"Yeah!" cheered Domino, taunting him evilly while she bounced on her knees, "It's the day my country kicked your country's butt!"
Tom responded in a bored yet enviously-smooth voice, "And yet, now you are here… speaking crudely of 'butts.'"
He would not give her the satisfaction of seeing him rattled in the wake of her surprise attack. No, Tom was a master at projecting a cool and unaffected demeanor under any circumstances - devious, little Domino could just watch and learn. Steepling his hands, Tom subtly smirked as he returned his cool gaze to his stationary, crayon fire.
The little loser pouted, crossing her arms and wrinkling her nose as she said, "That's besides the point. The point is you said you never lose."
Tom had to admire her ingenuity. She found a way to undermine him and his agenda at every turn, poking holes in his arguments, keeping him on his toes with all the clever compliments and the… hugs. Indeed, if he wasn't careful, he'd soon be deposed - and, Tom Riddle was no one's sidekick.
"I can hardly be held responsible for the old British Empire's mismanagement of a rebellion," Tom drawled as he strode over to the wall, ready to assess the damage to his dominion up close.
Of course, only a single stride was required for him to reach said wall, as Wool's Prison provided rather cramped accommodations to its inmates. Tom resolved that one day his dominion would be at least ten times as spacious.
"Mismanagement?" repeated Domino, demonstrating her ignorance yet again.
And, this is why I'm the hero and you're the sidekick, he thought as he kneeled in front of a red dragon, selected some crayons, and began adding his own superior drawing to the wall mural.
"Indeed. Under my reign, dissent would never reach the point of resistance," he declared proudly.
Domino leaned over to watch him work, scowling as she no doubt discovered that Tom had bested her yet again. Indeed, it must have been difficult for Domino, forced to decide each day anew which of Tom's many skills deserved her rapt attention and admiration…
With a flourish, Tom put the finishing touches on Stick-boy's victory scene. Now, Stick-girl's blue dragon was dwarfed by Stick-boy's armored red. Overhead, a British flag was waving as a beacon in the sky, a symbol to strike fear in all of Stick-boy's enemies. Meanwhile, the red dragon clawed at the blue dragon's underside and spit snaking flames all over its stupid, blue face - oh, and Stick-boy also shot it with a rocket gun, just for good measure. Stick-boy would take no chances.
"Your reign?" Domino scoffed, the audacious girl daring to roll her eyes at his artwork, "What, are you going to be the King of England now?"
"I'm already a hero - is that not the next logical step?" he said with a smirk, before twirling the crayon around in his hand and musing aloud, "But, no, not a king. I want nothing so… common."
She blinked dumbly, before replying, "I don't think you understand what a hero is, Tom."
He settled into a cross-legged position and sighed, "A subjective label applied to whatever well-known figure has benefited the current power structure lately?"
And then, Domino giggled. Her giggle was like a warning bell in his ears, an omen of terrible things to come, things like hugs and… more giggles. As she crawled closer and closer, Tom panicked as a grave realization finally hit him - his entire room barely had five feet of free space to spare. Once again, the five-foot radius had been breached, his security measures thwarted! She was now sitting mere inches away from him in a demonstrative show of force.
"You're so silly," she giggled again.
Domino's casual manner of addressing him was right next to 'personal space' on his growing secret list of girl problems. First, she had hugged him - and, what an abhorrent experience that had been. Then, she invited herself into his room, joked of butts, and permanently inserted herself on his wall. At this rate, they'd be holding hands and calling each other vile pet names by Christmas!
"For the last time," Tom snapped, "I am not silly."
"Well, you are confused. I'm not a power structure, and I don't care about a bunch of benefits," she said in an obnoxiously-kind tone, "I'll always remember that my friend was there for me when I needed him. And, it won't matter what he's done lately - I'll always feel good about it. That's all there is to it, Tom."
Something was amiss. Tom's survival instincts had immediately kicked in - or, perhaps, it was just that warm, sickly pang that Domino's words had left in his chest cavity. His eyes flitted about the area as he sought out some indication, some warning of the impending attack.
There it was - a soft, tickling sensation was now traveling across his shoulders as Domino's fingers covertly crept along his back, fingertips grazing the thin fabric of his white uniform shirt. Thankfully, she hadn't been covert enough, and he'd managed to detect the clandestine hand in time. Just before the devious girl could pounce, snaring him in another one of those disgusting hugs, he whirled around and swat her arm aside.
Armed with a Celestial Blue crayon, he then snapped, "Behind the line, Domino!"
+- Closing Thoughts -+
So, you may have noticed a rather ridiculous sentence in this chapter (probably several)... Please put down the pitchforks! I tried to be serious - Siriusly - but then, it felt like my entire, brief fanfic life had led up to the moment that I finally got to write "Tom Riddle dropped it like it was hot" in a semi-serious sentence. Perhaps, one day I'll change it, but for now, there it is, in all of its Riddle-cous glory.
~*~ As always, thanks for reading (and possibly reviewing)! ^_^ ~*~