Author's Note: You people rock my glow in the dark snowflake socks off. Thank you for your support and reviews! *Warning* Tom centered.

September 1, 1938- King's Cross Station

"You can't be serious," Tom asked up to the old wizard as he looked at the stone wall that he was told to run through. He was actually told to run through a hard, solid wall! The man must be mental.

"I assure you I am. On the other side of this wall will be the Hogwarts Express that will take you to the castle. All you have to do is get on and I will meet you at the school." Tom nodded, his eyes never leaving the brick wall. "You don't have to be nervous, Tom. This will be one of the many things you will experience as a wizard."

"I'm not nervous," he spat, tightening the grip he had on his cart handle to hide his sweaty palms.

Tom wanted to ask if Dumbledore would cross over with him but doing so would show weakness, and Tom vowed to never show that side again.

"So I just… run through," he asked in his most confident voice.

"Yes."

"And I will end up somewhere else."

"That is correct."

"This isn't a joke?"

The man flashed him a tiny hurt expression. "I would never joke about sending a student of mine to run into a wall if I was not confident it would bring him to where he needed to be."

Tom gave him a skeptical look and Dumbledore returned it with a twinkling grin.

"Off you go now. It is best if you get a running start as this will be your first time."

The boy nodded and stared at the wall. He took a breath to calm his nerves that were in a frenzy and took a step forward, followed by another, and another until he was between a jog and a power walk. When he was just inches from the stone wall, he forced his eyes open. If he was going to crash at least he could catch himself. Instead, his cart holding his suitcase slipped into the wall and he was in a dark tunnel until reappearing on a noisy platform.

Tom looked behind him to the same blank wall he just came out of and then back to the large black and red train that blew smoke from the top. He couldn't help but look around as he moved closer to the train. Parents were crying, children his age looked nervous, and the rest looked like they were at home. The first thing that crossed Tom's mind was that this was all a trick and he was being sent away. A hand came down on his shoulder and he looked up expecting to find Dumbledore but instead found a tall man in a uniform.

"First time?" he asked in a thick Scottish accent. Tom nodded. "Ah don't worry, laddie. You'll get used to it. Let's get you on the train, yeah?"

Tom could do nothing but follow the stranger as he led them to one of the many opened doors. The man handed Tom his suitcase and bid him a safe trip with a tip of his hat before disappearing with his cart. Tom made his way up into the train.

It was half full with the other half still bidding farewell. Tom took the opportunity to look for an empty compartment which didn't take him long to find. He went inside and slid his suitcase under his seat. He sat close to the window as more children started to trickle in, the first years in the back, the upperclassmen near the front. Many stopped by to ask if they could sit with him but he didn't answer and so they left him in peace. After fifteen long minutes, he heard the train whistle and they were off.

For some reason, Tom couldn't shake this uneasy feeling he had about this so called "Hogwarts". Truth be told, it seemed too good to be true, like something literally out of a fairy tale. Dumbledore's tardiness this morning didn't help ease his worries either. The man was ten minutes late to pick him up from the hell hole that was the orphanage. Tom thought he was one of those adults that made you feel safe, wanted, only to be tricked and shine as a fool for all to see. He half expected to see a dark car pull into the driveway with a funny name and the words, "Children's psych ward," at the end.

But Dumbledore showed up. The man had a lame excuse that he ran into an acquaintance outside the orphanage and had "lost track of time with her."

But Tom was no fool. He could sense a lie a mile away.

But he showed up.

Her, he thought of the word. Maybe it was his girlfriend. Former student? Past crush? He shook his head to stop himself from thinking about Dumbledore's personal life and concentrated on his immediate surroundings.

All feelings of being sent off to a mental institute for children were erased as Tom would occasionally see flying paper cranes and people walking around in their school robes. He had the compartment all to himself and he was grateful for that. As excited as he was to actually go a school for magic, he didn't want unwanted company.

Lost in his thoughts of what Hogwarts would be like, he almost missed the blur of brown hair whizzing by to chase after the trolley. His heart smashed itself into his rib cage and Tom jumped to his feet and ran to slide open his door. He looked down to where the trolley would be and found a girl with long brown hair trading her money for some treats. With just one glance, he knew it wasn't her. Her complexion was all wrong, her hair color was darker and too straight.

It wasn't her.

Of course it wouldn't be her; Hermione was just a regular girl, after all.

The girl turned around and met Tom's blue eyes. Even her eyes were different; they were a crystal green color like morning dew on a blade of grass. She smiled at him. He frowned at her.

"Do you want some?" she offered Tom, holding out a packaged chocolate frog.

He shook his head. "No thanks." Tom turned around to go back into his compartment and sat by the window again. His door opened and in stepped the same girl with a smile on her face.

"Are you a first year?" she asked taking a seat next to him without asking for permission.

He nodded and continued to stare out of his window, not in the mood to make small talk. She continued talking anyway.

"So am I. My name is Lucia McGroff, but you can call me Lulu. Lu is fine too," she rambled and waited for the boy to tell her his name.

Tom didn't answer and wished that she would go away.

"Do you have a house you're thinking about? I'm aiming for Ravenclaw or Slytherin. Hufflepuffs are too soft and weak and Gryffindors are stupid. At least, that's what my uncle and cousin told me. Slytherin is the best but Ravenclaw isn't too bad because that's where smart people go."

Then you probably won't get into Ravenclaw, Tom thought to himself when the annoying girl couldn't catch on to his silent hint to leave him alone. She continued to ramble on about Hogwarts as if Tom didn't already know and he clenched his hands into fists.

"Are you alone?"

Yes.

No! Hermione is out there waiting for me.

"I have an older cousin name Christopher. He's already a second year Slytherin," she shared.

I have no one.

I have Hermione. I just have to find her.

"Well, we'll be at Hogwarts soon so I better get back and change into my robes. Maybe I'll see you around…" she waited for him to say something but he just continued to ignore her and looked at the scenery burring by. Then she boldly said, "You're cute," and ran out of the compartment with a blush on her cheeks.

When Tom was sure the girl was gone, he looked next to him where a packaged chocolate frog sat.

"Stupid girl," he muttered before picking up the treat, pulled the string to unravel it and marveled at the sight of the chocolate frog coming to life and jumping onto the glass window. He was a little disappointed that he couldn't enjoy the chocolate but the magic was a treat in itself.

By the end of the starry night boat ride, the Prefects and Head Boy and Girl introduction, the sorting ceremony and the great welcoming feast, Tom's head was spinning. There was so much magic, so many moving and talking portraits and moving staircases. Ghosts floated by as they gave him a cheery greeting and he couldn't believe the beauty that the magical world held. Diagon Alley was great, but Hogwarts was on a whole different level of wonder and awes.

He walked in line as all the first year Slytherins were led to their sleeping quarters in the dungeon. A single tap on his shoulder forced Tom to turn around where a smiling girl was looking at him.

"Hi again. Seems like we're both Slytherins," Lucia said with a bright grin.

"Yeah, I guess so," was his indifference response. Tom wasn't very good at talking to people, he was comfortable being alone.

He turned away to march in line but the girl pushed her way next to him and started to ramble about how excited she was. Tom tuned her out for fear he would lose his temper along with his control of his magic.

After what felt like hours with Lucia babbling Tom's ear off, the group walked into the Slytherin's common room. There were lighted candles and lanterns that gave an almost romantic, dim glow. The fireplace was already roaring as it warmed the large, spacious room and as more people trickled in, the room magically brightened up. The Slytherin Prefects got down to business and handed out the room arrangements before explaining some rules like the spell to keep boys from climbing the stairs leading to the girls dormitory, before leaving.

Tom quickly went to look for his room before Lucia could start up a one person conversation again. The dungeon, despite its name, was actually nice. Luxurious even, thanks to the other occupants' rich family, and now, it was all Tom's.

When he opened the door to his room, the site made him hold his breath. The first thing he noted was how green everything was with a little bit of silver and black to highlight small things like the trimming of the curtains. He liked it; it wasn't an obnoxious, bright vomit color but a very warm, moss and hunter green. It reminded him of the garden snake back at the orphanage and the colors vibrated compared to the grey in his room.

The second thing he noticed immediately was how spacious the room was; it was at least five- no- ten times bigger than his old room. He felt excitement start to bubble up.

But then he noted the other beds, and the exciting bubble died.

Roommates, he thought grimly. Tom always had a room to himself growing up and he liked it that way. He liked being able to shut the world out, to have a safe haven to think and feel without unwanted eyes.

At least there are curtains, he tried to think positively, and proceeded to make himself comfortable on one of the beds.

He opened his trunk that Dumbledore was generous enough to charm so that it was larger inside to accommodate his new clothes, supplies and a few extra personal things he carried from the orphanage. Tom slowly took out Hermione's silver shell and placed it snugly in his nightstand drawer. He then pulled out his class schedule and packed his school bag for tomorrow's classes. For the first time in a while, Tom was excited.

September 15, 1938

School was something Tom thought he would never be able to experience. Mrs. Cole would try to home school them with a few lessons in math or literature but her duties to their health came first; their education lower on the list. Tom was only grateful he took to books at an early age. It helped mature his speech, sharpened his reading and mind and improved his writing; skills he needed to survive in his studies.

Tom skidded around a corner and down the grand staircase toward the dungeons. He was cutting it close to curfew tonight since he went off after Astronomy Class and explored the castle.

It had been roughly two weeks since he started his first year and September was already bringing in the chilly Scottish weather. Time seemed to pass quickly at Hogwarts; he didn't know how he felt about that.

It would be her birthday in four days.

Nevertheless, Tom thoroughly enjoyed his time at Hogwarts, it was a nice change in scenery from the dreary orphanage. The food was exquisite, a feast for every meal fit for a king, the castle was breath taking, the teachers were pushovers and were already calling him a genius, a natural, the material was interesting and he excelled in his work. If Hogwarts had a grade skipping system, Tom would be attending second year classes. Granted, he wished there was a challenge but he just only turned a first year. There would be plenty of opportunities to apply himself. The only thing Tom didn't like was-

"Locomotor Mortis!"

Tom felt the muscles in his legs tense painfully as he fell face first to the ground, his bag crashed against the hard surface and spilled books, papers and quills everywhere and his wand rattled just a few inches out of reach. He looked up to the sound of snickering and saw three boys smirking down to him.

"Well, well, well. Looky what I caught!" the blond boy with grey eyes taunted. "A trespasser."

Tom struggled against the curse but found trying to separate his legs to be useless without a wand in hand. He looked up to the smirking boy.

"Are you blind? I'm not a trespasser, now let me go!" he growled. Another boy, one with hair as dark as Tom's, crouched down for closer inspection.

"He's right, Abraxas. This guy is a fellow Slytherin."

Abraxas? Abraxas Malfoy? Tom noted the name into his memory bank.

If he was Abraxas than the other two must be the Black cousins, Cygnus and Orion. He never paid much attention to the other students as no one talked to him and he wasn't about to ignite a conversation with any one of those dim wits, especially the three boys standing proudly above him. They strutted around the school with their wealth and aristocratic aura pouring out of them like a type of pheromone that caused all admirers to run up and kiss their expertly polished shoe. It didn't take long for Tom to learn that all three hailed from the richest families. The trio quickly turned into the big bad bullies in the school and no matter how many times they were reported by their victims, Dippet always let them go without so much as a slap on their little wrists. Tom guessed it was because their family donated quite a bit of sum to the school which would explain why the dungeon was so luxurious.

"Tom Riddle, right?" ask the last boy who looked almost identical to the crouching boy except for his cropped, lighter short hair.

"Riddle?" the blond mused. "Never heard of a pureblood family with that name. So what are you, a mudblood?" he sneered down to the wiggling boy. "A mudblood in Slytherin? We have to report such an abomination."

An animalistic growl ripped from Tom's throat as his eyes turned into slits.

"What's wrong? Don't like being called in abomination, Mudblood?" laughed the cropped hair boy.

The boy named Abraxas smiled wickedly. "Abomination! Abomination," he laughed. "Yes I quite like that word for you. What better way to describe a mudblood placed in the holy house of Slytherin than with the word abomination? Your kind is worthless!"

"Stop it!" Tom commanded but the other boys just laughed harder.

Tom was growing angry at their taunts. Abomination; it wasn't a word he liked at all. It's what all the adults would whisper in the orphanage. A mother who popped up out of nowhere in the dead of night and died giving birth. An unknown father who never called or wrote to him. For all Tom knew he could be dead. No one to call family or friend except for Hermione who was taken away. Why must everything be taken away from him? He had done nothing wrong but live his life. Was he such a crime against the world?

"Abomination" was what the other adults would whisper. No one wanted to adopt a child that caused strange things to happen, a bastard child that killed his mother for the sake of living. No one wanted to adopt an abomination. No one but one wanted to even be friends with an abomination.

No one but one.

The boys kept chanting the word like a song as they danced around Tom's fallen form like vultures that spotted their next meal.

"Stop it," he whispered angrily to the ground as he tried to break free. Dealing with Billy Stubbs was one thing but these boys were like Tom, they also had magic and they knew how to use it.

"Hey look at this," one of the Black cousins called. Tom watched with panic as the boy bent down and took his pale wand that looked like a human radius bone that was carved to pick a giant's teeth. "Kinda cool, huh?" he asked the other boys.

"Yeah, I think I might keep it," declared Malfoy and he swiped the wand.

"That's mine!" Tom protested.

"Well too bad, it's mine now. Vermin like yourself doesn't need a wand. Your blood doesn't even hold a candle to us purebloods. You're probably just weak anyway."

"Let's see what other goodies he has."

The longer haired Black cousin picked up Tom's bag and tipped it upside down until everything fell out. The three boys rummaged through but found nothing but school supplies. And then, Malfoy's steel, grey eyes caught glimpse of something. It was a letter that peaked from the back pages of his diary where the last reminder of Hermione laid.

"What's this?" Malfoy asked as he plucked the red wax sealed letter. He flipped it over to find neat handwriting on the front. "Who is 'Mione? Your girlfriend?"

"Don't touch that!" screamed Tom from the ground. He struggled against the invisible bonds but his futile actions just caused the boys to laugh.

"Oh, so she is your girlfriend," taunted the blond. "Let's read what it says, shall we boys?"

"Do so and you will regret it," the fallen boy growled.

The three boys read on silently before bursting into a snicker.

"So she left you, did she?" the cropped hair boy taunted. "I am not surprised. Who would want to be with a mudblood? Hey Malfoy, you know any girl name 'Mione in this school? We should find her."

The silver haired boy smirked. "Nope. Let's read his diary to find out more about her." He flipped through the black book but found nothing but empty pages. "There is nothing in here. Just some stupid dead flower."

"Maybe she is imaginary."

"Imaginary? Well that is understandable. Who would be daft enough to name someone something stupid as 'Mione'?"

"I couldn't agree more. Guess this means you won't need this."

At his words, Malfoy waved his wand over the letter and it burst into bright orange flames before it floated down just inches from Tom's face.

"Hey, there's another letter. Want to read it?" one of the dark haired wizard asked.

No, Tom thought. He knew it was the birthday letter Hermione wrote to him.

"Stop them," whispered the dark voice.

How? I can't move and they have my wand!

"Nah," the leader of their pack said with a shake of his head. "It's probably just another stupid letter to his invisible girlfriend. Just burn it."

The boy did as he was told and Tom watched as the letter from Hermione burned. He wanted to vomit. Perhaps he should have as the vomit would have put out the fire.

Malfoy tossed the flatten daisy into the flame next and Tom watched as both objects was quickly eaten away by the fire leaving nothing behind, not even ashes. His heart rate spiked dangerously as Tom watch one of the Black cousin hand Malfoy his diary next and Tom could feel his stomach twist at the thought of what was going to happen next.

"STOP THEM!" the dark voice ordered.

Tom felt something inside him snap and a rush of energy consumed him momentarily before rushing from his body in an invisible wave that knocked the three boys back. Tom felt the leg-binding curse lift and dashed for his wand that dropped to the ground in the hidden attack. Did he just use wandless magic? As a first year? He heard groans and turned his head to see Malfoy try to get to his feet. Tom would have to think later.

Quickly, Tom made short work of the three boys as he took his wand and casted the leg-binding spell on all three at once, a difficult feat for even an adult to do and yet it was easier than cutting softened butter with a hot blade. Wherever this burst of magic came from, Tom made a mental note to learn how to call and harvest it when he got the chance.

The three pair of eyes widen in fear as they saw Tom with his wand in hand and pointed at them, his face twisted into an unforgiving snarl. He muttered several more spells, spells that wouldn't be taught until their later years, and inflicted them on the boys whose howls of pain and regret filled the dead dungeon space and bounced back off of Tom's silencing charm.

"Incarcerous!" he called, summoning ropes to hold his prisoners together in place.

"Levicorpus!" and the boys were flung into the air and hung upside down by their ankles. Their faces grew red as blood rushed to their head to the point dizziness came to visit.

"B-but you're just a first year like us, there's no way you can do that. No way! H-how do you know all those spells?" one boy asked.

From a third year Charm textbook a Gryffindor left in the library, he answered silently.

"Maybe you're not as strong as you claim to be," he sneered instead. As a first year that got his work done days in advance, Tom had ample amount of time to practice. Broom closets, empty classrooms, his own bedroom; the boy practiced every moment he got. He had a promise to keep, after all, and he didn't want to waste time.

Tom drew his wand down as his magic came out in bright purple blades that lightly licked the skins of the boys who had tears streaming down their faces. He brought his arm up over his head and asked,

"What was that you said about me being weak?"

Slash.

"About being an abomination?"

Slash. Pain. Blood.

Abraxas yelled as the spell nicked his once flawless face, drawing blood to spill from his forehead and dripped to the ground. Tom casted the Bat-Bogey hex and grimaced slightly at the ugly sight of bats flying out from the boys' noses.

"About not belonging in the holy house of Slytherin?" Tom continued on. He brought his wand up to give one last cut but one of the boys screamed,

"Stop! Please, stop. We give up, you win!"

The purple ball of magic that clustered itself at the tip of his wand disappeared as an evil smirk graced Tom's lips.

"That's right. You do give up. You may be a pureblood but that title means nothing. Actions speak louder than words!"

He made his point prominent as he sent a powerful stupify toward one of the Black cousins knocking him into a world of unconsciousness. He called the counter curse for the levitation spell and the group of boys dropped like a cinder block.

"Good," praised the voice. "Punish them. Show them they should never trifle with you again."

"Now you are going to listen to me," Tom growled dangerously as he poked Abraxas' airway with the tip of his wand. "You three will never speak a word of this to anyone. If you do, I swear I will track you down and whatever happens to me, I'll make sure to repay the kindness ten folds. I'll obliviate your mind to the point where you will be using diapers for the rest of your life. You can go ahead and tell on me, it's not like I will be thrown into Azkaban for defending myself against three bullies."

The pair of boys fidgeted as they tried to break lose.

"W-we-we will tell on you!" Malfoy threatened but any blind man could tell it was nothing but air behind the threat.

Tom crept closer until he could practically smell the fear and sweat dripping from the boys. He continued,

"Worst case scenario: I'll be expelled, but doesn't mean I won't still have magic and they most certainly won't kill a child off. If anything, getting expelled means there are no rules to follow, no teachers that will stop me and it just leaves me more opportunities to get you back. If you're scared of what I can already do now as a first year, think how strong I'll be later. Maybe I will wait until I am seventeen and the Trace is off. Or maybe I will take a leap of faith and get you back when you aren't expecting it. Would that not be more fun, to have to live your lives knowing someone was out there, hunting you down, watching your every waking moment? No amount of money you throw at me will stop me from keeping this promise and no amount of money spent protecting yourselves will keep this promise from happening. Do you understand?" he pushed his wand harder against Malfoy's windpipe and smiled sadistically at the end of his threat which only showed how serious and dangerous he was.

The two conscious boys nodded hastily before Tom released them from their bindings. They scurried just a few feet away, careful to avoid eye contact. Blood slowly dripped from their open wounds onto the ground and Tom rolled his eyes before waving his wand to get rid of the evidence.

"Pick up my stuff," the young wizard in command ordered. Cygnus, or Orion, got down on his knees and quickly placed Tom's school supplies neatly back into his satchel and shakingly handed it over.

"Now, get him," Tom nodded toward the unconscious boy, "out of here without being seen. And remember, not a word breathed to anyone."

The two boys nodded silently and quickly picked up the sleeping boy before walking away. Tom smirked to himself at his handy work. It was like child's play, so much so that he remembered all the time he would have to fend off Billy and his goons for-

His mind momentarily reset itself.

Hermione. She wasn't here to give him a smile. She wasn't here to tell him how much she was so grateful to have met him and that they were friends. Tom didn't get his usual reward but he did learn something: he had gotten exceptionally stronger and it was only a matter of time before he finds Hermione and when he does, nothing will separate them. If he could have it his way, not even the god of Death would be able to separate them. He would be invincible.

Tom quickly opened the entrance to the Slytherin common room and made his way up to his dorm where the rest of his roommates were sleeping soundly. He quietly tossed his things on his bed and got ready for the night. After doing so, he made for a desk sitting in his large room. If there was one thing Tom liked about Slytherin it was the rich families that pumped their money into pimping out the dorms for their precious children.

He sat down, lit a candle with his wand and dipped his quill in black ink before turning to a blank piece of parchment in front of him to rewrite his letter.

Dear Mione,

I wonder if you got any of my other letters. I hope so. Are you lonely without me? I started going to school after you left. Nothing special. Anyway, if you get this letter, write back. I know the owl might be weird and scary looking but it won't hurt you. Just don't stick your fingers near it's beak.

Tom stopped and thought for a moment. If Hermione found an owl, the first thing she would probably want to do is pet it. He grinned softly and finished his letter.

I hope this letter finds you, wherever you are now. I'll be waiting.

~T.R.

The young wizard looked at his third letter. He knew Hermione was in France and the time it took for his owl to fly such a distance took awhile, at least three days. When he didn't get a letter back the first few times, Tom thought about stopping the tedious writing but after thinking about it, his owl came back empty handed. That was better than coming back with the same letter, right? An owl wouldn't drop off a letter willy nilly; if the receiver was not there, the owl would just return with the same letter. But it came back empty handed.

That should mean something.

The next day Tom went up to the owlery and went to a familiar owl fluffing its feathers.

"Skyler," he called to his young owl and held out his right arm. The small great horned owl sung a greeting and flew over to perch himself on his master's arm. Tom quickly tied his letter securely around the bird's leg and moved toward the box of treats by an open window.

"Take this to Hermione," he ordered. Tom never did understand how owls knew where to go when he sent his letters, it would be a topic he would cover in one of his class later. All he needed to know was that the letter was getting to her.

His owl hooted toward the treat in the boy's hand, knowing the flight would be a long one. Tom willingly gave it to the bird and added, "when you find her, don't bite her. If she moves to touch you, you let her. Got it? She's not going to hurt you." The young beast made a noise to tell him he understood.

With a pushing motion of his arm, Tom sent his bird and letter off for what felt like the millionth time. He watched as the black and grey owl took flight and stood there until the bird was out of sight before facing another school day.

September 19, 1938- France

Helen slipped on a pair of oven mittens and stopped when she heard a familiar and unwanted hooting outside the window. "Carl," called the man's wife from the kitchen as she checked her pot roast for Hermione's birthday dinner. "Did you get the mail when you came in?"

"I'll get it," Hermione offered and moved off her seat to make a run for the front door.

Carl put down his newspaper. "No, Hermione. You know you can't go out by yourself when its dark out. I'll go."

"But the mailbox is only a few feet away," she pouted.

"And what if a stranger came and plucked you off with them, hmm? We wouldn't want the birthday girl to go missing on her big day. I'll go get the mail," he said again.

"But I never get the mail."

Carl stood right in front of Hermione and patted her frizzy hair. "Are you expecting a letter from someone, dear?" he asked jokingly.

"Kinda," she muttered into her shirt.

He heard her word and smiled. "You're only a child, Hermione. You will get letters when you're older. Be patient." Hermione frowned and went back to her seat.

The conversation ended there as Carl went outside and retrieved the mail. It took him less than a minute to walk twenty feet to the mailbox, take the small pile of envelopes into his callous hands and the one from the waiting bird and return. Her uncle went straight for the kitchen and Hermione quickly followed suit.

"Anything for me?" she asked. The man quickly shuffled through and gave her a sad shake of his head. She frowned.

"Just junk mail."

"Hermione, baby, would you please set the table?" Helen asked as she took out Hermione's favorite dish. The two guardians were excited to celebrate their little girl's big day that conveniently fell on a weekend this year. Hermione sighed heavily and disappeared into the dining room to do as she was told.

"What should I do with the 'junk mail'," Carl whispered to his wife when he heard the clanking of dishes being set in the other room.

Helen began slicing the perfectly cooked roast and stopped momentarily to look at the small envelope in his hand before continuing her action and casually said, "Toss it in the fireplace like the rest."

Carl did as he was told and watched as the fierce flame ate the paper like an ice cube. He joined Hermione and Helen at the table where the three dove into celebrating Hermione's birthday before the girl would have to return to school the next day.

Hogwarts

At the end of the week, Tom went back up to the owlery and found his messenger had returned empty handed again. He wrote two more letters by the end of October and another in December. Every time the owl came back empty handed, he felt a part of him chip away. The letters slowly became colder, bitter, as if he was starting to blame her for leaving him in his current state of agony. Tom began to think that she was ignoring him now.

"She must have realized how troublesome I really was," he would tell himself from time to time. "She must be laughing and rejoicing that she was finally able to get away from me."

Stop filling your head with nonsense, he scolded himself.

It was already February and still no answer.

Maybe she's dead, he thought but quickly shook his head and swore to never think that way again.

Days like these, Tom felt he should be put into a psych ward. The constant bickering of doubt in his head drove him up the wall. It was pathetic, it was unhealthy but he would do it until he reminded himself of his promise. He would find her.

He had to, and so the letters continued.

By the end of his third year, he had written and sent forty-two letters. His owl would come back without a response every time and he was tired of seeing those empty talons.

By his fifth year, the letters stopped.

Author's Note: Well, hoped you liked it. Tom meets a few new people including Malfoy and the Black cousins. Too bad they destroyed what little Tom had to remind him of Hermione. And what's with this Lucia McGroff chick all up in Tom's business?

Very Tom centered with him as a tiny first year. To put many minds at ease, I won't do every year but I stick to what I said before: the next few chapters will be Tom centered because he needs some attention, don't you all agree? No? Well, hang in there.

Thanks again for reading and reviewing and super special thanks to anyone and everyone who have recommended my story through social media. I don't have a tumblr or twitter but I have my sources and Google and whenever I find out someone mentioned this story I just get the feels, you know? :)

Until next time.