Author's Note: Hello! I knew I would get some heat on the whole owl thing along with some other bits. All I'm going to say regarding it is that everything has a reason and those reasons will be revealed eventually. Whether 'eventually' means the next chapter or the end of the story, most, if not all, will be explained. So keep that in mind as you read. I could go into a long explanation but I think you all would rather read what's below the separation line ;)

May 1942- Hogwarts

Death is a scary thing to think about, especially when you are only fifteen.

The God of Death does not know of the word 'mercy'; the word simply just isn't in his vocabulary. He is a con artist, taking lives and offering a false sense in freedom from pain, despair and guilt to make the dead accept his hand and move on. But he does not show mercy. However, that doesn't mean he won't make you think otherwise.

But not many are fond of Death. Some are frightened by the mere mention of his name, while some will go the distances to play with his patience. But in the end, Death always win. At least... that was what Tom believed until he read a book.

Tom sat in the restricted section with two books side by side. One book, an extremely dark one that held information on ancient theories, provided Tom with the answer to a problem he had wanted to solve:

How can one cheat Death?

A few hundreds of pages and paper cuts later, Tom came to a theory by a Greek dark wizard: Herpo the Foul. He was a man known for his vile curses and spells and was the first to hatch a Basilisk by placing a chicken egg under a toad. What a loon he was to create such a beast, but at the same time, what a genius.

The more Tom read about Herpo, the more intrigued the man presented himself to Tom. Tom found himself relating to the dead, Greek wizard. They were both parselmouths, they both had an 'unhealthy' curiosity and exquisite taste for the dark arts and they both wanted to cheat Death, no matter the cost. Herpo found a way and while the practical theory fell for the Greek man, Tom was determined to perfect the spell and he knew just the person to ask, the one person in the entire castle that would be the least to throw up a red flag if asked a dark question: Slughorn.

The potion professor had grown a fondness for Tom and presented himself to be the only person that could be asked such a dark question without running off to alarm anyone. He would be the perfect person to ask about the Greek wizard's invention.

But Tom didn't stop there, he was also interested in the Basilisk. After tearing through books about magical creatures, Tom came to the information on the serpant and that other than Herpo, Slytherin himself bred the same creature. But no one knew what the man did with it. Many guessed the snake was released into a cozy habitat to live on its own but after years of hired men and hunters, no one had seen the snake. Others believe Salazar had a secret room in Hogwarts where he kept many rare species for his eyes only, one being the extremely rare snake.

Now that was interesting.

But Tom wasn't finished there. Oh no, this was only the beginning. Now that he knew the snake might be somewhere in the castle, he needed someone close to Salazar to tell him where it was. This brought Tom to the other open book before his eyes. He searched and studied Salazar's family tree. There wasn't much but there was a lead. The only family known to be alive was the Gaunt family who, according to all the books in the restricted section, was announced dead. But much like Salazar's Basilisk, bodies were never found and so they could still be alive to that very day.

The Gaunt family… 'Gaunt' was his mother's last name. Tom discovered this when he broke into Mrs. Cole's office a few weeks after Hermione's departure, to look for her portfolio for an address. Much to his disappointment, there was no new address, only a small wallet size picture of Hermione that he stole. Instead of an address, he found his own records and with it, his mother's name- Merope Gaunt. Tom needed to find his mother's family- His family. He needed to know who he was. Tom could be related to Slytherin himself!

"Riddle," a voice whispered. Tom turned and saw Malfoy on the other side of the red, velvet rope that represented the entrance to the Restricted Section.

He snapped his book shut, the sound making Malfoy flinch and recoil back a step. Since their first meeting, the once bad bullies kept on Tom's good side. By the end of first year, they were on regular speaking term as if the whole ordeal was forgotten. The boys admired Tom's intelligence and Tom admired their wealth and connection. Over the years, all four boys bonded over the same distaste for muggles and eventually, muggle-born, and came together as an extremely, tight knitted circle. At the beginning of fourth year, Tom had established a group called Knights of Walpurgis where the goal was to keep magic from being tainted by weeding out non-purebloods. With Tom's brains and his followers' connections in the Wizarding world, nothing could stop them. It was a mutual, silent agreement and so, the Knights of Walpurgis was born and established.

"What Malfoy?"

"Ah- I… It's almost time to meet Slughorn so I-"

"So you came to fetch me? Do I look like a dog?" Tom sneered, driving fear deep into Malfoy's heart. It was Tom's way to keep a tight leash on his followers, to make sure they stayed in line and loyal to him. If they feared him, they won't question him and they won't leave him because the consequences would be dire. Once you were one of Tom's knights, there was no going back. They all knew that when they took their pledge.

"No Riddle. I didn't mean it like that. I-I just..."

"Be quiet, Malfoy. Your rambling only shows how much of an idiot you are and we don't need the whole world to know of your lack in brain cells."

Tom swung his legs over his bench and slipped his two books into his robe for keeps. Malfoy bowed his head slightly, not so much that the action would draw questionable attention but enough to show respect. He muttered a response to Tom and the two headed off for Slughorn's office. The potion master called a private get together with Tom and his circle of followers. It had been a long time since Hogwarts had so many students from highly influential families at one time and Slughorn wanted to make a good impression as well as offer an advance invitation to his club next year.

The temptation of having his name known for teaching the heirs to wealthy families of the Sacred Twenty-Eight was too good to pass up and Slughorn wanted to get his claws in the boys. First impressions were important when it came to making your way up the ladder to fame. While Tom's history and background were a mystery, anyone could see Tom was the ring leader of his friends. With a flawless record stacked on top of his impressive academics, Slughorn couldn't help but be drawn to Tom. Being known for teaching the powerful was nice, but being known for teaching someone who no one knew and have them come into power was so much sweeter. Everyone loves an underdog and Slughorn had his eyes set on Tom.

"Did you get what I asked?" Tom asked as the two wizards flew down the stairs to the dungeons.

"Yes," Malfoy responded and handed Tom a box of sweets which he snatched away.

The two turned a corner and saw the Black cousins along with some new 'friends' Tom adopted into the group. The two boys went by their surname, Avery and Lestrange. All four boys straightened up to their heights at the sight of Tom walking down the halls with an authoritative aura around him.

"Good evening," their ring leader greeted. They all muttered a returned greeting and shifted uncomfortably.

"What do you think Slughorn wants with us?" Lestrange asked.

Cygnus and Orion shrugged like twins. "Probably going to reprimand us for not handing something in on time again. Oh- of course, not you, Tom," Orion quickly added. "I'm- um- sure Slughorn is just going to... uh-" he stuttered nervously, unable to string a comprehensible sentence under Tom's unforgiving look.

Tom sent him an icy glare to shut the boy's mouth up as the group fell into a tense silence. Tom looked away and knocked on the thick door. They all marched in with Tom leading the way when Slughorn invited them inside. The man practically melted when Tom handed him the box of treats before diving into two hours of chatting them up about his stupid club. Tom tuned out most of the conversation, his mind wandering back and forth between the question he would ask Slughorn and the inevitable summer coming soon. He suppressed a groan as he thought about spending another three miserable months in the dreary orphanage. He would probably stay in his room for most of the time, using a pencil or stick to practice wand strokes for new spells instead of his wand that would be confiscated at the end of the year.

Why did Dumbledore have to take his wand away during the summer? It was one accident. One slip up. It was the summer of his second year when all the boys decided to gang up on Tom, saying how he thought he was all special for going to school far away. The group of boys found him in the living room in his chair when Mrs. Cole was away doing errands. They ordered the younger orphans to leave so that there would be no witnesses. Then, they cornered Tom, threw him against a wall and yelled at him. That was harmless. But then they started to hit Tom because it was four against one. That was when it happened.

It was a slip up on his part but Tom was just trying to protect himself.

He just had a moment of anger and panic. Tom pulled his wand and used a spell to knock Aaron away from him. He didn't mean to knock the boy straight into the fireplace giving him third degree burns on his arm. They shouldn't have riled Tom up. They shouldn't have tried to corner and beat Tom for being different. He warned them when they were kids to leave him alone but they didn't listen. Tom was completely innocent but that didn't change the fact it was Tom who threw the boy into the fireplace, accident or not. Aaron was rushed to the hospital for treatment and Dumbledore rushed to the orphanage to confiscate Tom's wand with a harsh warning of expulsion.

After that, Mrs. Cole hired some muscle to assist her with punishments. The woman looked like she would be pushing daisies soon. If one of the newer orphans ran into her, Mrs. Cole would probably be rushed to the hospital with a broken hip. It was only time the woman hired some back up muscles.

The man punished kids left and right. No dolls, no toys, no books, no meals... the man was a down right Grinch twenty-four seven. He also wasn't afraid to inflict physical punishment, something Mrs. Cole turned her cheek to, and unfortunately, Tom experienced those physical abuse more times than all the other boys' punishments combined.

For once, Tom was glad Hermione wasn't at the orphanage anymore. The man didn't stop from beating girls either, although that was pretty rare. Still, Tom would probably snap the man's neck if he laid a striking hand on Hermione.

Slughorn threw up a lame joke and Tom gave a pity chuckle to show he was paying attention to whatever the older man had said. The potion professor looked pleased by Tom's action and continued on with a story, shoving sweets into his face the whole time as Tom's mind wandered back to the orphanage.

Three months was a long time. He couldn't even keep his owl; another brilliant punishment inflicted onto Tom. Since the owl was bought with Hogwarts's money, the owl technically belonged to the school when school was out. Dumbledore, who took it upon himself to act as some kind of parol officer, said that with good behavior, Tom would be allowed to keep his owl after graduation but until then, Tom only had Skyler during the school year.

Three months without magic.

He couldn't stand the thought so he turned his attention back on his potion professor who made a comment about the pineapple flavored treat being his favorite. Tom gave him an award winning smile and focus on what he had to do tonight. Herpo the Foul invented an object to cheat Death and Tom needed to know more about it. He still had a month before he would have to go back to the orphanage and he would make every moment count.

France

"Hermione! Where are you going now? We have ten minutes before class starts."

Hermione turned around to face her friend, a huge smile on her face as several students in their blue uniforms flutter about to get to their next class.

"To the owlery. I'll be only a minute."

"Again?" her friend asked in disbelief. "You go up there every day. This isn't about that mysterious boy from back home that you absolutely refuse to talk about, is it?" The smile on Hermione's face grew even bigger and her friend couldn't help but smile along and shake her head. "Alright, I'll stall for as long as I can but hurry up!"

"Thanks, Carol," Hermione yelled to her Veela friend as she ran down the hall. She quickly made her way up a tall spiral staircase until she was in a room with the walls painted to look like the blue sky.

"Felix?" she called out for her owl. A pure white snow owl flew down from his resting spot and landed on a wooden perch next to Hermione. She went over and gave his head a loving scratch. "Hi boy, I have another letter for you." It hooted angrily, knowing who exactly it was for and the exhausting trip it would surely make. "Oh don't be a baby."

It hooted again and turned its head to an extreme degree that owls could do to show its disobedience. Hermione placed her fingers back on its head and rubbed that sweet spot that make her owl purr and weak in the legs before offering it a treat. The bird was no match for the combination and Hermione quickly tied her letter to its leg before it could change its mind.

"You are so lucky, you know that, Felix?" Her owl hopped onto her forearm as it was carried over to a door nearby. "You get to fly and go to new places. I don't even learn how to apparate for a few more years and Madame Lynch said she wouldn't teach me until next year. But that's only a year away. Then I can go to London, right?"

Her owl hooted as if to say, "right." Probably out of the hopeful idea that it wouldn't have to make extensive, international flights if its owner learned to apparate.

"Do you think I should let Lynch teach me to become an animagus? I swear the woman drives me up a wall every time she opens her mouth. She seemed so sweet when we first met and now she treats me like a beaten fight dog. All I do is eat, sleep, study, practice spells after classes with her for hours and then repeat. It's only a miracle that I made any friends with her breathing down my neck. Don't get me wrong," she quickly added as she continued her rant, "I love learning all these new spells from her. The extra work actually helps with my final exams but she could at least give me a break every now and then."

Her owl kept silent. Hermione had a moment to think how ridiculous she must look talking to her owl, but that never stopped her from continuing. Felix was the one creature she had poured her life out to mostly because owls couldn't speak. If she told any of this to Carol, the girl would run down the corridors throwing flyers with Hermione's biography.

"Some time I wish I could turn into an animal. Madame Lynch said she could probably teach me in half the time it would normally take. The only thing I would have to do is quit school, divorce my aunt and uncle and lock myself up in a room with her forever," she laughed weakly at the thought. "Maybe I'll be something with working wings or gills and I can swim over."

Her owl gave her that blank, owl look. "You're right, the possibility of that would be slim, especially with her hawk eyes watching every move I make. I wouldn't be able to make it pass the anti-apparition wards."

Hermione twisted a door knob and stepped onto the balcony where a warm, spring breeze engulfed her momentarily. She sighed and looked at her owl that spread out its wings to allow the breeze to fluffy its feathers.

"It's been four years since I've started school, Felix. It's been so long and I'm tired of waiting. I've sent him so many letters with my address and life here. I've lost count how many I have sent. It's already nearing the end of the year too. You're not scaring him, are you?"

It made a growling noise as if trying to say how hurt it was for Hermione to assume such a thing.

"Alright, I'm sorry. You are much too sweet to do anything bad like that." She scratched under the owl's neck and it purred, making her chuckle. "Sometimes I wonder if you're really a bird or a cat in disguise." Her owl snapped its beak and spread its wings again to help her distinguish between a majestic bird and a domesticated feline.

"There's no way Tom would be scare of you, he's not afraid of anything. But then… do you think he's scared of me, of my magic? Maybe he thinks I've gone mad with all this magic talk and doesn't want to talk to me anymore. Or maybe… you don't think Tom forgot about me, do you, Felix?"

Hermione looked at her owl as it dramatically turned its head from side to side as if to show off the extent it can turn its head to cheer her up. She smiled and leaned down to plant a quick kiss on her owl's head, something her friends have scolded her about, saying it was highly unhygienic. Hermione didn't care and neither did her owl.

"Maybe this time," she whispered hopefully and her owl took it as its cue to take flight.

Hermione watched until Felix blended into the clouds, out of sight, and waited a bit longer to enjoy the cool breeze, knowing fully well she was late for class.

"Maybe this time."

Hogwarts

Tom found Malfoy in their dorm room with a book on his lap and a pencil between his white teeth, chewing at it like corn on the cob. The moment Tom entered, the blond boy looked up, shock clear on his face, and straightened himself up. Tom tossed an item across the room and Malfoy caught it with ease. He looked down at a corked, medium size vial with what looked like green vomit in it. He looked back up to Tom with a confused look.

"I'm going somewhere after dinner tonight. You are to drink that after curfew and sit in the common room so that no one suspects where I am."

"Where are you going?"

"Out," was all Tom bothered to give. "I will be back late but you only need to sit in the common room long enough so that no one questions my lack of presence. I don't need more people breathing down my neck."

Malfoy eyed the vials contents. "And what's in this?"

Tom smirked. "Polyjuice. It's looks and smells pretty foul so I would suggest taking it in one gulp." Malfoy nodded as he tried to suppress his shiver of disgust toward the potion. "Take it after dinner where no one will see the transformation and do not speak to anyone."

Malfoy looked nervously at the flask in his hands. "What should I do if I… run into trouble?"

Tom thought for a moment and then lowered himself to eye level and pulled his wand before whispering darkly, "Would you like me to give you a preview if such a thing were to happen?"

An audible gulp sounded and Malfoy shook his head. "N-no. You can count on me."

"Good. Do not tell anyone else about this, including the others."

"Yes, Riddle."

Tom looked around toward Malfoy's nightstand and saw something expensive that caught his eye. It was a large, thick, gold and emerald ring with a small 'M' for the Malfoy Family crest engraved into the green gem. Tom accio-ed it over, earning a bewildered and pleading look from Malfoy.

"A collateral. Fulfill your assignment to my expectation and you will have nothing to worry about." Malfoy just nodded while Tom slipped the ring into his pocket for safe keeping. "Come along, I don't want to miss dinner," Tom ordered and made his way out of the room with his blond dog on his heel.

An hour and a half later, Tom found himself outside the entrance to the kitchen. He opened it slowly and peeked inside to see if there was anyone roaming about. The room only contained elves. Perfect.

Tom brought his wand over his head and clocked himself under a disillusionment charm before he walked inside. He strolled over to the most isolated elf in the room and pointed his wand toward the bat eared creature.

"Imperio!" he whispered.

A rainbow mist rained down on the elf's head and his glass orbs dulled sweetly under the trance. Tom held out a Hufflepuff scarf he stole from a first year toward the tiny creature.

"Take the scarf," Tom ordered. The elf did as it was told. "Good, you are free now and are no longer bound to Hogwarts. You will come with me and apparate to where I need to go. You will do whatever I say unless I say otherwise. Nod if you understand."

The elf nodded slowly at the voice inside its head.

"Good, take my hand and apparate me to Little Hangleton. Now."

The elf took Tom's hand and pulled him into the apparition vortex. Seconds later, Tom found himself lying on cold, wet grass, panting heavily. He had never apparated before and quite frankly, Tom felt like he was about to lose his dinner. He stayed completely still, fighting his body's need to gag but after a few minutes of heavy breathing, the unpleasant urged passed and Tom made his way to his feet. He turned to the elf that stood still, looking up to the moon.

"Go hide somewhere until I call you. Don't let anyone see you."

The elf turned and nodded once before disappearing with a 'pop'. Tom brushed himself clean and made his way into the tiny village. It was quiet but the village was still awake with a few people doing their own thing.

"Riddle!" an angry voice yelled from the side. Tom turned his head and saw a large, muscular man charging toward him with a small axe. The man resembled a stampeding bull with the way his nostrils flared and this mouth bared his sharp, canine teeth. Tom backed away a few steps but the man sped up and grabbed a tight, fistful of Tom's robes before slamming the boy against a house wall.

"You got a lot of nerve showing your face around here!" the man roared into Tom's face, his foul breath suffocating Tom. He raised his sharp weapon and Tom's eyes widen.

"Wait! My name isn't Riddle!" Tom yelled. The axe halted in the air but the man pulled Tom forward a bit only to push him back to his previous spot. The axe slowly came down and suddenly, Tom's chin was lifted by the cold metal head of the weapon for the man to get a better look. After what felt like an eternity of breathing in the man's foul breath, the grip on Tom's robes loosen.

"Sorry, boy. You look exactly like that no good for nothin' Riddle."

"Yeah…" was all Tom said as he straightened his clothes out.

"What's a boy like you doing out so late at night?"

"I-I'm looking for someone. Do you know anyone by the name of Gaunt?"

The man's eyes widened to saucers. "Wha-what are you doing looking for a poor, twisted family like that?"

Twisted? Poor? The Gaunt family was one of the Sacred Twenty-Eights. There was no way they could be poor. Weren't all pureblood families supposed to be rich? Especially one that is a descendant from Slytherin himself?

"I'm here to collect something of mine."

A sound came from the man's mouth that sounded like a cross between a cough and a huff. "Look, kid. They don't exist anymore, alright? After that pretty little lady's marriage scandal, the Riddle's ran them out of town and last I heard, they ran into the woods and lived in a shack. But no one has ever seen them. Whatever it is they owe you, they probably don't have it. Just go home."

What marriage scandal was he talking about? What did he mean they were run out of town? He needed to know. The man mentioned a family called Riddle. Does that mean his father was here too?

He heart clenched. "Do you know where I can find the Riddles?"

The man's face morphed into an angry scowl. "Why would you want to know something like that?"

"I told you already. I am looking for the Gaunts but if they are already dead like you claim, I might as well collect what is mine from the people who chased them out."

The man looked over Tom for a few moments and then he barked out a laugh. "Alright, kid. Do what you need to but I'll warn you and say that the Riddles are a no good bunch of swine. They won't listen to a brat like you."

"Whatever, just point me in the right direction."

"Whatever you say." The man lifted a lazy finger and pointed it toward a slim structure that poked above the forest. "See that small tower thing up there? Just walk straight through the forest for a bit and you can't miss it."

"Thanks," Tom mumbled and started his trip. A few moments later, Tom stood in front of a rotted door attached to a run-down mansion. A mansion. Tom could hardly believe it. He raised a fist and knocked three times. It was a while before he heard soft shuffling and then the door cracked open.

"Yes? What can I-" The blue eyes that looked at him disappear when the person slammed the door shut. A bit surprised, Tom knocked again but the door didn't open. "What do you want?" he heard them say through the door.

"Is this the house of Riddle?"

"Who's asking?"

"Uh..."

Great. Do I tell them my real name? They already don't seem to like me. Actually, they don't seem to like people in general. Do I tell them my real motives, that I'm looking for my father?

No, not yet.

"I'm looking for the Gaunts. I heard you people ran them out and I need to find them."

A pregnant pause came and then the voice said, "What business do you have with those appalling monsters?"

Monster? Tom felt a dull sting through his body. Were these people… muggles?

"They have something that's mine. I came to take it back from those… monsters," he choked out the last word.

Another unbearable pause and then Tom heard the lock click and the door swung open but there were no blue eyes to greet him this time.

"Come in," he heard them call and he did so.

While the outside looked like a tornado slammed into it, the inside of the mansion was quite beautiful even if it was covered in dust and cobwebs. The ceiling was high, there were crystal chandeliers hanging and the walls were lined with large pictures of people he didn't recognize. It sort of reminded Tom of Hogwarts but the pictures didn't move.

Muggles, Tom concluded.

He made his way into a large sitting room where three people sat in their own chairs. They all looked up to him.

"Who are you?" one of them said.

"He is looking for the Gaunts. Said they owed him something," another spoke. He recognized it to be the person that greeted him. She was an old woman, ancient really, by the look of her wrinkled bags of skin that made Mrs. Cole look thirty years younger in comparison. The other one was a man who looked just as old as the woman.

"The Gaunts?" the man laughed. "Those barbarians own nothing but that dinky little hut in the woods. Maybe if you ask nicely they can give you that, right Tommy boy?"

Tom stiffened. What did that man just call him?

"The boy is lying, father," the third person spoke. Tom turned his attention to the third party and zipped his lips shut to hide his gasp of surprise. There in a black, leather chair sat a man that looked like an older version of Tom. The man glared at him with dark, black eyes as if trying to size him up.

"What do you mean he's a liar, Tommy?"

"I mean," the man said as he took a pause to gulp down a mouth full of what Tom could only assume to be alcohol in his short, cylindrical cup, "he is a liar. Like his filthy mother."

Tom's right hand subconsciously hovered over the pocket holding his wand, twitched to take hold of it and curse the man.

"You think you could trick your way in here?" he asked.

"It worked, didn't it?" Tom replied. The man smirked.

"Such a clever boy. So you finally tracked me down, did you? Did your mother send you here so that we could have a hug fest? How is the old cow doing? Probably spreading her legs for every muggle willing to swallow her poison."

Tom's head was swirling. Was this really his father?

"She's dead. She-" Tom was cut off by the laughter of his father. His eyes widen and he took a step back at the surprising action. Why was he laughing? Why was the man who was supposedly his father laughing at the news of his mother's death?

Why?

His father's laughter died down. "That is the best news I have heard in a long time. Actually, it might just take the whole damn cake. So if your mother didn't send you, what are you doing here?"

"I-I…" Tom didn't know the answer, really. What was he supposed to say? I'm here so we can be a family, father, and then they hug and all is forgotten? From his father's bizarre behavior and obvious disgust, Tom knew the chances of that were completely unlikely. Although he wasn't a wizard, Tom's father seemed to be able to read his son's mind.

"You were expecting a loving family. Well, sorry to break your heart but I didn't want you before and I still don't want you now."

Tom thought he was going to faint. There were so many things going through his mind, so many emotions racking his body, paralyzing him completely. The air felt polluted and he couldn't breathe, he couldn't even talk.

The man used Tom's moment of silence to go in for the kill. "Poor little boy. What did she name you anyway? Probably something stupid from the atrocious world she comes from. So what is it, kid?"

Tom forced himself to breathe deeply to keep his light headedness from getting any lighter. "It's Tom Riddle."

The whole room filled with ridicule laughter at his answer and a single clapping. "Wow! Did you hear that mum, dad? The witch named her spawn after me. I'm so honored." Tom took another step away. "Why so quiet, son?"

Tom winced.

"What do you want, boy? What are you still doing here? Go. Leave!" he yelled suddenly, getting to his feet and taking a fire iron from the fireplace. He walked toward Tom with a snarl on his face and began swinging like a rabid animal. "Leave me! Don't ever come back! I never want to see your worthless face! I NEVER WANT TO-"

Tom couldn't hear the rest of his father's rage as he ran out of the house and through the thick forest. He needed to get away from the mansion. He needed to get away from them. Tom couldn't believe it. His father was a muggle. Tom had muggle blood coursing through his veins. The same blood as that monster back there! He needed to run. Tom needed to get away from it all.

His feet flew and his lungs burned. His black shoes dug into the soft dirt as he soared across the forest floor, maneuvering around trees and jumping over stumps. When his body was at its limit, Tom stopped and pressed himself up again a cool tree trunk. He breathed heavily, sucking in lungs full of cold, stabbing air.

What was Tom even doing here? Oh right. The Gaunt family. He sighed and lifted his head. Like one of those ridiculous fairy tale stories he had read back in the orphanage, there was a small shack conveniently a few feet in front of him. Tom scoffed. Was he now a damsel in distress? Would he just march into the place and expect seven dwarves to take care of him while he waits for his "true love" to come save him from a life of cooking and cleaning clothes that would fit a toddler?

Ridiculous.

Not wanting to chance a repeat encounter, Tom pulled out his wand and crept closer to the door that had a vine pinned in the middle. Actually, at a closer glance, Tom realized it was a dead snake hanging from the rusty screw. Odd, weren't these people related to Salazar Slytherin himself? Tom moved away from the door and peeked through a window.

It was dark inside but there was a sliver of light poking through a window on the other side. In the far corner, Tom saw movement. It looked like someone in a rocking chair. A shack in the forest outside of the village? This must be where the Gaunts live.

Tom silently made his way back to the door. Without knocking, he took hold on the cold door knob and slowly turned it before allowing the door to swing open. He raised his wand just a bit before stepping in.

"Hello?" he called out. "I'm looking for the Gaunt family."

The person in the rocking chair stopped. Tom could see them turn their head toward him and then a hand moved to their pocket. The next seconds happened so fast as the person shot to their feet and charged for Tom.

"I'll kill you!" they roared. "I WILL KILL YOU, RIDDLE!" Tom saw them raise their hand and a green light collected at the tip of their wand.

A wizard.

"Avada-"

Tom reacted swiftly. "Expelliarmus!"

The magical weapon was ripped out of the man's hand and landed softly into Tom's but it didn't stop the man from charging toward him. Tom sent a simple stunner and the disarmed man was knocked back before slamming into a wall where he slumped down to the ground defeated. Tom took a few calming breathing, inhaling the foul stench of booze and urine, before following the man in but then stopped when he heard the man hiss.

"Must kill Riddle. Must kill him. Revenge… reason for life now… reason for my unhappiness."

Tom instantly knew he was a parselmouth too.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," Tom said in their shared language. The man stopped his personal chanting and looked up as if hearing Tom speak the language of snakes had sobered him.

"Speak again."

Tom did. "Are you a Gaunt?"

"... Yes."

"Are you… the only one left?" The man turned away and shuffled toward a broken window as if to escape. "Don't go. I mean no harm. I only have questions and then I will leave."

The man stopped moving. He stared at Tom as if the boy was growing a cactus flower from his head. "You look like him, the muggle. Like…"

"Like the man in the mansion."

The man roared. "He ruined everything! He took my sister away. My family went… they went insane. So much violence. Mum was never the same. Dad killed her… sister gone. Left one night and took Slytherin's locket with her. Dad, Marvolo, killed her..." he rambled to himself before looking back at Tom. "You look like him."

"I know… what is your name?"

"Morfin," he answered although it came out more like a question. Luckily, he didn't ask for Tom's name in return.

"You are Salazar's descendent." The man nodded. "Slytherin had a Basilisk rumored to be under Hogwarts. Do you know where it is? Morfin shook his head and began to rock back and forth as he played with a ring on his right index finger.

"Salazar was a mad man- a quiet mad man- who shouldn't have played with stuff out of his league. That man, Herpo… he was a no good rotten... His books taught Salazar dark magic. Very dark magic that Salazar kept in his journal on the shelf." He held it toward Morfin but the man flinched away. "No! Slytherin's evil book. I don't want it. It's filled with evil, dark magic."

"Was one of those dark magic called a Horcrux?"

Morfin stopped rocking and slowly turned his head toward Tom who gulped down his nervousness. Why did he have to ask so bluntly? Damn it! He just wanted to get the information and go.

"Evil they are, Horcruxes. Split souls, cheat Death… nothing but rubbish. Herpo died because his soul was unstable. He didn't know the body had to be warm. You have to do it fast. You have to do it quick. The quicker the better. Better with less pain… Herpo was a fool! All hail Salazar."

Tom couldn't help but think getting information out of this mad man would take forever. "What else did Herpo forget to do? What else is needed?"

Morfin made his way for his chair and began to rock in it as he kept playing with his ring. "Warm body… item for soul!" he yelled and then quieted down to a whispering mutter. Tom took a few feather steps closer to hear. "To kill without remorse, without guilt, without any feelings but hate and anger. Put magic in vessel and kill, kill, KILL… the recipe for a horcrux."

That was it. This was what Tom came here for: to find out about the horcruxes and the Basilisk. He got his answer so why didn't he turn to run out of that hell hole?

Maybe because he still had family.

"You look like him," Tom heard Morfin repeat. The creaking of the chair stopped as the two looked at each other. "Your face, your hair… you look like him… but-" he reached out and ghosted Tom's cheek with a dirty finger. "You have the eyes of a Gaunt. You have the eyes of Slytherin himself."

Tom's heart rate spiked. The man pulled away as if Tom's skin burned him until there were several feet of distance between the two.

"Who are you?" Morfin finally asked, his eyes swimming over Tom warily. "Tell me!" he shouted when Tom didn't answer. The man was unstable and while Tom held both wands, he still worried about his own safety.

Should I tell him?

"Why not?"

Tom rolled his eyes at the dark voice in his head. Maybe because he looks like he's ready to rip my throat out?

"Don't you want to know the truth? About your family? About your mother?"

Tom didn't know. But… maybe he did.

"My mother was Merope Gaunt," he said. Tom held his breath and watched as the man froze as if someone had casted the full body binding spell on him. The hut was filled with an unbearable silence.

"You're… my sister's son? Tom Marvolo Riddle? YOU'RE my sister's son?"

Marvolo? Was that his middle name?

Tom didn't answer Morfin. He knew it was a rhetorical question by the way Morfin's voice raised two octaves. Tom gripped his wand tighter.

"Get out. Get out of here!"

"P-please I just-"

"NO!" Morfin screamed. "You ruined my life! You killed my sister with your father's filthy blood running through your veins!" An old vase near the window exploded but Tom didn't flinch as he kept his eyes on the mad man. "You sullied my family's pureblood line!"

"But it wasn't-"

"I don't care! I don't want to listen to you. I don't want to see you anymore. You look like your filthy father. He's was a worthless muggle. A fly to flick away and yet that insect brought us down. He brought down my powerful family to our knees. He was nothing. And you are his son. You are less than nothing. WORTHLESS!"

Morfin got to his feet and ran to his sink where he grabbed a knife. Without a moment's notice, the older man charged for Tom again but Tom was ready. He quickly twirled his wand, simultaneously disarming the man again and sent him flying across the room. Tom then sent a spell to pin the man to the wall.

"Calm down, Morfin-"

"Don't you dare sully my name with your filthy tongue. Go back where you came from, back to the muggle world. Maybe you'll find yourself a muggle girl and follow your mother's footsteps and drug her with a love potion. It was the only way your father could ever return her feelings. Go on, boy. Leave! Your muggle whore is waiting for you somewhere."

Tom pointed his wand squarely at the defenseless man. At his uncle. His rage sparked at the thought of him calling Hermione a whore. He was in rage at Morfin calling him worthless and giving him the boot like his father. Why couldn't he just have a family like everyone else? Why didn't anyone want him? Why couldn't everyone just leave him alone!

"What are you going to do with that?" Morfin asked, eyeing the white wand with droopy eyes. "You gonna curse me like my dad? He gave me a good whipping for not protecting Merope. He blamed me and then my mother hated me. And then they died and left me…" He was quiet for a bit and Tom wondered if he would calm down enough to talk reasonably. He was disappointed.

"Don't look at me, boy… I said don't look at me!" Morfin spat at Tom's feet, missing his muddy shoes by half a foot. "You have your mother's eyes and I can't stand them looking at me. Go find your slut and leave me in peace."

"Shut up!" Tom yelled, reverting back to English.

Morfin actually did shut up, for a moment. He looked at Tom and for some reason smiled. "Oh. Oooh I see. You have found a muggle whore haven't you? One that's pretty like Merope?"

Tom didn't answer but that was enough of an answer for his uncle.

"What are you doing with her? Have you given her a love potion? Are you planning on marrying her and came to claim the house of Gaunt? Well," he said, wiggling his fingers against the wall as his limbs were still pinned, "it's all yours! What a fantastic honeymoon this will be!" he laughed. "But… what if she becomes pregnant? What if you take her off the potion's effects and she realizes the monster you are? What would you do? Drug her again? Like mother like son," Morfin growled, snapping his teeth like a rabid dog. "But you'll find a smart one, won't you. She'll leave you, baby and all."

"Be quiet!" Tom roared.

He couldn't stand the thought of reuniting with Hermione only to feed her a potion to accept his true self. He would never do that. But… but he didn't want Hermione to leave him. What if she didn't accept his magical self? What if she was repulse like his father toward his mother. Would she leave him? Would he allow that?

"You will end up alone with nothing. You will die alone with nothing. A disgraceful spawn, you are. What's your girl's name? Doesn't matter, actually. She'll leave you. You'll get her pregnant and think she'll stay because of the baby but she'll leave you in a heartbeat. But maybe she'll be smart and go to a clinic."

"Don't say anything else!"

"Your mum was not even sixteen when she ran off and drugged your father. They lived together for years until the birds and the bees took action. He laughed. "Maybe your girl will be smarter than my sister and kill the baby!"

"Diffindo!"

In a diagonal, downward motion, a purple blade came out and cut Morfin's throat. Surprised by his action, Tom released the spell holding his uncle and the man fell to the ground as he choked and gurgled on his blood. Tom didn't move a finger to help undo what he did. On the contrary, Tom stood high and looked down at the man as he extended a hand to grab Tom's ankles in a desperate attempt to do further damage to Tom.

Death does not know mercy and neither did Tom.

Instead of stepping back, Tom lifted his right foot and stomped down on Morfin's hand, causing the man to scream with a lung full of blood. A few minutes later, Morfin became still and realization sunk in.

What did I do? What did I just do?

"You killed him like he deserved."

But… he was my uncle. He was-

"Family does not treat each other like trash. He saw you as trash, Tom. He insulted you, your mother; he even insulted Hermione."

Hermione.

"That's right. Sweet, little Hermione. He called her a whore. A slut! No one talks that way about you or her. He deserved to die."

Tom thought about that last sentence. "He deserved to die." Did he? Did he really deserve such a fate? Damn it, this was all too confusing!

Tom took a step away from the body, and then another and another until his back met a wall. There was so much blood on the floor. It kept pouring out like an open fire hydrate and puddled around Morfin's body. Tom killed someone. He actually killed someone. All those threats as a kid, all those empty hot words he used to put fear into people- people like boys at the orphanage and Malfoy and the Black cousins- all so that they would leave him alone. He never thought he would actually kill someone.

But he did and the evidence was on the ground, clear as day.

Tom stood there for a while as he watched the body bleed out. He felt numb and his mind raced around one word: Horcrux. Could he make one in such a state of mind? No, Tom couldn't even move a finger. He had to keep reminding himself to breathe for goodness sake! But he wanted to try. After giving Death a helping hand with his uncle, Tom didn't want the same fate to fall on himself. He didn't want to die in his own warm blood as his killer watched from above. No.

He needed to make a horcrux. He needed to cheat Death.

Tom took a deep breath and willed himself to move toward the dead body. How long had it been laying there? How long had Tom been standing where he was trapped in his own daze? Was the body still warm? A warm body meant less pain and splitting one's soul didn't sound very pleasant to begin with. It would probably hurt like hell, but Tom needed to do this.

With hesitant steps, Tom made his way toward Morfin and bent down to touch his skin. It was cold.

Great, he missed his chance. Then again...

Tom looked at Morfin and his outstretched hand, the one with the ring the man was playing with before. It had a thick, gold band with a large black stone on top. It looked expensive. Perhaps it was a family heirloom. Perfect for a horcrux.

Tom slipped the ring off of the stiff finger and pocketed it along with Slytherin's dairy. He then ran out of the shack and made his way into the woods, leaving the foul place behind.

Tom broke through the forest and entered the clearing that was Riddle Mansion's front yard. He quickly flew toward the door with his uncle's wand in hand. No way would anyone be able to track the spell he had in mind with his own wand. With a flick of his wrist, the grand front doors burst open and Tom walked through and headed straight for the room that was occupied by the one person he wanted to see. Another flick of his wrist and a set of doors opened again and Tom stepped into the warm and dusty room.

"Hello, father."

Tom heard a chorus of gasps.

"What are you doing here again?" Tom's grandfather shouted with a cough. "Didn't you hear us earlier? Get the hell out of here."

The young Riddle narrowed his eyes and pointed his wand at the man before bringing it up in an arch and across the room. As if the elder man was tied by an invisible lasso, the man lifted up high into the air and followed Tom's wand movement, slamming into the wall roughly and dropped to the floor, dead. Tom repeated this action on his equally frail grandmother and the woman died on the other side of the room. All that was left were the two Tom Riddles in the room.

"Father," Tom repeated the word.

"What do you want now?" he asked before taking a sip of his alcoholic beverage. It was as if he was completely unfazed that his parents just died right in front of his eyes. "Did you come back to apologize?"

Apologize? What on Earth did Tom have to apologize for?

"Why do you hate me so much? What did I ever do to you?"

The man chuckled for a moment and then schooled his face. "Nothing."

Nothing? Tom repeated silently. "Then why do you claim to hate me?"

"Oh, I wasn't claiming," his father said all too painfully easily. "I do hate you. I hate that your mother poison me with the magic crap. I hate that she took away my life to fulfill her own sick fantasy and I hate that she made me give myself to her so she could have you."

"None of that is my fault," Tom gritted.

"No, I suppose it isn't," he said pensively. "But I don't care. You sicken me just like her. She gave you my skin, my hair, my blood- and then she named you after me? Ha!" He threw his head back to laugh. Tom tighten his grip on Morfin's wand until his knuckles turned white and his nails embedded small crescents into his palm.

"You were the one who ran away, not her," Tom pointed out as if trying to protect his mother. Maybe he was just protecting himself.

"I don't care if she would have shrunken the moon and have given it to me on a silver platter. You walk in here claiming to be my son but I have no son! You are nothing to me. You will never mean anything to me and I don't want anything to do with you and your whore of a mother!"

"Don't you dare talk badly of my mother! She was a direct descendant from the greatest wizard in history-"

"She was a filthy whore! She was so desperate for a good fuck that she had to drug me and then when she got pregnant she thought I would just run straight into her arms like all was forgiven. But I was smart, see? I left when I could. I got out of there. I didn't want her and I definitely don't want you. You will end up like your pathetic mother. Alone, sad, desperate for something you will never get because there's no one in their right mind that would ever love a dirty, worthless, bastard chi-"

"Avada Kedavra!"

The green spell flew forward and slammed into the man's chest, taking his life instantly. Tom gasped and dropped his wand before dropping to his knees. He just killed someone again… he just killed his father. And with the most forbidden curse!

But he didn't feel remorse. He didn't feel guilty.

Tom's heart iced over long ago and he couldn't feel anything anymore.

"The ritual," reminded the dark voice. "Quickly."

The ritual… right.

Tom took out his uncle's ring and channeled some of his magic into the object until it hummed with the mystic energy. When Tom splits his soul, it will go into the closest magical vessel. He looked at his dead father, his eyes still open and shocked.

"Quickly!"

Tom shook his head to focus. He pointed his wand at his father's body and chanted the spell that would split his soul. When the last syllable left his lips, the ring and his father's dead body started to glow in unison. He felt a tight sting in his chest and closed his eyes to block out the pain. But then that sting sensation doubled and he felt something rumble in his chest as it shoved his organs against his body cavity. It crept up his throat like vomit and Tom couldn't fight it down. He threw his head back, arm swung out to the side as his back arched sharply and black smoke came out of his mouth with a scream. He watched through watery eyes as the plumb of his soul extracted itself from his body.

He couldn't breathe or make a sound to yell in pain. All he could do was endure and blink away the tears. A sharp sensation ripped into Tom's body like he was just pierced with a spear to the heart.

Tom continued to open his mouth in a silent scream for what felt like hours of unimaginable pain and then, just as fast as snapping one's fingers, the awful sensation lifted and Tom collapsed to the ground sucking in lung full of air, his limbs twitching from the aftershocks running through his body.

He felt lighter, but different. Looking over to his ring, Tom wondered if the spell worked or if it was a dud and he just put himself through excruciating pain for nothing. He reached over and the ring hummed with warmth in his hand.

It worked.

Tom fell on top of the kitchen elf as they came out of the apparition vortex. He still wasn't used to traveling by such methods. The elf below him squeaked and Tom moved off the creature before quickly obliterating its mind and planted false one to make it think it had been just a normal day. For all it knew, it was never freed by Tom and still bounded to the school. The elf asked Tom if he wanted any food but Tom just stormed out of the kitchen, leaving the tiny elf to go back to its duties.

His feet flew as he was brought closer to his common room. He couldn't stop thinking about tonight. He couldn't stop thinking about his father's words.

He's lying. I won't end up alone. I won't be like my mother and I won't ever be like my filthy, muggle father! Tom chanted as he ran back to the safety of his common room. Compared to what he just went through, sneaking back to his common room without being noticed was a walk in the park. There were some close calls but nothing to really slow him down.

He whispered the password and stepped into the green and silver themed room. He felt at home and took a breath of relief. He made it.

The room was cold and abandon. It was almost midnight. Tom walked over to a black couch, waving his wand to light the fireplace for warmth. He was tired beyond the breaking point and needed to sit down to take in what happened.

He met his family. He met his father and uncle! And… and he killed them. He killed both of them and used one to make his first horcrux. But didn't he get what he wanted? He found a way to cheat Death. The proof was right there, humming around his middle finger as he could feel his soul whispering to him, calling out for him. Looking back, both his uncle and father did get what they deserved. They called him worthless, disgusting, a disgrace. They blamed him for things that weren't in his power. They…

They insulted me and Hermione.

Hermione. God, how did tonight end up like this? Tom couldn't help replaying his father's prediction in his mind. Would Hermione stay with him after finding out about his magical abilities? Was he destined to end up alone?

No. That wasn't fair. Tom wouldn't be like his mother, no matter how screwed up he was, no matter how screwed up his family was. He just wouldn't.

His father's voice came back. "You will end up like your pathetic mother."

Tom's dark eyebrows furrowed in frustration. He took out Morfin's crooked wand and rolled it between his fingers. He killed his father with his uncle's wand. A humorless laugh escaped him. Shaking his thoughts, he snapped the wand in half and threw it into the roaring fire. Tom tossed his head back to rest against the couch. "I won't end up alone."

"Tom," Lucia called, stepping into the light with nothing but a skimpy nightgown that stopped just a few inches past her bum. "Are you alright? I heard you coming in and mumbling to yourself."

Tom turned his head away, knowing what she was trying to do with her outfit. "I'm fine. Leave me alone, McGroff."

She frowned briefly at the use of her last name but quickly put on a smile and slithered closer to the handsome boy.

"You don't look fine," she noted out loud and let her hands rest on his shoulders momentarily before sliding them down his covered chest.

"Leave me alone, McGroff, I'm not in the mood for company, especially yours."

She pouted. "You seemed like you were in the mood a couple of hours ago."

Tom opened his mouth to ask what she meant but then it clicked. Malfoy.

"I changed my mind."

"You sure," she asked as her hands began moving again.

Merlin, can't this girl take a hint when it's thrown in her fat face?

Tom rolled his eyes before closing them and took a deep breath. Despite the pleasure her roaming hand gave him, Tom was not in the mood. He had never even kissed before, let alone have sex. With Lucia, he knew she just liked to skip over all the bases and slam a homerun. Malfoy would always go on about all the experience he already had but Tom didn't care. It wasn't a competition. McGroff would just use him for her own pleasure.

"Go run back up to your boyfriends, I just want to be alone to think right now and your voice is giving me a headache."

"Richard and I aren't together. We just help each other when we're stress."

"I don't care." He swatted her hands away from him but she just put them back on his body and grabbed the part of his sweater closest to his belt before pulling the material to slide her cold hands underneath to feel his skin.

He groaned and sucked in his stomach at the coldness. They were much too young. They were both no more than sixteen. But then again, Malfoy had already done it his third year and from all the stories, he had continued to do so since. Maybe…

No.

"I'm tired," he said as angrily as he could before a soft moan slipped pass his lips when Lucia pressed a kiss behind his earlobe. Tom tried to shrug away from her body, hoping it would ruin her mood and she would leave. It only made her pull more of his top out of his pants.

"I know. All you do is work hard and study, of course you're tired but I can make you feel better." Before Tom could deny her again, Lucia made her way around the couch and slowly straddled his lap to trap him and lowered her mouth to kiss his neck. "You work too hard," she whispered.

Tom closed his eyes as the girl's lips peppered his skin.

I do work too hard. Four years of working too hard and what has it gotten me?

"You need to relax," she purred in a sultry voice, running her nails up his stomach and chest as she started to grind down on his growing hardness.

No letter, no note. Is Hermione even trying?! Why should I bust my arse off if she isn't?

Lucia sprinkled his neck in light kisses before finding a spot to suck. Tom knew it would leave a mark but he could easily cover it up with a glamour charm. She never stopped her grinding as she took hold of her wand and used a spell to get rid of her panties and his pants and boxers, releasing his manhood from their confinements.

Slut, he called her silently, noticing her use in the non-verbal spell. She must use it a lot. He groaned at the skin to skin contact as their body temperature started to rise. With another wave of her wand Tom knew Lucia silenced and put the room on lock down to prevent any interruptions.

"Tom," her voice pleading, asking him to give her what she was seeking.

Tom growled.

To hell with everything, he thought and threw caution into the wind before taking a firm hold of Lucia's hips and thrusted up into the girl that screamed with pleasure. He kept pumping into the girl, slowly but with forceful purpose and she kept singing for him.

Was this what sex always felt like? he thought with a grunt. It felt good. He should have done this sooner with all the girls throwing themselves at him.

He won't be like his mother though. He wouldn't go around drugging girls to fall into his lap simply for a good time. He would make them do it all by their own free will.

"Oh, Tom!"

He won't be like his deadbeat father or uncle.

"Y-yes! Oh, ah- not so ro-rough!"

Hermione, he thought the name for some reason.

She cared for him, something was wrong with the communication but she definitely cared for him once upon a time and that there was already a sign that he would be nothing like his parents, especially his filthy, muggle father. But… but then again, Hermione was a muggle too. What if she doesn't want him anymore? What if she saw him as a monster as his father saw his mother? Would she run away? Will he drug her like his mother did to his father? What did Tom assume would happen? That he finds Hermione, get married, have a baby and then… what? Have her up and leave him? A fairy tale story with a sucky ending. Story of his life. That was what he would get if he pursued this little… he didn't even know what to call it. Crush? Obsession? Addiction?

Tom groaned when the girl on his lap brought it upon herself to pick up the pace.

This was the type of girl that could suit him. The one that would throw themselves to his feet for his pleasure. The one that had connections, money, a name behind a face. Something that he could take and manipulate like his knights. Girls like the one bouncing on top of him were what he should crave for, to aim for. He shouldn't lower himself to be with someone who wasn't magic like his mother. She was a pureblood, the direct descendant from Salazar Slytherin himself. She could have had anyone but she chose a muggle man, one she had to go through the trouble of drugging to get his artificial affections. But Tom wouldn't do that. He was better than that, he was better than those around him and he deserved to have someone on his arm that fit the picture.

Through all the grunts and moans, for some reason, Tom wasn't enjoying himself. He felt unthinkable pleasure coming from the delicious friction below but there was something wrong. He looked up at the bouncing girl; her breaths came in heavy pants as she tried to make her way toward her goal. Head tossed back, eyes screwed shut. It was all wrong. Tom moved a hand from Lucia's hip to his wand.

"Colovaria!" he all but grunted quietly poking the tip of his wand into her thigh straddling his body.

Lucia moaned something about how turned on she was about the foreign word and to do it again. Stupid girl she was if she couldn't tell the difference between a foreign word and a spell.

"Crispulus!"

Lucia's brown, straight hair began to pull at her scalp and curl as they bounced along with the girl. Tom let go of his wand and ran a hand through her new curls, grabbing a fist full as he used his other hand to urge Lucia to move faster on top of him.

"Open your eyes," he grunted. "I want to see them."

Lucia did as she was told and tilted her head forward until their foreheads were pressed together when she opened her eyes. Tom's breath hitched when he saw Lucia's once green eyes to be that deep, mocha color he missed. He thrust up abruptly and slid his hand between them to push that pleasure button he had heard so much about, causing the girl to scream, announcing her orgasm. His name fell from her lips like a prayer but it sounded all wrong.

Hermione.

He skillfully flipped them over so that she was under him.

"Shit," he swore pounding through the girl's orgasm for his own release. Lucia reached up and pulled Tom down to her for a heated kiss and he clumsily moved his mouth in the way he saw older students did in the halls. It was his first kiss and he didn't know how to properly do it. He must have been doing a good job because the girl beneath him was moaning in his mouth so loud it was as if she wanted all the occupants in Gryffindor Tower to hear.

Tom parted from her lips, not liking the contact and opened his eyes. He expecting to see Lucia below him in her throes of pure ecstasy but instead saw the one person he fantasized for years. Not the cute, plump face nine year old girl he once knew but a young woman whose face he could only picture in his head.

Hermione.

"Fuck!" Tom yelled his release, spilling himself into the girl attached to him. When he blinked and breathed his post-orgasmic bliss away, the real face of the girl below him came into view as his spell reversed itself.

"I love you," she whispered quickly in a single breath before pulling herself up to meet Tom's lips. He flinched at her words, knowing she didn't really mean it and it was just nonsense in the spur of the moment. Those three words that he had never been fortunate to hear in his entire life, those three words he wanted whispered to him for as long as he could remember. And now that he finally heard those three words, the only thing he could think of was how stupid they sounded together. The words meant nothing to him and he felt nothing from them. They sounded wrong. It was the wrong voice that spoke them, the wrong lips they parted from. It was all wrong.

Tom pulled away slightly before her lips met his but allowed her to give him a peck before he got dressed as made for his room, leaving the girl behind to feel like she was on top of the world. He ran into his room, his roommates deep asleep. He roughly pulled open a drawer and found a large sleep draught before he popped off the cork and downed the horrible tasting liquid. He needed to go to sleep. He was tired and he just wanted to rest his mind that was in a frenzy. Still fully dressed in his robes, socks and shoes, Tom flopped on his bed instantly felt the effects of the potion. Soon he would be asleep. For just a few hours, he could dream of Hermione. Just for a few hours, that was all he wanted to do.

Hermione, he called in his head, hoping to God that he could have a dream with her as a whole. Tom turned to his side and opened a drawer to pull out Hermione's picture. He stared at the still image as his finger traced over the jagged left side of the paper where Mrs. Cole ripped Tom out of the picture. Her eyes was filled with expression and her smile was so big as she looked at the camera.

Tom sighed and slipped the picture back into his drawer next to the silver shell. He needed to hear her voice and see her eyes. Tom closed his eyes and chanted her name in his head like a broken lullaby until sleep overtook his mind.

Hermione… Hermione… Hermione…

Hermione woke up with a gasp and shot to a sitting position with her wand that she kept under her pillow, in hand.

"Hello?" she automatically called out from her bed to the darkness but the only thing that answered back was silence. She looked over and checked her clock to see it was almost midnight.

A few seconds later, her door opened and in walked Carol. The girl just shut the door and turned around to squeak in surprise to find Hermione staring at her, arms crossed over her chest.

"Sweet Circe, Hermione, you nearly frightened me to death!" Carol whispered as if to not wake up the other occupants in the room. "What are you doing up so late?"

"Me? What are you doing coming back so late?" the brunette huffed at her friend's antics.

"Put that sour face away because I have juicy news."

"This is Beauxbaton. Nothing 'juicy' ever happens here."

Her friend smirked, the mischievous twinkle in her eyes pulling harshly on Hermione's curiosity strings.

Hermione threw her hands up in the air. "Alright, fine. What's the big news?"

Her friend giggled uncontrollably and jumped onto Hermione's bed making the mattress spring sing. Hermione shushed her friends laughing and urged her to calm down.

"So, I was coming back from my detention, which by the way was a complete waste of time since all I did was read and write a report. I should have never gotten that detention in the first place. All I did was toss in leeches instead of horn slugs and 'Poof!'. I mean, it was just some smoke. It wasn't like I blew up the whole-"

"Get on with the story," Hermione ordered in a shouted whisper, dying from the anticipation of how 'juicy' her friend's news actually was.

"Oh, right. So on my way back I overheard Madame Maxime and Madame Delacour talking about preparation for next year." Carol stopped for a moment, enjoying how Hermione's face was becoming red from holding her breath.

Hermione reached out to grab her friend's slim shoulders and said desperately, "Stop being so dramatic and just spit it out already. You're killing me with the suspense."

Carol put a hand over her mouth to muffle her giggle. "I followed them, because you know me, I have to know about everything. Anyway, so I followed them up to the tower in the left wing of the Castle, you know, the one Veelas are only allowed to go in? I snuck inside after them and after lord knows how long of useless chatter, they said that the Headmaster from one of the other magical schools in Europe, I forgot the name, it was long and weird…"

Hermione gave her a look that said she was going to kill her friend if she didn't get to the point.

"Right, so the Headmaster from whatever sent a letter to the other magical schools asking if they would allow some of their students to come over in a kind of peace offering. Turns out Beauxbaton was sent one of those letters and Headmistress accepted. They are to come in the winter next year!"

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed together as her friend jumped up and down like a five year old that just got her bed updated.

"Wait, I still don't understand. What do you mean by 'peace offering'? Are they offering their students as a sacrificial lamb?"

"I have no idea," was her carefree response. "Who cares about the details? You're missing the point, Hermione. Think about it, how many other schools for magic are there?"

"Well, technically there are about twenty-"

Carol placed her hands on Hermione's mouth to save herself from a long, textbook answer. Hermione's first reaction was to lick the girl's hand causing her to reel back in disgust. Hermione laughed and quickly muttered a scourgify.

"Stop using all of your brilliant brain, half will be more than enough. How many schools for magic are there in Europe?"

"Three," Hermione answered easily, not quite following where the story was going. Carol rolled her eyes seeing that her brilliant friend wasn't catching on.

"Out of those three schools, how many are just for girls?"

Hermione opened her mouth to answer another easy question but then she stopped. "Oh."

"Finally. Get excited, Hermione, because come next winter, there will probably be boys roaming these quiet halls!"

"But…" Hermione trailed off, thinking about Tom.

Her friend quickly caught on to Hermione's joyful hesitation. "That mystery boy again?" She nodded. "Are you ever going to tell me more about him? I don't even know his name."

"No, I-I… I don't know if he still remembers me. It's better if I keep him a secret."

"Why?"

Hermione smirked and gave her friend a gentle shove. "Because if you knew about him and how great he is, you wouldn't be able to keep your paws off of him. He's mine," she teased weakly, surprised by her last statement. She didn't know why she said it. It wasn't like Tom was a plaything.

Her friend just smiled, knowing Hermione was trying to put up a brave face. Talking about Tom was always a touchy subject that she kept bottled up.

"Maybe it's for the better that I don't know. Seeing you all flustered and lovey dovey with a boy, I wouldn't be able to hold back from all the cuteness and would probably embarrass you all the time."

"You would deliberately embarrass me in front of a boy?"

Carol shook her head. "As much as you won't admit it, this isn't just 'a boy'. He's special to you, I can see it in the way your cheeks blush when you think of him all the time." Hermione brought her hands up to cover her cheeks, not knowing if she was blushing or not. Carol sighed and flopped on her back. "Alright, mystery boy stays a mystery, but if I find out he ever hurt you I will claw his eyes out," she threatened, raising her hand to show her black, Veela claws before retracting them.

"Right, because after hearing that I'm definitely going to introduce you two."

She shrugged. "Beauxbaton sisters stay together. Anyway, I don't care if you're hung over this boy. Come next winter there will be boys at Beauxbaton for the first time and you and I will enjoy ourselves. If you're planning to see your mystery boy, you should at least have experience talking with a boy."

"Isn't it the same as talking with anyone else?"

"Oh Hermione, you are much too innocent for my good health. Once winter comes, you will know what I mean. Until then, I'm going to sleep and dream of those broad, muscular shoulders that will grace these hollow halls in a few months."

Carol moved to her bed which was right next to Hermione's and shed her robes before slipping under the her blanket.

"Hey Carol."

"Hmm?"

"When you came in, did you see anyone outside the door or in the halls?"

The question made her friend's head shoot up in alert that a stranger may have been outside. "No, and I certainly didn't smell anyone. Why? Did you see something?"

Hermione shook her head and got out of bed. "I just thought I heard someone say my name before I woke up and then you walked in so I thought it might have been someone outside," she explained, reaching for her robe to put on. "I guess it was just a dream." Hermione made her way for the door.

"Where are you going? It's already twelve thirty."

"I have to check on something."

"This late? Can't it wait until tomorrow?" Hermione shook her head and the other witch groan. "Fine. Go make me proud and break the rules. I'm gonna go to dreamland where my dream guy will be waiting. Maybe I'll dream of my Mate."

Hermione bid her roommate a good night and quickly made her way up the owlery that was conveniently close to her dorm since she lived on the top floor.

Please let there be something. Please let there be something, she repeated the phrase like a mantra as she climbed the cold stairs.

"Felix?" she whispered when she got to the top.

Her owl's snowy, white head popped up from its sleeping bed and Hermione walked over. She held up her arm for the owl to hop on to see if there was anything on its leg. Nothing.

"Sorry, boy," she apologized with a pat to the head and set her owl back down where it went to sleep. Hermione made her way for the balcony, needing a bit of fresh air to clear the despair she felt. Spring nights at Beauxbaton brought a cold breeze as it picked up the aftermath of the afternoon rainstorm. Hermione pulled her robes tighter around her body for warmth as she stared at the large, full moon in front of her, her mind ran in circles about Tom.

When would she hear something? When would she see him again?

The memories of the day the two were separated danced in her head. The imagery was so crisp and clear; every eye color from the other orphans, Billy's expression, the bruise she had on her hips from Carl trying to hang on and keep her from slipping out of his grasp, the way Tom looked down to her from his bedroom window as they drove away- she remembered everything.

Hermione slightly patted her cheeks to reset her mind. This wasn't the time to think the way she was. She would try again until she received a sign telling her otherwise.

Maybe next time.

She turned around and placed her hand on the door knob, ready to twist it when a loud hooting stopped her. Hermione turned around and saw a large owl flying right towards her. Thinking it was another student's owl making its return, Hermione politely opened the door for the messenger. It became clear the owl wasn't going to stop when it took a sharp turn up. Confused, Hermione almost missed the tiny package it dropped in her hands before the bird disappeared under the shadow of the night.

Hermione looked at the small box, no bigger than her hand. Attached to it was a note half the size of her palm and Hermione started to cry at the three words neatly inscribed in black ink.

To Hermione,

~Tom

Hermione placed the note down beside her and tore open the package to reveal a silver bracelet that sparkled as if microscopic diamonds were embedded into the silver. She turned the bracelet in hand and her eyes fell upon a small, sapphire gem that was the only blemish on the outside.

Sapphire for her birthday.

Her eyes caught gold, cursive looking writing and pictures on the inside. It wasn't something she could read but some character's looked similar. It was beautiful. Stunning really and Hermione couldn't help but feel overjoyed to have finally received something from Tom.

Quickly, she moved her right hand through the hole and the bracelet shrunk to fit her wrist snugly, leaving just enough room for it to be turned and dangle but not enough for her to slip her hand out of.

Suddenly, Hermione felt her heart thump loudly against her ears and her lungs constricted. The bracelet started to glow and vibrate and Hermione was left to gasp for the cool air to fill her lungs. She didn't understand what was happening. One minute, Hermione was crying for joy, the next, she felt like she was drowning under the pressure of the world. Hermione looked toward the door beside her.

"Felix," she whispered, calling for the only help nearby.

If she could get to her owl, she could write a note for help. Her knees gave under her and she fell flat on her back just out of reach from the handle, her chest heaving up and down as her vision began to blur. Hermione could feel her wand pressing itself into her thigh but gravity was pinning her strongly to the ground. She could see her white owl screeching and clawing against the glass barrier in an attempt to help its owner but the door wouldn't budge. Her mind began to swirl and haze while confusion moved in.

What's going on?

The note beside her head combusted into flames and Hermione watched as it ate the paper before a breeze could brush the ashes away to sprinkle over the woods. Hermione's vision was obstructed by black dots as the last thing she saw was the bright moon above her before she passed out.

It was dark and quiet with the only noise coming from the crunching of dead leaves under Tom's shoes as he walked deeper into the Forbidden Forest. What was he even doing in the woods to begin with? He was wearing a sharp black attire with iron pressed black pants and matching collared shirt. His shoes shined so clear half the girls in Hogwarts would be able to do their make-up with it. He felt powerful, rich; clothes really did make the man.

But now, why was Tom walking through a forest at night looking as handsome as he did? He didn't know, but he couldn't stop his feet from walking deeper into the woods. They finally stopped when he heard a sniffling.

It sounded like someone crying. But who could be here so late and alone? Maybe it's just a poor lost soul. Probably a girl who got rejected and her heart stomped on. Tom would have just left them there to cry their heart out but be couldn't help but make his way toward the sound.

As he got closer to the sniffling sounds, the air began to get colder but his steps never faltered. After a few trees, Tom could see a small figure sitting on the ground with their back to him. As he crept closer, his heart sank and he couldn't believe seeing those golden brown locks.

It couldn't be.

"Hey," he called out.

The figure straightened its back at the sound of his voice and looked around.

It couldn't be. That hair. That outfit. That sniffling cry. It just couldn't be. It was too easy.

As slow as humanly possible, the figure turned around and Tom almost dropped to his knees at the sight of Hermione's chocolate eyes. She smiled and he melted.

"Tom!" she cheered, her face brighter than a mid-summer sun. It was almost blinding but Tom wouldn't dare to look away. The sight of her spread lips and white teeth made Tom at a loss for words.

Hermione spun around without getting up and plucked a book that manifested from somewhere off the ground. Her eyes lit up at the cover and her smile widen. She turned the book over to show Tom and his breath hitched.

Macbeth.

"Do you want to come read this with me?" she asked. Tom nodded slowly and tried to move forward but his feet sunk into the ground like quicksand. He couldn't move a step closer and Hermione wore a hurt expression that caused his heart to clench.

Hermione got up to her tiny feet and walked forward until she was arm's length away from Tom. Just a few feet and he would be able to grab her. Suddenly, right when they were so close, Hermione walked straight into an invisible wall and doubled back a few steps before falling to the ground. She let out a soft whimper and Tom could see that she cut her hands on the forest floor. Hermione got back up to her feet and walked straight up to the wall again. Her hands slid up and around the unseen barrier leaving trails of blood to show where her hands had been. Her eyes told Tom she was completely fascinated and curious at the same time. She turned back to him.

"Why did you put up a wall, Tom? Don't you want to play with me?"

He nodded again, wordlessly, as if in a trance, and tried to move forward but the earth below him started to soften and his feet sank deeper until it got to his ankles. He tried to jerk them back to the surface but the more he struggled the faster he sunk. Black vines shot up from the soil and slowly wrapped themselves around Tom's body before tightening.

Devil's snare.

Hermione started to cry and Tom snapped his head up at the choked sound. She pressed her hands to the invisible wall, her tears flowing down her cheeks.

"Why haven't you found me yet, Tom? Have I been bad? Do you hate me now?"

No.

"Have you forgotten about me?"

Never.

"I just want to be with you again." Her tiny hands moved around in search for a door of some sorts. When she couldn't find one, Hermione looked back. "Please take down this wall, Tom. I don't understand why you're using your magic against me."

I didn't put up the wall. I'm not using magic!

Tom struggled against the black vines but they completely covered his whole body, pinning his arms to his side as he continued to sink lower into the earth. A thick fog crept up behind Hermione who still looked at him pleadingly. Suddenly, Tom could see a tall figure standing behind Hermione. It was a person, or at least, it looked like a person without a face. Like a shadow standing up on the ground instead of lying on it. It got closer to Hermione who was still oblivious to the creature. It just about reached her and Tom glared at the faceless shadow man, hoping it would go away. If it was afraid, it didn't show. How could it without a face? Quickly, the shadow man bent down and picked Hermione up by her waist before wrapping her in its arm.

"Do you want me to leave again?" Hermione asked as the two stood in front of Tom.

"No, don't leave me again." He leaned forward to follow her.

Out of nowhere, cold hands came from behind Tom and wrapped around him in an embrace, stopping his advancement.

"You work too hard," whispered Lucia's sultry voice. She slipped her hands under his black dress shirt and ran her sharp nails down his chest, clawing at his perfect skin causing Tom to hiss in pain. She laughed at the sound and kissed his shoulder blades through his shirt. "You need to relax."

Hermione frowned. "Goodbye, Tom."

The shadow man turned and walked away with Hermione in his arms. Tom began to panic and thrash again his restraints but Lucia just kept whispering, "Relax, Tom. I can help you relax."

He didn't want to relax. Every time she said the word it caused the devil's snare to tighten and him to be sucked into the earth faster. Hermione stared at him as she was carried away, her silent tears asking him to take her away some place safe. He wanted to but the earth was swallowing him up and the snares pulled him down as Lucia pushed down on his shoulder.

"Hermione!" he roared, finally finding his voice but his cry bounced off the invisible barrier that still had Hermione's blood smeared on it. Hermione didn't hear his voice and turned away to rest her head on the shadow man's shoulder like a child tuckered out from an eventful day. Within a matter of seconds, the two disappeared and Tom had lost her... again.

"No… don't leave," he choked out the plead as his chin met the forest ground. He looked into the darkness hoping Hermione would come running back. Tom closed his eyes and allowed the ground to swallow him up.

Tom woke up in a cold sweat, his chest heaved powerfully as if to push gravity away from his body. He looked around him and saw Cygnus snoring away with half the bed sheet on the ground and the other half covering his legs. A hand shot up to run through Tom's black hair and he groaned.

Just another dream. Just another nightmare.

Tom went into the bathroom, shedding his dirty clothes on the way and turned on the shower before jumping under the ice cold water to clear his foggy head. His mind was in turmoil as his inner conflict sparked a war in his heart. Tom didn't know what to think, everything was just so confusing! The girl haunting his thoughts bulldozed to the front of his mind as if to make him feel guilty for what he had done hours ago. As if to remind him of that tragic day and his promise like he had already forgotten.

It was weird being with McGroff. He didn't feel any sparks, any passion in the heat he just experienced a few hours ago. His own pleasurable released seemed artificial. Tom just did it to shut McGroff up and left the panting girl to clean herself up. There was nothing between them so why was she in his dream trying to kill him? Was he feeling guilty? He didn't know, but he wasn't going to rack his brain over it now. Tom stood under the cold water, arm pressed against the tile wall and head pressed against arm while the stream of water ran down the curve of his spine.

He couldn't help but chant her name over and over, wishing she could be with him now to stop all of his confusion. He just wanted her back in his life. He just wanted to see her again. He wanted to feel her hands in his, to say something that colored her cheeks with embarrassment, to run his hands through her soft, chestnut hair, to feel her smooth, warm skin under his touch, to stare into her gentle chocolate eyes, to kiss her lips before they curled into that innocent smile he so missed. He just wanted to see her again...

He just wanted her back.

Author's Note: I can already hear your screams of anger and disappointment that the title of the chapter wasn't referring to Tom and Hermione's reunion. All in good time.

What happened to Hermione? What's going on with Tom? He's certainly moving toward the dark end of the spectrum, isn't he? Maybe not. And the golden question you all are yelling at your computer screens: When will they meet again?! (Or how could I be so heartless?)

Who knows?

I thought it would be nice to give Tom some background story although, I didn't expect this chapter to be so long so don't get used to it. It probably won't happen again. I was going to cut it off after Tom made the horcrux but one thing led to another and... yeah. Hoped you liked it.

Thank you all for the wonderful support and reviews!

Until next time!