Chapter Twenty:
The Forgotten Memory
I ran through the entryway of the caste, only breaking into a sprint when I was assured that Hagrid was no longer watching. However, as I made my way up the steps of the first grand staircase that was to be spotted, I felt something grasp me about the middle and pull me to one side.
"That step is farce, Danielle," Tom chuckled. Yet he must have spotted the blotchiness of my cheeks, for his expression suddenly fell into one of concern. "Are you alright?"
I shrugged, unable to distinguish how I felt at the time. Tom pulled me close and I sank into his chest, sighing, his heart fluttering against my head.
"Hagrid... thought that we have been rushing things," I finally choked. Glancing at him for a moment and unburying my face, I saw a look of anger mingled with sadness. A snarl twisted his mouth. It was the first time I had seen him do such—and with so much malice—and it startled me. Without thought, I brought my hand to his lips, causing them to relax.
He murmured an apology, yet his gaze was transfixed upon me. "But do you believe that is so?" he inquired softly.
I shook my head with vigor. "No, of course not. How can you even ask such a thing?"
Tom caressed my back soothingly, his breath tickling a few blonde strands from atop my head. "Forgive me, I thought as much."
-
"Ah, Ms. Riddle," Albus interjects." I do not wish for this to become merely an interrogation of sorts, but-"
"Ask what you must. I have agreed to serve the Order by any means possible," I tell him curtly.
"Very well." He brings before us a basin filled with smoky liquid. Mist seems to radiate in slowly-curving tendrils from its depths. I eye it with a hint of a smile curling at the corner of my lips.
Albus entwines his gnarled fingers in his lap. "Did there ever come times when, ah, Tom, would leave without first supplying an explanation? Sudden disappearances, perhaps?"
I narrow my eyes and furrow my brow deeply. "Of course," I retort, attempting to mask my confusion. "We could not always be aware of and control each other's doings. If you do not mind, I must inquire as to why you have asked me this. What is it precisely that you wish to know, Albus?"
He arches a single white eyebrow admiringly. Never has he been a fool, nor will he ever become one; yet neither will I. For I have been a fool, I realize that it has been so. Though through my foolishness, I have been taught well.
"I have acquired a memory, Ms. Riddle, as well as delved deeply for information—a hobby of mine, it seems. I believe you are aware of the murders of Tom Riddle Sr. and that of his parents," he explains slowly.
I chew at the edge of my weathered lip, anxiety beginning to form in anticipation of what that he may query of me. Sighing, I nod.
"And you know, I presume, that it was Tom Riddle himself whom committed them."
My breath catches in my throat, my mouth parted to speak, and yet no answer emerges from them. My mind races, though all I can accomplish is a slight nod.
Then I smile, though it is hardly an expression of warmth; it is a smile that is but a slight upturning of my lips, from the edges dripping hints of irony in some form that I do not know. "I remember nothing of it, Albus, for he neglected to inform me of such things."
"Ah, but Ms. Riddle, I have reason to believe that with a bit of persuasion, we can succeed in coaxing it back into your recollection."
I open my mouth to protest, but Albus raises a knotted hand, and I swallow my disbelief.
"I am accusing you of nothing, merely reminding you that our past can sometimes be a bit elusive. Now, if you please?" He gestures to the stone basin.
I sigh, seeming to slip once more into the mind of my sixteen-years-of-age self. I close my eyes and strain to remember, my weakened heart thudding dully in my ears. I wish nothing more than to disappear and become lost in my past, though it nearly feels as if I am. Albus, I know, has sensed the change, and yet he does not realize why I have done so. And thus, he is curt, tiring of my newly-found charade.
I bring the tip of my wand to touch a point near my temple, and draw from it a silvery strand of which I release into the Pensieve. An image ripples upon its surface, and into it, we become immersed.
-
It was late—nearly midnight—that night, but I felt not a bit of weariness. The orphanage had long-since fallen silent, and as I lay awake upon my cot, I heard but the gentle purr of crickets through the walls. Our room was shadowed in darkness, though I could sense Tom's absence, and it worried me. He would never have left me alone in that horrid place, I was sure, and yet that seemed to be precisely what he had done. At the time, it was so unlike him.
I strained to catch the subtle creak of an opening door, or the gentle padding of feet upon the wooden planks, but it seemed to be for naught. So long, I waited, and thus, I had nearly given up all hope of his return, when at last, I heard the front lock click. I sprung from my cot and thrust upon the door, running as quietly as possible toward him.
"Tom!" I whispered, my tone laden with less anger than I had wished it to be. "Where have you been? I was so worried!"
But he spoke not a word, and I squinted at his face in the blackness. "Tom, are you alright?"
His expression was gaunt, what little I could make of his eyes were haunted. His posture was stiff, and his arms hung limply at his sides. Mussed was his dark hair, as was his garb, nearly as though sort of mad struggle had occurred. His hands quivering, he brought them silently before his eyes, examining them, and at the corners of his lips curled the ghost of a sneer, a cruel smile that twisted his features grotesquely. It was as though I had donned my cloak and had spoken not a word to him since his arrival.
He suddenly broke into a wide grin, though it contained not a bit of pleasured emotion. There came a gurgle from deep in his throat, and in but a moment, it rumbled and turned to laughter. "The fools!" he hissed in ill amusement. "Filthy muggles, pitiful excuses for human beings, they were! They thought to defy me, to leave me, and now..." He cackled triumphantly, oft times gasping for breath.
"Tom, what have you done?" I shrieked, disregarding the intensity of my voice.
He turned to me, finally, still smiling, though his eyes glinted madly in the darkness. "I have given them what they have so rightfully earned."
"Who, Tom? And what have you done to them?" I inquired fearfully, gripping his arm with such a tightness I did not know I could have mustered.
He narrowed his eyes and smirked, shrugging off my grasp effortlessly. "Go to bed, Danielle. Do not worry your head with things that do not concern you."
-
The image dissipates once more into the Penseive from whence it had emerged. I tug thoughtfully at my lower lip, my eyes remaining transfixed upon the place in which my memory had formerly been displayed. "I had forgotten," I murmur softly, not only to Albus, but to myself. For upon further reflection, I realize that that night had been lost to me long ago, perhaps even before I consented to bewed Tom. It was as though something had forced the entire incident to be erased from memory, denial pushing it from my mind before it was presented the change to cause harm. It could have been of my own doing, or by another's will, for now it is impossible to know.
I shut my eyes lightly, yet deeply do I breathe in. Oft times I have wondered of the reason I had found to become his wife, and then, when I delve deeply into my past, I cherish each moment that we have shared together, and I remember what such times meant to me.
A small smile twists its way upon my face. Even though Tom has left me, the words which I once spoke to Hagrid remain true.
I will love Tom Riddle until the day I die...