(A/N: Hey, sorry guys, for the delay. So many things have happened and well, I needed inspiration. The end of this chapter may disturb Draco fans. We all know how sadistic Tom is.

Sadism- The deriving of pleasure, or the tendency to derive pleasure, from cruelty

So, enjoy… I think…)

Rose sat on the cold stone floor, shocked, utterly shocked as she stared at the figure before her. With black locks, beautiful icy blue crystals for eyes, pale angelic complexion and a slightly muscular build, Tom Marvolo Riddle was a man hard to ignore, especially by young girls. And to Death Eaters everywhere, he was the sign of the beginning of Lord Voldermort and the end of the naïve little boy who yelled as Dumbledore set his wardrobe on fire.

After a moment of silence, Rose breathed a sigh of defeat as she got to her feet. She walked towards the youth on the floor and extended a hand to help. He pushed it away as it was a sign of weakness to accept help, well, to him at least. Rose felt a sinking feeling as she opened her mouth. Breaking the truth wasn't going to be easy. And Tom's attitude wasn't making it a walk in the park.

"What's going on?" Tom barked at her. Rose trembled slightly and regained her composure as she stood in front of his hulking body.

No, it was going to be a walk in the industrial park; a very long walk…

Moments later…

Rose fell to the floor with a moan. Her bloodied face looked up to the man she was staring at moments earlier. Tears of pain filled her eyes and she let them fall. They stung the cuts and wounds on her face and she hissed in pain. "Filth," Tom yelled as he walked to her fidgeting body. He bent down and grabbed her by the front of her robes. She struggled against his strength but to no avail. "I swear, My Lord," she began in a quickened pace. "I had no idea the after effects if we used a different blood! I swear! Cross my heart."

"And hope to die?" Tom questioned. It sounded more like a challenge than a question. Rose knew that dangerous tone from the older version.

Flashback…

"I swear, My Lord!" the trembling young man shuddered as he said those words. "It was a missed shot! I was aiming for the boy! I didn't mean to kill the woman!"

Lord Voldermort sat on his throne, staring at the man with disgust. Rose leaned on one of the many columns in the room and listened to their conversation.

"I swear!" The man yelled. "Cross my heart!"

"And hope to die, I suppose," Lord Voldermort hissed. The man kept silent as Voldermort pulled out his wand. "As you wish," Voldermort muttered. "Avada kedavra!"

The man's body fell to the ground, limp and lifeless. Peter Pettigrew scurried into the room and dragged the body away. Rose and Voldermort were left alone in the room. "Learn from his mistake, Rose," Voldermort hissed. "Death Eaters don't miss. They plan. They don't make mistakes. Am I a fool not to expect any from you?"

"No," Rose said, stepping away from the column and bowing. "No, My Lord."

End of flashback…

Rose kept her mouth closed. This was a question to confuse her. Both answers, yes and no, had a trap. If she were to agree, the Dark Lord will kill her; if she chose the latter, it would show that she had no loyalty and she would be killed, like all the other disrespectful scum that betrayed the Dark Lord.

After a few moments, Tom gave a smirk and let go of her, letting her limp form drop to the ground. Rose groaned as a bruise formed on her leg. Tom chuckled at her and walked from the room, leaving her, a twitching mess, on the cold stone floor. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she felt utter relief as her life was spared by the notorious Lord Voldermort.

Tom walked through deserted corridors. He held his forehead in his left hand, trying to fight back the migraine that sneaked up upon him. His mind was filled with clippings of past memories. But after his recent memory, the train of though kept moving. To Harry's scar, Quirrel, the Four Champions, Harry, duel, Priori Incantatem, bone of father, flesh of servant, blood of enemy. Blood of enemy! Magical physics and logic made him what he was now. Draco wasn't an enemy. Not a true enemy. Harry's blood was the only one that could work. Tom suddenly dropped to his knees, grabbing his temples with both hands.

The memories came faster now, in a hurry. His head felt intense pain as more and more came. War, Hogwarts, Harry Potter, prisoner, dungeon, Draco Malfoy, Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, Death Eaters, summon, loyal, unloyal, Draco traitor, time, Time Turner, Department of Mysteries, reversed time. The headache stopped. Tom breathed a sigh of relief and let his hands fall to the ground to support his weakened form. He looked to his left, a door with a barred window, metal locks. The Dungeon. Tom smirked. Now, he knew what to do…

In the Dungeons…

Draco kneeled on the stone floor, hanging by his wrists from the chains that bound him to the wall. Terribly wounded, unable to heal, he took his breaths in shallow gasps. Sacrifice… Sacrifice always hurts, his father once taught him. The candles were all extinguished and there was no light. No light, no sight. No one to see him at his moment of weakness. No one to see him let go of the many tears that he kept locked away for so long…

His salty tears stung the wounds on his chest as they trailed from his cheeks, to the bottom of his face, to his chin, when they fell in crystal clear drops. He winced in pain as he tried to move. The damp rag that covered his chest that used to be his shirt was drenched in blood and ripped at the sleeves. The remains of his green and silver tie were now a piece of cloth, dangling loosely from his neck. His black pants were ripped at the knees and he was barefoot. Rose's torture had no bounds.

Suddenly, the door to the dungeon flew open. Draco looked up and saw the silhouette of a man at the top of the stairs. 'Who is this?' Draco thought as the door was slammed shut. The sound of footsteps rang throughout the small room. The footsteps stopped and Draco looked around the dark lit room, looking for the unexpected visitor.

The fire on each candle was lit and grew bigger so that the room was filled with a yellow and orange glow. Draco found the face of Tom Riddle in front of his and he jumped back (if possible) in shock.

"Hello, Draco," Tom muttered in a cool voice. He took a moment of silence to notice Draco's features. "Been crying, haven't you?" he mocked, reaching out a hand to wipe away a tear that was on his cheek.

Draco winced at his cold touch and backed away to the wall. "Y-You're not real," Draco stuttered. "The memory of Tom Riddle was destroyed as the diary was destroyed. It is not possible. You're not possible."

"Ahh, I see that Lucius has been feeding you information," Tom muttered. "Lucius Malfoy with his runaway mouth." Draco kept silent, his vision directed to the floor. "Well?" Tom said. Draco looked back at Tom's face and stared at him. What was he expecting from him? "Aren't you going to defend your father's name?' Tom said. Oh, that. "No," Draco said plainly. "No, he doesn't deserve my defense. He has done too much."

Tom smiled. "My thought on my own father, exactly," he said. "That's what I like about you Draco, we are so much alike, I would free you," Draco looked at him with shocked eyes. "If you hadn't betrayed me like all the past traitors." Tom's eyes flickered red for a second. "And everyone knows what I do to traitors, Draco." Draco's eyes grew wide with shock as he spotted the silver dagger in Tom's hand. He felt his shirt torn from his chest and a searing pain on his back.

(A/N: No comment. 00)