A/N: Finally! TOM RIDDLE! You'll see what I mean. Well, here's the next chapter. The little men that run my brain had to work overtime for this chapter. You wouldn't believe how much summer reading I pushed out of the way to write this chapter. Anyway... Enjoy and feedback - even negative - is much appreciated.
Disclaimer: Ok, think about what your saying here. You're suggesting that I actually wrote Harry Potter? Now, do I really have to say I didn't write it? I do? Fine, I didn't write Harry Potter. Tom Riddle doesn't belong to me... Oh, and neither does Pinocchio.
Love Doesn't Exist
Chapter Three
Felicity roughly pulled her shoulder away from Voldemort's hands. "Never touch me again." She ordered with as much poison as she could muster.
"That will hardly be a problem. Now, I have some matters to attend to, so your new personal servant will show you to your bedroom." Lord Voldemort opened his mouth to say something more, but Felicity interrupted him.
"What? I'm not being locked away in the dungeon?" She retorted sarcastically.
"Well, I figured since you were going to spend the rest of your miserable days in this house you'd want to be comfortable, but if you would prefer the dungeon…" His eyes gleamed with amusement.
"Honestly, I would prefer going home." Voldemort smirked.
"That certainly isn't going to happen. I will not have another repeat of what occurred nineteen years ago. I will not allow any harm to come to my final Horcrux." That statement bothered Felicity. She wasn't human to him, just an object that withheld part of his soul (she shuddered at the thought). She was useful to him because she was a Horcrux. Not that she expected any different from her mentor's greatest enemy. "If you're quite done with your snide comments, I have something to do." He paused, waiting for one of Felicity's 'snide comments,' and when it did not come, he continued, "Good. Taffy!"
With a pop, a little house-elf dressed in a torn tablecloth appeared in front of Lord Voldemort. She had giant ears, a long Pinocchio nose, and humongous brown eyes. "You c-c-called, Master?" She sounded as scared as Felicity felt.
"Yes, Taffy." Felicity suddenly thought the idea of Lord Voldemort saying the word 'taffy' comical, and laughed lightly. Voldemort shot her a death glare and continued speaking, "This is Felicity Tylers. She will be living here from now on. You will obey any order she gives you as long as it does not conflict with my own instructions. Do you understand?" Taffy nodded weakly. "Good. Now leave me." Taffy and Felicity turned to exit the grand foyer, but were stopped by Voldemort's cold voice. "Ah, Miss Tylers, I almost forgot." He grinned maliciously. "Hand over your wand." The sickly-looking man held out his left hand, ready to receive her wand.
The blond woman slowly rotated to face Voldemort. She pulled out her wand from the inside of her black robes and lingered there momentarily. There was no point in trying to disobey Lord Voldemort. He would hunt down everyone she ever loved and kill them right before her eyes if she didn't do what she was told. She glanced down at the wand she had bought so many years ago. Eleven and a half inches, Unicorn tail hair core, cherry wood. She would be sorry to see it leave her side. Felicity quickly handed him the stick, and felt bare and exposed without it. The wand in hand, Voldemort smirked before stalking off to the nearest door.
Felicity was left there, staring after him, beseeching her wand to miraculously come back to her. She went into some sort of trance and only woke when Taffy spoke, "M-mistress? Taffy is to show you to your room now. Master's orders."
"Did he already have it set up for someone?" The thought had just occurred to Felicity.
"Oh yes, Mistress. He's had it prepared since Taffy began working for him." Taffy had a somewhat more relaxed tone ever since 'her Master' had left the room.
"And how long ago was that?" She questioned curiously.
"Taffy were born into his service, Taffy were. Mother works for Master before Taffy does. She told Taffy often about the guest that was coming to live here in the future. Master always ordered to have that room ready." Felicity had noticed, like most other house-elves, that Taffy's grammar was somewhat…less refined than a human's would usually be. However, she did appear to have some sense of the subject. Felicity had personally heard some elves' grammar that was so atrocious she could hardly stand being in the same room with them. "M-mistress?" Taffy seemed nervous once more, and wrung her hands about the tablecloth-dress. "Taffy just were wondering… Is Mistress and Master… is they be married?" The idea was so farfetched that Felicity didn't grasp it for a moment. Then, she quickly burst out laughing. Taffy looked confused.
"Whatever would give you that impression, Taffy? Was it his loving looks towards me? Or perhaps it was his charming demeanor?" Felicity soon realized her sarcasm was completely lost on Taffy. She suddenly felt bad for the ignorant creature and immediately rectified the situation. "No, Taffy. Lord Voldemort and I are not going to be married. Now, please, would you show me to my room? I've gotten very tired with all the funerals and kidnappings of the day." Taffy's facial expression once again showed confusion. Felicity would have to remember that Taffy didn't take too well to sarcasm in the future. As perplexed as the little house-elf was, she knew she had been given an order and decided to carry on with it. She gestured to the open hallway to the left and led Felicity throughout the Victorian-styled house.
The house was almost Gothic-looking in appearance with high, curved ceilings and little to no light shining through. The house made full use of flying buttresses, ribbed vaults, and pointed arches; all of which are the fundamental features of Gothic architecture, Felicity knew. Felicity had to admit she was impressed. The house was less of a 'house' and more of a mansion. It was dark and depressing, but Felicity expected no less of Lord Voldemort. Despite its apparent melancholic feel, Felicity quite liked the beautiful mansion.
Taffy brought Felicity up the grand staircase and took her to her room. Her mouth fell open as she entered. The room was enormous and positively the most gorgeous bedroom Felicity had ever been in. In the middle of the opposite wall, a king-sized canopy bed with silky red bedclothes sat. Next to the bed were two small nightstands. Directly across from them was a fireplace with a dark marble mantle. Flames were flickering in the fireplace, giving the rest of the room a warm homey glow. In front of the hearth, a small table and two chairs were positioned. In the far corner, a large mahogany desk rested, and alongside the wall to Felicity's right were bookcases filled with different tomes. The final aspect, and perhaps her favorite, to Felicity's new room was a large window covered with curtains of the same red silky material that adorned the bed. Lord Voldemort may be the most evil Dark wizard alive, but Felicity had to admit he knew how to decorate a room.
"Is the room to Mistress' liking?" Taffy asked, beaming at the bedroom she probably spent most of her life keeping up.
"Yes, Taffy. It'll do, thank you." Felicity glanced around the room until her eyes finally rested upon the bed. She really was tired. The twenty-three-year-old just wanted to curl up in the bed and try to forget she had been kidnapped. Then Felicity looked down. She had just remembered the only clothing she had brought (not that she had much of a choice) with her were the clothes on her back. She wasn't planning on being abducted, so she had worn her dressiest – and heaviest – robes to Jack's funeral. There was no way Felicity was sleeping in that. "Taffy, would you happen to know if Lord Voldemort has any clothes for me?"
As if someone had been listening in on their conversation, a mahogany wardrobe appeared out of thin air and landed near the door Felicity and Taffy were standing at. It was surprisingly quiet landing even though it dropped from six inches in the air. Felicity walked over to the armoire before opening it unceremoniously. Inside was a vast amount of Muggle-clothing all appearing to be Felicity's size. There were many lavish dresses, nightgowns, shirts, and pants hanging. Felicity once again let her mouth hang open. "Did you do all this, Taffy?" Felicity asked, unable to take her eyes off the various clothing items.
"No, no, Mistress. Taffy doesn't do it. It was Master. Master is great wizard."
"But how…? Why… Muggle-clothing?" Felicity realized suddenly the strangeness of it all. A man who loathed Muggles wanted his captive dressed like one?
"T-Taffy believes Master… t-took… clothing. Wealthy Muggles is less likely to notice missing clothing." Felicity nodded in understanding. Voldemort had stolen the clothing from rich Albanian women, who probably could clothe a third-world country having given up their precious clothes. All it would take was a simple Summoning Charm and the Muggles would never know they'd lost any clothing items.
Felicity dismissed her new personal servant, and, dressed in silk nightgown, laid down upon her bed. She stared up at the ceiling blankly. She hadn't realized she'd begun to cry, but wet tears poured down her face and she couldn't stop herself. Felicity hadn't once allowed herself to cry about her brother's death. She told herself she must be strong for her father, but here, she didn't have to be. All was lost here. She was thousands of miles from her family, her job, her friends, her life.
The gravity of the situation finally hit her. She was trapped in a house in Albania with a sadistic sociopath without a wand. She wasn't getting out of this as easily as she briefly thought back in her bedroom in England. Her only hope was sitting in a desk in the Ministry of Magic. If Harry Potter could find Voldemort, she would be saved. But would he even realize Voldemort was the one who kidnapped her? Harry thought he had killed the Dark Lord nineteen years ago; Voldemort would probably be the last person he thought of to abduct Felicity. The thought of it only made her cry harder. The tears came so hard and so fast Felicity had a tough time breathing and had to clutch her side for some form of comfort. She fell asleep with wet cheeks and a sore throat.
Morning came and went. Taffy brought a weary Felicity a platter filled with breakfast items. She refused every bit of it except for a glass of water. After telling Taffy not to bother her for the rest of the day, Felicity spent hours inspecting the books on the shelves. Hexes, Curses, and One-Hundred Malicious Spells, Dabble in the Dark Arts, Advanced Wizard Dark Arts Training. Felicity was starting to notice a pattern. After skimming the tamest of the volumes in the bookcases, all Felicity did was stare out the window.
What she saw there was probably going to be the only part of Albania ever made visible to her. She didn't imagine Voldemort letting his precious Horcrux take short walks to the village marketplace. It really was too bad that the view from her window wasn't all that spectacular. Felicity only saw a snow-covered forest and one solitary mountain off in the distance.
Though it wasn't much, the sight of nature was the only thing that kept her sanity going. It reminded her that her life was still out there, and that she could still return to her home and start back up on the road of success as soon as she could back.
As she leaned her forehead upon the cool glass, a dark figure entered her room. Voldemort watched her for a few moments before speaking. But Felicity didn't hear a word of it. She just waited until he stopped talking. She was only vaguely aware that the imposing man had left the room. She was lost in her protective trance. No emotions, she kept telling herself, no emotions, no emotions, no emotions…
A week passed. Each day was strikingly similar to the day before. Felicity would wake up, be served by Taffy (where the witch refused anything greater than water and a piece of toast), peruse the Dark Arts books or spent time writing letters at her desk that she doubted would ever be sent out. Then, Felicity would reject any company for the remainder of the day and stare out the window blankly. She wouldn't eat. The only person allowed in her room was Lord Voldemort – not that she could do much for that situation. And the Dark wizard did come everyday at the same time. Felicity merely heard a cold voice when he talked to her. She never quite heard the words he was saying. Eventually, Voldemort would leave, and Felicity would retreat to her bed.
It was Monday afternoon when Taffy entered Felicity's bedroom unannounced. She carried a very frightened facial expression and hid her hands behind her back. "Mistress?" Felicity didn't answer, but took her eyes off the window to let Taffy know she was listening. "Master is requesting your presence at dinner tonight in the Grand Hall."
"Tell him 'request denied.'" Felicity said a little too snappishly. Taffy looked even more scared.
"He says you'd says that. He wishes Taffy to tell Mistress it is an order and your f-father's life is in danger if Mistress doesn't obey." Felicity sighed while angered bubbled within her. As long as Voldemort kept threatening Felicity's father there was no use defying him.
"Fine. You're dismissed, Taffy."
"But Taffy must also tells Mistress that Master requires you to be dressed accordingly."
"Dressed accordingly…?"
"Yes, Master picked a dress out for Mistress. He hangs it in Missus' wardrobe." Felicity inwardly groaned while rubbed her face with her hands.
"Very well. Leave now, Taffy." Without another word, Taffy snapped her fingers and she was gone. Felicity turned back to the window, but nature no longer captivated her. She wandered over to the chair placed in front of the fireplace and sat, staring at the dancing flames.
It was twenty minutes until Lord Voldemort would make his daily appearance, as tradition dictated, in Felicity's room. He never came.
She glanced out the window. It was almost sunset. Dinnertime. Felicity got up form the comfortable chair and sauntered over to her wardrobe, opening the doors as she arrived. Her dress was there as promised. She gasped a little as she saw it. It was long and black and sleek. It was a halter dress with a plunging V-neckline and a nonexistent back. It was a pretty dress, only Felicity wished she wasn't wearing it for Voldemort. She silently slipped it on and picked a pair of black heels from the bottom of the armoire, which she promptly slid on. Then Felicity grabbed the silk, black shawl that accompanied the dress and glanced at the mirror on the inside of the wardrobe door.
She wasn't the same Felicity as the week before. Though she was usually tall and lanky, she was even more so now that she refused to eat – in fact, she had barely any meat left on her bones. She was five foot nine, a hundred pounds, and without a particularly curvaceous build. She noticed the most dramatic change in her face, however. Her once bright, determined expression was replaced with a rather ghostly figure. Her eyes no longer held the warmness they always used to in the amber depths of her irises. Felicity had dark purple circles under her eyes from dreamless and wary sleeps where she was constantly wondering if someone would decide to enter the room unannounced and decide he no longer needed his Horcrux. The fat had melted off her heart-shaped face and all that was left was a skeleton of who she used to be. Her blond curls hung limply around her face, the golden hair that earned her the name, "Goldilocks," in Auror training was no more; it was dull and browning. Felicity sighed at her failing appearance before angrily shutting the wooden doors and charging for the exit to the room.
Felicity stepped outside her door for the first time since her imprisonment. She let out a little gasp of surprise as she saw Taffy was waiting for her right outside the room. The house-elf gave a look of quiet adoration as she spoke, "Mistress looks very pretty." She paused, with eyes full of admiration. Felicity knew she didn't deserve them. "Taffy is supposed to guide Missus to Grand Hall for Master." Felicity curtly nodded and Taffy led them through the Albanian mansion's hall much like the week before.
They arrived at their destination very soon and stopped in front of cherry wooden double doors. Taffy stretched her full length to reach the golden door handles and swung both of the doors open. The room was gigantic, complete with a large table capable of seating thirty and fireplace that gave the room an eerie shine. She assumed Lord Voldemort would be sitting at the head of the table. He wasn't there, however.
In his stead, a young man sat. He couldn't have been much older than Felicity. He appeared to be tall – taller than even Felicity herself – and had dark features. His authoritative face was shaped nicely with cropped raven black hair and his eyes were a mesmerizing hunter green. Felicity had to admit he was extremely handsome, although flirtation was the furthest thing from her mind in her present situation.
"Please, Miss Tylers, take a seat." He gestured to the seat to the immediate right of him. She walked warily, realizing the oddity that was this young man. Why was he hanging around Lord Voldemort?
"Who are you?" Felicity asked, suspiciously. The attractive man smirked, which surprisingly made him look more attractive.
"I am the owner of this house. The owner of Taffy. The owner of you." It was him. It was Lord Voldemort. Felicity was about to retort that no one owned her, but she just couldn't do it. Probably because he did own her. She did nothing without him knowing about it. "Now, sit. And I must say you do look ravishing tonight, Felicity."
Felicity said nothing but sat in the appointed place. As soon as she was sitting, she turned and looked in the opposite direction of the younger Voldemort. He just smirked again. "I suppose you are wondering how I managed to make myself twenty-five again? It was simple, really. I created a potion to 'turn back time.' Of course, this potion itself took much time to brew, and it required the sand of a time-turner – those are impeccably hard to find these days, you know. Apparently, most all of them were destroyed twenty years ago. Good thing I have my sources, eh? The potion allows the user to return to a physical peak in their lives and relive their years. It isn't a substitute for Horcruxes, though. This potion cannot help you live forever, just live young forever. Shall we eat?" The younger Voldemort shoved a fork full of chicken in his mouth. Felicity just stared at the food.
"Ah, yes. Taffy told me you hadn't been eating but miniscule amounts each day. That's really not healthy, my dear. I wouldn't want my Horcrux starving to death when we're so amply provided for here. Go ahead, have a drink of wine." He motioned towards the glass in front of her filled with red wine, but she did not move. She only looked incredulously at the thing. It would easily be concealed if he had slipped some sort of potion in it. "It isn't poisoned, if that's what you're worried about. I need my Horcrux alive, remember?" Still, Felicity didn't move a muscle. Rage flared in Voldemort's face. He immediately rose from the table, sending the chair flying backwards, and leaned over to Felicity's side of the table. The abrupt movement scared Felicity, but she only clenched up as Voldemort got closer to her. Voldemort took his long and pale fingers and squished Felicity's two cheeks together, which forced her mouth to open. He grabbed the cup of wine from the table and shoved it in Felicity's mouth. She was forced to swallow the liquid as more flooded into her mouth. She coughed and choked before the anger in Voldemort's eyes faded.
He put the cup down as she finished coughing whatever of the liquid she could up again. He calmly returned to his chair, picked it up, and sat in it when placed in the correct position. After combing his hair meticulously back into it's rightful place, Voldemort ordered, "Eat, or on my command your father will die." Anger bubbled in Felicity, but it was no use not eating. She picked up her fork and stuck a bit of chicken in her mouth, all the while a pair of green eyes staring at her. Voldemort immediately smiled as she chewed and swallowed.
Felicity ate in wrathful silence as Voldemort rambled on about various potions and spells. She was only half-listening. Three-quarters of the way done with the meal, Voldemort turned to Felicity. "Stop acting so childish and talk to me, Felicity." He ordered. The anger bubble burst.
"Childish? Childish? You killed my mother, killed my brother, and have my father under a constant death threat and you expect me to act civilized?" She snapped, scathingly. Then Voldemort did something very unsuited to his face, he…smiled, apparently amused by Felicity.
"Not civilized, but I merely ask you provide some entertainment."
"Oh, I'm glad I amuse you, Tom Riddle." Voldemort flinched uncharacteristically at the sound of his true name. Felicity sneered. "That's right. How could I have forgotten? You hate that utterly common name, don't you Tom?" He flinched once more. "I suppose this is what you looked like back when you really were Tom Riddle. Well then, I should call you by your proper name."
Fury flashed through Tom's eyes. He'd always, always despised his name. Tom would have killed her on the spot if he didn't still need her. To prevent himself from doing anything more explosive, Tom screamed, "Leave! Go, now!"
Felicity didn't need to be told twice. On the way out, she picked up the wine glass and threw it on the ground, shattering the crystal. The blond witch retreated to her bedroom, fuming with rage. She suddenly wished she had her wand. Felicity was unprotected against the greatest Dark wizard of all time, and he was angry with her. In summary: she was screwed.
A/N: You know what randomly sounds good to me write now? Gummi bears... Yum... Anyway... How did you like? Just to let you know, Voldy from here on out shall be known as Tom Riddle. Good with you? I hope so because you don't really have a say in the matter. Be my favorite and review!