A/N: What? I updated? No! That's impossible! I don't update! In all seriousness I am very sorry for my vanishing act (I could sooo be a magician). I hope it won't happen again. But I'm not gonna lie... it will... at least during school it will. Even now I am sacrificing valuable homework time to post this. I apologize to all my readers and sincerely wish to tell you I WILL NOT GIVE UP ON THIS STORY! I adore it way too much for that... anyway, enjoy!

Disclaimer: Um, I've run out of cutsie ways to say this. I don't own Harry Potter or any of its affiliates.

Love Doesn't Exist

Chapter Four

The smell of bacon and sausage woke Felicity from her slumber. The aromas wafted through the space, swirling with the cool bedroom air, to create an utterly delicious scent. The silk sheets of the bed were cold to Felicity's touch as she sat upright. The food was floating towards her, leaving a trail of steam in its wake.

Taffy stood at the foot of the bed, seeming to be in intense concentration. The elf's fingers were close together, as if she had just snapped.

A week and a half had passed since Felicity's dinner encounter with the dashing Tom. In all that time, Felicity hadn't seen the wizard once, nor had she neglected to skip a single meal. Perhaps Felicity was tired of fighting, or rather, perhaps she realized that starving herself wasn't the most rational of plans. As for not seeing Tom, Felicity assumed he was protecting her, protecting her by staying away. He was angry, and she was defenseless. Killing her would just kill himself. So he stayed away, which was perfectly fine for Felicity. She could plan better with fewer distractions.

The tray of food was gently set upon Felicity's lap as Taffy broke her gaze with the platter.

It looked delicious. Bacon and eggs and sausage and toast, all cooked to perfection. It was a shame Felicity was a prisoner in this mansion, for it would have been the best vacation she'd ever had otherwise. "Thank you, Taffy." Felicity stated. She wiped the sleep from her eyes and yawned. Picking up the polished silver fork, she managed to knock a glass of orange juice clumsily. Thankfully, it didn't tip over and the juice remained in the clear container.

It was then Felicity truly took notice to the glass. It was cracked, but still sealed together with an unimaginable force. It looked like a quilt of glass shards, a fantastic puzzle. At first, Felicity just found the magic (for it was undoubtedly magic) beautiful, but her memory suddenly jogged and all the pieces fell into place.

She was livid. Clenching her teeth and hands together, she pursed her lips. How dare he mock her? How dare he? It was the very same wine glass Felicity had shattered the week before. She had thrown it down in raging defiance of Tom. And he hadn't punished her for the act. Well, this was her punishment. She knew exactly what he had done. "He made you bring this to me, didn't he?" Felicity gestured to the cup.

He was the greatest Dark wizard of all time. He could restore the wine glass to perfection; there didn't have to be any hairline fractures, but he wanted them. He wanted them to tell Felicity something. Her defiance didn't go unnoticed, and it was worthless. Tom Riddle can undo whatever horrible act she had committed in disobedience. These actions were useless. There was nothing that could perturb him, save perhaps the use of his real name. And she intended to use that to her advantage.

"Yes, Mistress. Taffy does as she was told. Is it not to the Missus's liking?" Taffy held such adoration for her Master in her squeaky voice that Felicity knew a negative answer would only result in confusion. So Felicity just said, "No, Taffy. It's fine. Thank you for the food. You are dismissed." The elf nodded and vanished from the room.

There was a perceptible emptiness to the room when only Felicity occupied it. It was as if the air turned colder, the space wider, the furniture smaller. Perhaps there was something to be said of Felicity because of that. Perhaps she wasn't one to light up a room, or fill it with her vivacity. And no, this wasn't just because she entrapped in a mansion with a sociopath. She'd always been that way. As if her presence wasn't enough. As if she had to work to fill a room.

Felicity sighed before stabbing a sausage link with her fork. One bite and she craved the rest of it. The meal was mouthwatering. How did Taffy cook this well? Felicity ate all of it, but refused to drink the orange juice. She had much better plans for that.

"Taffy?" Felicity beckoned in a loud voice. Taffy was most likely nowhere near the vicinity of the witch, but she always her call. Seconds later, the elf appeared with a dirty washcloth in hand. She must have been doing the dishes recently.

"Yes, Mistress?" Those big eyes of hers were shining with a happiness to oblige in whatever her "Mistress" required.

"I'm finished with my breakfast, Taffy. It was excellent. Thank you. But I have to ask something of you." Felicity paused, waiting for a reply, but the elf only blinked her eyes in anticipation of the request. Felicity continued. "I need you to take this glass straight to Master Riddle."

Felicity grinned with satisfaction, and perhaps with a bit of a devilish gleam to her eyes. She sent her servant away, leaving the room empty once more.

Felicity decided she would return to her usual place before the window. She had by now moved a chair in front of the giant panes of glass so she might rest comfortably while gazing into the wide expanse of Albania.

The witch searched the top of the snow-covered mountain before her. At first, she was looking for a some sign of life, some way of her possible escape. But not after long, she was reminded of her father. Oh, how he so liked to hike with Jackie! And then she remembered…

Her brother was dead. Those long hikes to the summit were no more. Her father wouldn't be able to handle it. His favorite child dead, his only caretaker thousands of miles away trapped with a sociopath. He wouldn't be able to care for himself without her. He was left to his utter depression alone. Felicity cried for him, cried for her brother, cried for herself.

Mr. Harry Potter's desk was neat… to a troll. Papers were strewn about the surface. Several coffee cups stained with their last liquids were positioned precariously near the edge of the mahogany desk. He had various knick-knacks near a large photo of his family. His wife, Ginny, his sons, Albus and James, and his only daughter, Lily, all smiled at him, waving their hands in excited greeting.

But Mr. Potter couldn't smile back. Not today.

"Ron, no one has seen her since the funeral. If that's what happened to her brother, what will they do to her?" Harry stood from behind his desk, staring directly into the eyes of his friend of thirty years.

Mr. Ron Weasely was pot-bellied middle-aged man with a receding hairline and a terrible wardrobe. His wife had bought him all his clothes. No matter the physicality of the man, he was still a great Auror. He helped defeat Lord Voldemort, for Merlin's sake! But now Ron was arguing with Harry.

"We don't even know if Felicity was abducted. She could have just run off for all we know! Dealing with a brother's death is difficult. Believe me, I know…" he seemed to falter on the last words before regaining his argumentative tone, "I think we should wait another week. If she's not back by the end of the month, we could launch a search party." Harry shook his head. He laid both hands on the very edge of the desk and squeezed tightly.

"I know her. You're forgetting she is the first student I ever taught. I know more about her than she would care to know about herself. She would never leave her family. She couldn't leave her father."

Before another word could be uttered, a young man, about the age of Felicity, burst through Mr. Potter's office door. He had a look of pain – no, agony – on his face. He had auburn hair, just a shade darker than Mr. Weasely's, and grey eyes that seemed to brood. "Tell me it's not true, Mr. Potter. Please!" Harry, knowing exactly what this man was asking, answered accordingly.

"Yes, Scott. It's her. Felicity's gone missing." Scott Fawcett, cousin to Miss Sarah Fawcett who had attended Hogwarts with Harry and Ron, had been away on a mission for the past three months. He had no contact with anyone, except Felicity. He sent the blonde witch letters every week, but she never replied. He had absolutely no reason to believe she was gone.

"B-but how? And why? Is what happened to her brother true too?" His look of panic didn't dissolve. He searched Ron and Harry's eyes. What he found wasn't reassuring.

"Yeah, mate. I found Jack Tylers myself. Whoever did that to him really wanted him dead." Ron stated. He quickly glanced to Harry, who was shooting him a look that clearly said he wasn't helping matters.

"We don't know why the Tylers were targeted. A week and a half after Jack went missing, his body was found at the Shrieking Shack. Felicity has been gone longer than that. She could very well have joined her brother by now." In an instant, Scott's expression of utter despair shifted into a determined resoluteness as he clenched his fists and shoved whatever vestige of emotions he had into the back of his mind.

He stared doggedly into Mr. Potter's eyes and asked, "Request to lead a search party to find Felicity Tylers, sir?" There was something dangerous in Scott's voice, as if he could break at any moment and suddenly commit a mass killing. Harry sighed. He was sure of the search party, but Scott leading it? That's a whole other issue.

"Look, Scott. I know of your previous relationship. You care for her. You want her back. You're willing to eliminate anyone who stands in your way. Sometimes, these emotions are effective, but in this case, we really can't take any chances. You're emotions are dangerous. I don't think your leadership would be a good idea right now. You'd take too many risks for her. Scott, you can be on the search party, but I think it would be better if Malfoy led it." Scott bit his lip so as not to say anything. "I'm sorry, Scott. I want her back too." Mr. Fawcett's face made another change: from determined to incomparable sadness.

"I didn't tell her. I…never told her." Harry nodded, understanding the feeling well.

"Go, Scott. Find Malfoy. Tell him I need to see him." And Scott left as quickly as he came.

Finished feeling sorry for herself, Felicity grabbed a book from the shelf and retreated to the chair in front of the fireplace. She alternated between reading a few lines and watching the flames dance before her.

She suddenly realized how very boring all of this was. For a split second, she almost wished Tom would come for her. If anything, he would provide some interest. But that was only a slight moment…

It was monotonous, dreary. If her life was somehow held within the pages of the book she was reading, the sentences would be long and meaningless. The plot wouldn't have any interesting twists. The action would never come. The ending would just go on…for eternity…

Startled, Felicity dropped the book in her hands to floor, as she heard a knock at the door. It was loud and forceful. Taffy must have been upset. "Yes, Taffy?" The door opened, creaking a little as it was pushed back. Felicity didn't bother to turn to the house elf.

"It's not Taffy, Miss Tylers." Felicity's eyes instantly darted to the voice, decidedly not-Taffy. Of course, as if he had just heard her thoughts, Mr. Tom Riddle appeared in her bedroom.

"Tom?" The man's face hardened at his name, but this time he didn't have quite so volatile a response as at dinner the week before.

"Miss Tylers." Tom's eyes glanced around the room before spotting for what he was evidently looking for. The other chair. He pulled out his wand, as if rubbing in that Felicity couldn't use magic, lifted the chair, and put it right next to Felicity's. She rolled her eyes. He sat down and gracefully cast one leg over the other. "That was quite a daring stunt you pulled today, Miss Tylers. I hadn't expected it." She refused to look at him.

"Then you don't expect much of me, do you?"

"Perhaps I should." Felicity snorted and turned completely away from him while still in the confines of her chair.

"You must forgive my previous actions, Miss Tylers. You, of all people, should know how much I despise that name. And you caught me unprepared. That will not happen again." Felicity was about to make some sarcastic remark to her captor, but suddenly thought of something.

"No." Tom, who still held a slight smirk, had a hint of confusion tinting his eyes.

"No what?"

"No, I won't forgive you." He narrowed his eyes at her, daring her to speak. "You found the exact way to phrase the 'apology' without using the words 'I'm sorry' or actually feeling sorry. So no, I will not forgive you." She finally held his gaze. They were staring – no, glaring – at each other with such disdain that their eyes seemed a corrosive material. The acid burned right through.

"That is perfectly fine, Miss Tylers. I don't need your forgiveness, as long as this doesn't affect our relationship." Tom's false politeness shone through once more. Felicity continued the acidic glare.

"Relationship? Do you call kidnapping a twenty-three-year-old woman a relationship?" Here Felicity 'humphed' with a particularly dramatic flair, "I would call it deranged." They were silent for a few moments. Mr. Riddle held his gaze on the girl almost as if he was calculating, analyzing, judging. Then his velvety-smooth voice broke the tumultuous silence.

"Why do you hate me so much, Miss Tylers?" She leaned across the armrest of the chair towards the Dark wizard and answered with so much loathing Tom could feel daggers.

"You ruined my life." Tom was stunned. She just spoke…Parseltongue? Of course, though Tom felt stunned, he remained stoically sitting his chair, slightly raising an eyebrow. He smirked.

"How so?" He asked, returning the snake language. Her eyes stared into his for a smoldering second before she turned away and glanced towards the window. "How so?" He repeated, this time in perfect English.

Time elapsed while the two said absolutely nothing. The sun was going down. All that could be seen of it was slowly slipping behind the peak of the mountain. This did, however, achieve a remarkable glare across the snow-covered summit. It gleamed with an orangey-yellow happiness that, in turn, reflected onto Felicity's face. Her features were lit up with a brightness only comparable to a child's first lollipop. But the brightness never reached her eyes, which were still completely dark and filled with sadness.

"I was your Horcrux. But no one could have ever possibly guessed that. Everyone thought you were dead. So, when I showed up at Hogwarts, a completely vulnerable eleven-year-old, I was placed on that stool and the Sorting Hat was placed on my head, just as it had been done for hundreds of years before me. The Hat spoke to me… saying I was 'particularly difficult to place' when someone just so happened to let their snake escape from its cage. It slithered to the spot directly in front of me and started speaking to me. I was at Hogwarts. I thought that was normal. I spoke back. I hadn't known I was a Parselmouth before then. Now everyone knew. The Hat knew. I was sent directly to Slytherin, even though my entire family had been Hufflepuffs to that day. No one talked to me after that day. I was a Parselmouth. They all knew that Harry was one because of you, but you were dead. I was a Parselmouth because I was destined to be evil. I was alone my entire seven years at school. I never had friend. After a while, I didn't even want any. And it was all because of you." She chose that exact moment to turn back to Tom. Chills ran down her spine as she saw the expression on him face. Satisfaction. He truly was a cruel man.

"It made you stronger, didn't it? You focused on your studies more than petty friendships, didn't it? Why blame me for your loneliness when you could be exalting me for your success? I may have been the source of your Parseltongue and the failure of your social life, but I gave you so much more in return. You never would have been the witch you are without me. Accept it, and then thank me," Tom insisted, as if this were the most logical explanation of things. Felicity smiled slightly.

"Thank you, Tom," His left eye flinched quickly, "for making it that much easier to hate you." She scoffed.

"You will not get sympathy from me, Miss Tylers. Surely you must now that." She laughed quietly.

"I never asked for any. I was asking you to understand. But you failed. Just as you failed at every other aspect of your pitiful life." Felicity sneered at the man across from her. His jaw hardened as his eyes lit up with a red gleam. He stood up from the chair, walked slowly to Felicity, and stopped right before her. She felt her heart race a little. Tom raised his hand. Felicity closed her eyes and waited for the oncoming blow.

Moments passed. It never came.

When she opened her eyes, Tom was sitting in the chair once more with the book Felicity had been reading earlier in his hands. She looked down. Yes, it was the same book.

Felicity let out a breath she hadn't even realized she was holding. Tom had no response, but kept reading. She turned away from him, slightly off-balance, and glanced back to the fire before her. The flames were no longer their natural red and orange. They were green.

Hours had passed and the two were still sitting there with statuesque expressions plastered onto their faces. Tom, for whatever reason, didn't leave. Though it was well past midnight, he remained reading the book. Felicity alternated between watching Tom and watching the flames of the now green fire. Her eyes grew heavy and she tried to blink the sleep from her them. There was no way she was falling asleep with Tom Riddle still in the room. It was like a silent challenge between the two: would Tom leave first or would Felicity fall asleep first?

She held out another hour, but already she had dozed off several times. Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier until finally they were glued shut. She heard one last thing before oblivion took over…a small chuckle from beside her. And then the world was black.

A/N: So how did I do? Okay? Awful? I hope you enjoyed it. I really enjoyed writing the scene with Harry and Scott. Speaking of which, does anyone have a guess as to who this Mr. Scott is and what his 'previous relationship' to Felicity was all about? Leave the guess in a review and I will answer in another chapter...