Disclaimer: Don't own.

A/N: This and the next chapters are the favorite parts of my story. I've been planning them for a while and I'm glad that I've finally reached the point where I can write all their scenes now.

It would help to read the previous chapters again, though. The timelines are all melding together now.

And damn FFnet for eating all of my line breaks.

Pretending To Live

Chapter 15: Shotgun

"No kidding, Riddle…"

"I'm not," he deadpanned as we stepped over a fallen tree; I cursed as my cloak caught on one of the branches. He stopped when we reached a clearing and surveyed the area. "This should be the place."

I looked around; in the pitch black darkness illuminated only by Riddle's wand I couldn't see much difference between all the rest of the Forbidden Forest and where we were now.

"Are you sure?" I asked dubiously.

He threw me a look.

"Okay then."

"Search the trees," he said, stopping to examine a stray branch. "The Bluenests should be around there. Remember," he added sternly, "a single crack in one of the eggs—"

"—and kaboom, yeah, yeah." He'd told me many times before this expedition for No. 17 on our list of combined ingredients, each time with a pointed look in my direction. "No problem."

I tripped over something—probably something stupid, like an air—and Riddle pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes tightly shut.

"Just find it."

A good length of time later, my eyes were getting tired from straining themselves in the dark. "Did you find them yet?" I called out over my shoulder.

"Not yet," he replied, sounding a good distance away.

"Can we call it a night then? This place is making me nervous."

"May I remind you that you were the one who insisted on accompanying me here, Ariadne," he said, sounding faintly annoyed. "Leave if you have to."

Irritated, I sat down at the base of a particularly tall tree and watched his investigations resentfully. I'd only wanted to come because I hadn't been particularly keen on the idea of him working on his Horcruxes without me.

I yawned at the sky and then choked as something fell into my mouth. Disgusted, I spat out what looked like to be a twig onto my hand—and then gave a shout of fright as it grew legs and scuttled away. I looked up warily in case any more would fall down at any moment and then my eyes spotted something that caught my interest. I stood up and squinted at the branches. "Riddle, what color did you say the Bluenests were?"

A sigh. "What do you think, Ariadne?"

"Come over here for a minute, then." There was the crunching of dead leaves underfoot as he went over to stand next to me. I pointed my wandlight upwards, where high amongst the branches was a flash of brilliant azure. "Is that it?"

"It would seem so," he answered, peering through the gap in the branches.

"Here, then, I'll get it."

"You?" he said skeptically.

"Yeah—it's too high up for Wingardium Leviosa and besides," I began taking off my cloak, "I'm good at this sort of thing."

I threw the garment on one of the low branches and surveyed the tree for a while. "Step back a bit," I warned, and after a moment's disbelief, he did as I asked.

Rocking back and forth on my toes to give myself more momentum, I spring straight up into the air and caught hold of one of the branches. With some effort, I pulled myself up so that I was straddling it and beamed at Riddle on the ground. "Impressed?"

"Hardly," he answered, but he seemed amused.

"Just keep your light on me," I said, readying myself for another leap, "and don't look up, I'm wearing a skirt."

I heard him snort and mutter under his breath as I landed on another branch. I wobbled unsteadily for a minute and dug my nails into the tree's bark to keep my balance.

"What is it?" Riddle said impatiently.

"Haven't done this in a while," I answered shakily. I peered downwards. "It's a lot higher up here than I remembered."

"Don't tell me you're frightened now, Ariadne," he said mockingly and cautiously, I began to climb towards the nest.

"'Course not. I've been doing this since I was a kid."

"Had many opportunities to make Horcruxes, did you?" He said dryly.

"Funny." I hauled myself up another branch and stopped for a moment, slightly out of breath. I called down, "Can you move your light?"

The light shifted in response and I was able to see a clearer path through the branches. "Thanks."

I resumed climbing and after a few minutes, I finally reached the branch with the Bluenest. I stood up, keeping my arms out to the side for balance as I walked towards the end of it. "Here, I've got it."

"Careful—"

"Yeah, yeah." I crouched down slowly and picked out two of the bright blue eggs we needed, removed my sweater and then bundled them safely inside. "See? No prob—oh, dear."

I heard Riddle sigh.

Frozen uncomfortably in a half crouching, half standing position I kept my eyes fixed on the glowing pair of yellow eyes that ha d appeared suddenly in the darkness in front of me.

Maybe if I move slowly it won't notice me, I thought and slid backwards an inch. Immediately, an ear-splitting growl filled the air and I swore loudly, scuttling backwards.

"What was that?" Riddle's voice sounded alarmed.

"Nothing," I said in a very high pitched voice. A strange hissing noise alerted me to the creature sliding forward into the light of Riddle's wand and my jaw dropped open. At first glance, it appeared to be an ordinary dog, although admittedly larger and more terrifying than any other dog I'd previously seen, except for the second thrashing head growing out of its neck that snapped and foamed at the other without surcease. And then when I thought things couldn't get any worse I noticed its tail hovering above its body—and the fact that its tail was a snake. It growled and then I also noticed its very long and very sharp teeth.

"Nice doggy," I breathed and the snake-tail reared its head and hissed at me.

"Ariadne, whatever you're doing, you had better stop," Riddle warned.

If I try climbing down with that thing following me… I'm a goner. If I fall, the eggs might break and I'd be incinerated! What to do…

"Riddle, get ready."

"What?"

Holding the bundled sweater protectively close to my chest, I swore, cried a little, and rolled off the branch.

"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AARRRRRRGGGGHHHHHH—"

The wind whipped against my face and made my eyes stream as I plummeted downwards towards the Forest floor. I heard the confused whine of the enormous dog above and I yelled and screwed my eyes shut as the ground flew towards me.

"-AAAAAAAAAAAA—oof!" Riddle and I collapsed to the ground and sobbing, I threw my arms around him. "Oh thankyouthankyouthankyouthan kyou—"

"Ariadne, if you do not remove yourself, so help me—"

Hurriedly I scrambled off of him and unwrapped the bundle in my arms. By some miracle they were still intact and I shouted in relief and triumph.

"By all means, draw more monsters towards us," Riddle snarled and I shut up. He sat up, looking less pristine than normal and winced, holding his ribs.

"We've got it," I said, "the last ingredients for your Horcruxes. We're almost there."

888

"We're almost done," Riddle said one sweltering afternoon in the Room of Requirement, when we were working on my potion.

"You don't say," I said wiping beads from my forehead. I had stripped down to my oxford shirt and skirt long ago, leaving the rest of my clothes in a jumble on the floor and after a few stubborn hours, Riddle had done the same. "That's fantastic."

"I just need something else."

"Shoot."

I glanced at him and then froze when I saw him pick up the silver knife on the table and twirl in his fingers. He smiled. "Blood."

I winced. "A lot of it?"

"Don't tempt me," Riddle said. "A few drops should suffice."

I winced again. "Can't you use what you took when you interrogated me?"

"I'm saving that for a rainy day," he replied dryly. He nodded his head at the desk. "Sit."

I sat on the desk, tucking my skirt under my legs self consciously and Riddle stood in front of me. I unwilling held out my left hand.

He met my eyes. "Right hand."

Even more unwillingly, I held out my right hand. Riddle took it, his skin cool against my own and opened it. He lightly traced the scars there with a long finger. "Where did you get these?"

"I've had them for as long as I can remember," I said quietly, after a moment. "The day my parents died…I woke up and my hand was bleeding, but I can't remember from what."

"How did they die?" Riddle asked. I noted that the usual 'I'm sorry' did not come my way.

"They were murdered. By a bad man."

"Your Boggart," he said and it wasn't a question.

I sighed. "You're too clever for your own good, Riddle."

"So they tell me," he muttered.

"Dumbledore, you mean."

He looked at me. "Very astute, Ariadne."

"He doesn't trust you," I said.

Almost instinctively, his lips pulled back from his teeth in a slight snarl. "Why should I care what the old fool thinks?" he sneered. "Why should I fear someone who will be long dead while I, Lord Voldemort, will live forever?"

I said nothing. Gradually, the red dimmed from his eyes and when he looked at me again, they were grey once more.

"Did I frighten you?" he said.

"You're certainly making me question my decisions," I said quietly. "But I owe you too much not to continue."

"Gryffindors." He smirked and pressed the point of the knife against my palm.

"Careful."

There was a small flash of pain and he added my blood to the cauldron. It hissed violently and its color darkened from a pale silver to almost pitch-black. I thought about our conversation; that had been the first time he had ever mentioned his other name to me. It had seemed almost like an unnoticed slip. He must have already begun thinking of himself as 'Lord Voldemort' very early in his teenage years…

He handed me a flask and I downed it without question.

"How do you feel?" he said, watching me closely as I set it down.

I shook my head; a bucket materialized next to me and I threw up neatly into it.

"Perhaps it's not as complete as I thought," Riddle said.

"Nope," I replied between retches, "don't think so."

"Something must be missing," he said thoughtfully.

As I threw up in the bucket again, I hoped fervently that whatever it was, it tasted better than this crap.

888

Riddle was half sitting, half lying down on his bed. There was a book in his hands but he wasn't reading it; his mind was too preoccupied to fulfil even his favorite pastime.

Ariadne was going to die, very soon. She said that the pain was subsiding, that she was only tired but Riddle had done enough research on degenerative diseases similar to her corpus defessum to know that as the illness progressed, it began to focus its attack on the victim's strength until they had none left. Then, unable to support itself, the immune system failed. Then the respiratory system and then finally the heart would give out. Corpus defessum was a vicious affliction... and on her in particular.

For the fifth time that evening alone, he considered leaving her to die. Again, he decided against it. Although her idiot friends apparently did not seem to notice, the fool Dumbledore seemed to suspect something going on between her and himself. If she were to die, or even disappear now…

And then there was the matter of his Horcruxes. He had to admit that Ariadne had been far more informative than he would have expected. He was so close.

But first, her corpus.

He closed his eyes. He had an idea of what ingredients, what materials he needed to finish the potion, but obtaining them was something else…

He frowned as a memory stirred.

"What is it, Adarius?" he said indifferently, twirling his wand between his fingers.

"Ah-ah…" Rookwood struggled to compose himself. He cleared his throat. "I-It's about the…er…materials you required me to get." Here Riddle's head swiveled slowly in his direction to stare at him. "I-I couldn't—it's proving very difficult to…"

"Adarius…" Riddle said slowly. "What are you blathering on about?"

He groaned and left the room.

Riddle found Rookwood sitting by the fire in the Slytherin common room, surrounded by his seemingly unfinished homework.

"Rookwood," Riddle said.

He jumped violently in his chair; his inkpot turned over onto his essay and he swore. "Yeah—er—yes my Lord?"

"About the materials I asked you to procure for me. You gave them to me, yes?"

Rookwood paled, remembering his Cruciatus.

"Where did you get them?"

"Er—well, you told me to get them from the cellar at the Three Broomsticks."

"I see," Riddle said.

Hesitantly, Rookwood asked, "Er—are you—um—well, my Lord?"

"Perfectly so," Riddle said without looking at him. "Goodnight, Rookwood."

Rookwood stared crestfallen at his retreating figure.

Riddle sighed as he left the common room. He had performed the Cruciatus curse on the Slytherin when he had informed him that he had given the ingredients to his Future self, although Rookwood had known it at the time. Although he did not regret it, he did feel the loss of wasted effort, especially seeing as he now had to collect them from Rookwood's past self.

Of course, after ordering his Past self to get them in the first place.

Riddle removed the Locket around his neck and turned it in his palm. There was the dizzying sensation of falling and then suddenly he was in the Hogwarts Library. He found Rookwood in one of the less visited aisles bulling a terrified Gryffindor first year and he rolled his eyes.

"Rookwood," Riddle said.

Sneering, the other boy looked up. "What—" he stopped, his face paling and Riddle couldn't help but slightly enjoy the reaction for the second time. The Gryffindor student ran off and Rookwood coughed nervously. "Er, yes my Lord?"

"I have a task for you." He didn't wait for his acquiescence before continuing, "When is the next Hogsmeade day?"

Rookwood looked bewildered. "Er—this Friday."

"I want you to go down into the cellar of the Three Broomsticks and procure a few items for me. You had better write this down."

Rookwood hastily grabbed some spare parchment and began to scribble notes as Riddle dictated them. Riddle watched in satisfaction; this is why he chose Rookwood over all the rest; he followed his orders without question. "But won't they notice a whole lot of their stuff is missing?"

"Leave that to me," Riddle said lazily. "Get Mulciber to come with you if you can't carry it all. Are you finished?" He said, nodding at his notes.

"Er—" Rookwood glanced down at the parchment but by the time he looked up, Riddle was already gone.

Back in the present Slytherin common room, the Heir of Slytherin sighed, massaging his temples. He had to create a distraction and he already had an idea of how we would do it. It disgusted him, but it certainly cleared up a lot of unresolved questions. How could he argue with the past anyway?

He turned the Locket in his hand once more and vanished.

888

"…do you understand it now, Ari?" Hermione asked me as we sat, poring over textbooks in the Library.

"Yeah, sure. No. No, not really."

"Well," she said, sighing, "these charms are fairly advanced. I don't think we're even supposed to learn the theory until late next year."

"They're interesting, though, aren't they?" I said halfheartedly as I flipped through the pages of the textbook in front of me. I felt slightly guilty for using Hermione to help me understand some of the theory behind the spells used for Riddle's Horcruxes, but there was no way I could understand it by myself.

"Yes, they're fascinating," Hermione said, frowning. "It's strange, though, I—"

I began to make notes on one of the paragraphs. "What? Whoa," I had looked up to see her frozen mid gesture. I glanced around; she wasn't the only one. Then there was the sound of approaching footsteps and I turned towards the noise. "Riddle? We didn't have a meeting today, did we?"

"I have something for you," he said, sitting down at our table.

"You shouldn't have!" I mocked a gasp.

His face was completely deadpan. "I know." He produced a vial from his pocket and set it on the table in front of me. I looked at it for a long time and then back at him, all humor gone from my face. Riddle nodded, answering my silent question.

Carefully, I picked it up. I uncorked it and held it up to my lips. Seconds later I was coughing, the vial rolling from my hand as fire ran through my limbs, burning its way into my bones. When it finally subsided, it was as if years of tiredness had been lifted from me; millennia of aches and pains. I felt…new.

Riddle studied my face intently and when I met his gaze, he nodded in satisfaction. "It works, then." He pocketed the now empty vial and stood up. "I'll make more tonight; I'll see you in the Room then."

I stared at him as he left. I owed him my life. I had to say something.

I didn't.

"—never thought that you were much of a reader, Ari," Hermione finished and then stopped. She peered closer at me. "Did you do something to your hair?"

I touched it self consciously; it was certainly smoother and shinier than it was minutes ago. "I've been eating a lot of eggs lately."

"Er…"

I glanced back at the entrance again.

888

I made contented, orgasmic noises as I sank into my hot bath. Breathing in the heavy, perfumed air I played with the bubble taps—although the girl's bathrooms were nowhere near as grand as the Prefects', the cut it fairly close in my book.

I felt like celebrating. After months of stress and working into the wee hours of the night I finally, finally had all the Time in the world to just…relax. I wasn't dying anymore. I could afford to lose track of the hours again.

Tonight, I would take my final dose of my corpus potion and that was it; I would be cured and this whole experience would seem like a bad dream. Thanks to Riddle.

Lazily pointing my wand at the tap to shut it off, I submerged my head under the water.

It must have taken him a while, I thought dreamily. If there was anyone in the world who could find a cure for an incurable disease, of course it would be him. I wonder how he finished it…I wonder how he finished my potion…

In my hand, my wand twitched.

And then I was coughing, spluttering and shivering as the bath disappeared and I was skidding along the wooden floor of a vaguely familiar room. Gasping for breath, I looked wildly around; the surroundings taking awhile to register in my disorientation.

I was in the Three Broomsticks.

The sheer bizarreness of the realization almost made me laugh but when I heard footsteps coming up from the cellar, my humor quickly turned into panic.

I was in the Three Broomsticks…bare-ass naked.

I mouthed the foulest and most improbably string of curses I knew and ducked down behind the counter as Madam Rosmerta emerged from the stairs, humming cheerily to herself as she began to sweep the floor of the pub. Meanwhile my mind whirled with the possibilities—how did I get here? Maybe I was hallucinating, maybe something funky in the bubble bath…or perhaps…

I glanced at my wand.

The bell at the entrance rang and I ducked down lower, grabbing one of the nearby dishcloths to cover myself. I peeked over the counter at the people who entered.

"We don't open till later," Madame Rosmerta said firmly. "You'll have to come back—"

"Imperio!"

I stifled my gasp and watched with wide eyes as Madame Rosmerta's expression turned dreamy and the broom clattered from her hand.

"Good girl," Rookwood said.

"Where did you learn that?" said the other person, a younger unfamiliar Slytherin boy.

"I have my sources," Rookwood replied smugly. "C'mon, we don't have much time."

They headed down into the cellar and I swore again under my breath. Now of all times would be the best time to leave—but I doubted I'd fare much better outside dressed—or undressed—as I was.

"Won't they have noticed all this stuff we've tooked?" Their voices were loud enough to be eard throught he floorboards.

"Nah," said Rookwood. "It's taken care of."

"Howd'yoo mean?"

"I was informed that there'd be a distraction," he responded in the same superior tone. "No one will be concerned by a few missing ingredients by the time today's over."

"What sort of distraction?" The other said interestedly.

"That's—none of your business, Crabbe" Rookwood said after a moment's pause.

"Why's I'm even here anyways? I thought you got Mulciber to go with you last time."

"That sod left me behind in the cellar."

Crabbe sniggered and the sounds of boxes shifting resumed.

What were they doing there? What was I doing here? I glared at my wand. It had to be it that brought me here—my corpus wasn't potent enough to bring me through time anymore. Was I back in time?

I couldn't get my head around it. And, in the name of everything holy was it cold.

Grimacing, I tried to snag another dishcloth dangling off the edge of the counter. I didn't notice the glass mug sitting on it and another voracious stream of curses left my mouth as it fell to the floor with an almighty crash.

I heard the voices in the cellar stop and then the thundering of footsteps up the stairs as the two boys returned.

"What was that?" Crabbe said.

"Dunno," responded Rookwood. "Go check the counter."

"You ain't my Keeper, go check it yourself."

There was a loud thumping sound and a grunt of pain.

"Orright, orright, I'll do it…"

Alarmed, I shrank back into the back of the counter as I heard the sound of his approaching footsteps. I fought to keep a cool head—I could take these two. Steal their clothes and run…

His footsteps grew closer and I raised my wand.

"Wait!"

I held my breath.

"Someone's coming!" Rookwood hissed.

"Then let's go—"

"We can't be spotted! Get back into the cellar!" The sounds of rushed footsteps and then an irritated sigh. "Hang on, I gotta get her back—wipe the counter of something, will you?"

I wondered who he was talking to until Madame Rosmerta was suddenly in front of me, vacant eyed and slack jawed. I let out a muffled yell but she didn't appear to take notice of me even as she bent down, tugged the dishcloth which I clutched protectively over my chest from me and began to hypnotically polish the wooden counter. I stared at her with my mouth open.

The entrance bell rang again.

"Hello? Ah Rosmerta, love, pour us a pint will you?"

Robotically she began to do as the customer asked and when she was finished, returned to wiping the counter. The noise swelled as more and more people entered the shop and I sighed despairingly into my arms. It looked like I had no choice but to wait until my wand decided to bring me back.

Urgh, this breeze did not feel good.

"That's Madame Rosmerta," I heard a very familiar voice say. "The owner of the Three Broomsticks…blimey, she looks exactly the same…"

And then I remembered the situation through different eyes.

"Nothing," Draco snapped. "Are we going to go inside or what?"

…There was a large counter ahead, covered with a variety of strange and rather poisonous looking drinks. A curvy woman with wavy blonde hair and a pretty face was wiping the top of the counter with a rather dazed expression on her face and I watched her curiously.

"That's Madame Rosmerta," said Harry sounding rather baffled himself. "The owner of the Three Broomsticks...blimey, she looks exactly the same…"

I gasped, loudly and audibly. I couldn't help myself; I peeked over the counter.

There we were. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Draco…and me. I t was surreal seeing my face backward but it helped lessen the strangeness of the situation, made it seem like I was just seeing someone that looked very much like me—although more sickly and with shorter hair—rather than my actual doppelganger.

I watched us leave (after what looked like my sixth Butterbeer); out of the corner of my eye I saw Rookwood and Crabbe emerge from their hiding place and make for the entrance at the same time. With rising trepidation, I saw myself crash into the former.

"Oh, I'm so sorry—here," I heard myself say in a voice that sounded completely alien to me as I bent to pick up their fallen items.

"I don't need your help, Mudblood," Rookwood snarled.

Horrified, I watched the scene unfold. I saw and I remembered

I knew what was going to happen next.

"What are you staring at?"

"Nothing…"

I knew what was going to happen next.

I watched the confrontation between Harry and Rookwood; watched Crabbe slink away in the background.

I couldn't do anything.

Hermione's scream, as frightening as I remembered it. "Harry!"

I couldn't do anything!

There was the sound of fireworks; a flash of bright, vivid green. And then the screaming started.

"No!" I yelled and my wand shuddered violently in my grip.

I emerged out of the water, spluttering and gasping for air. What had I…I had just seen…

Riddle had made Rookwood get the last ingredients. He had caused the "distraction" that Rookwood had been talking about…he had—

Anger, hot and sick, filled me. I glanced at the wallclock; I had been gone for nearly three hours. I scrambled out of the tub and dressed without drying myself and then I ran for the Room of Requirement.

He wasn't there yet. I sat down on the red couch in the center of the room and tried to take a calming breath but it came out in short, ragged gasps instead. I stood up and began to pace around the room.

The effects of the previous dose was fading; I could feel myself getting weak again but I stubbornly stayed standing, my hands balled into fists at my sides.

The door opened and my head snapped towards it, watching Riddle as he entered. He looked tired, and there were deep circles underneath his normally sharp grey eyes.

"Ariadne," he said, sounding faintly surprised. "You're early." He frowned. "Why are you all wet?"

"Where were you?" I said.

He seemed to recognized the hostility in my voice and he stopped, studying me, taking in my rigid posture. "I was finishing your final dose," he said coolly. "As you should already know by now."

"Right. Because you tell me everything, don't you?" I hissed.

His eyes glowed red. "If you have anything to say to me Ariadne, I suggest you think very carefully before doing so."

"I know where you got the last ingredients!" I shouted at him. "I know that you let Grindelwald's men into Hogsmeade, that day! I know that you are responsible for the deaths of the students—"

"How do you know this?" He said sharply.

"I was there!' I growled. "In the Three Broomsticks. I saw everything."

I could almost see the gears in his head whirring as he stared at me, his eyes hard and calculating. "Well it is none of your concern anymore, Ariadne," he said coldly. "After all, it is in the past, is it not? And believe me, I am not in the mood for your incoherent babble tonight."

I called him a word I had only ever heard around my orphanage before and his eyes reddened with anger.

"Drink your potion," he hissed, "before I kill you myself."

"No," I spat defiantly.

His face like thunder, Riddle took one menacing step towards me, his wand drawn but mine was already out.

"Tempus," I sneered, "over phoenix feather. Or have you forgotten?"

He bared his teeth just slightly, raising his wand but then seemed to think the better of it and turned away. Furiously, I stowed my wand back inside my robes and then almost immediately regretted it as, as premeditated and graceful as a snake striking at its prey, Riddle swiveled around and leapt at me.

We landed on the couch; I struggled as he held me roughly down, moving so that he was straddling me, my arms pinned down by his knees and one of his hands around my throat. I tried to kick out but he snarled ferally and tightened his grip, making me choke and gasp for air. He hissed something seemingly unintentionally in Parseltongue at me and with his other hand removed the vial of my potion from his robes, ripping off the cork with his teeth.

In stunned shock, I watched him tip its contents down his own throat. "Riddle," I choked out, "what are you—"

He silenced me by pressing his mouth hard against mine and my mind went completely blank. Then, I recognized the bittersweet taste of my potion as he forced the liquid out of his mouth into my own and my senses returned to me as I fought against his weight, but to not avail. He responded by pushing down with bruising force that didn't let up even as I bit down on him, hard enough o taste blood.

It was too late. I felt the telltale thrumming in my limbs and knew that the final dose had already worked its effect. He felt it when I gave up and, panting, he sat up, his eyes never leaving mine as he wiped the blood from his mouth with his sleeve.

"Get off me," I said. After a long moment, he did as I asked and I pushed myself upright, not looking at him as I tested the new strength in my bones. I opened and closed my hands; I curled it into a fist.

Then I let that sucker fly at his face.

I was gratified to see that I was now strong enough to send him reeling back into the couch.

"You deserved that," I said.

"Perhaps," he replied, wincing as he gingerly fixed his bloodied nose with a wave of his wand, "but you are alive. And for that, you owe me."

I stood up; I stared at him sprawled elegantly against the dark red velvet, his dark hair disheveled, the imprints of my teeth from where I bit him scarlet against his pale skin.

"You'll have your first Horcrux by the end of the week," I said coldly and then I left.

888

After that night, I didn't see Riddle for days—partly because now that I was cured we were no longer required to work on my potion and partly because I was, well, avoiding him.

It wasn't just that he practically mouth raped me on the couch—although that was admittedly a large part—but that as the day of the creation of his first Horcrux grew steadily closer, the more uneasy I became.

The 'set up' was ready. But there was still the question of what "splitting your soul" entailed and that was the murder of another human being.

I wouldn't back down from our deal, but I felt sick at the thought of fulfilling this condition. Who were supposed to choose? Did we get a choice? Did I get a choice? These weren't cattle we were picking to send to slaughter, but people.

I brought up the subject to Riddle only once, on our final meeting before I partially fulfilled my end of the deal.

"Whose death are you planning on using?" I said abruptly.

Having been casually drinking tea on the red velvet couch as he scanned the Daily Prophet, Riddle became very still, all semblance of ease gone. He didn't answer.

I walked over to where he was sitting and stood over him. "I need to know."

"My mother's," he said coldly.

I exhaled slowly. He watched me as I pondered this. I sat down next to him and took the newspaper out of his hands.

"Weather's clear tomorrow and the day after," I said. "Your pick."

"The day after," he said, after a moment's thought.

"Okay."

Perhaps I should have thought about it more, the idea of using his mother as the death for his Horcrux. I remembered that she had died giving birth to him, but I wasn't certain that her death could be used in this way…but still, death was death, and if there was any sort of way possible to hold off the real murders…

The next day, I was headed to the bathroom when I slammed into someone, hard.

"Watch where you're going—"

"Why don't you shove your—oh." I was face to face with Draco for the first time in weeks. I bent down and retrieved my books from the floor from where they had spilled out of my bag. "Hi, Draco."

"Ari," he said coolly but he hovered uncertainly until I stood up with my books in my arms. "You look…better."

"Yeah," I said guiltily. "I, uh, got some rest."

His eyes narrowed. "You aren't still throwing yourself after that snake—"

"No," I said honestly. "Not anymore."

His expression softened and he shifted uncomfortably.

"Listen, if you still need help… I mean, I know I haven't exactly been…even though it was your fault—"

"It's fine," I said, equally uncomfortable. "I think my corpus, you know…kind of like acne, it just clears up on its own, I guess."

"…"

"…"

"Well," he said after a minute's silence, "I should go…I have a project with Mulhorn…"

"Yeah, I—I gotta pee."

"…"

"…"

"Bye, Ari," he said.

"Yeah, see you—Draco?" I called out at his retreating figure. He turned around. "Um. I missed you, brother."

His expression softened lightly. "I didn't. See you in Potions, you buffoon."

Amused, I watched him flip his hair and strut, Malfoy-like in the other direction. Feeling much happier than I had been in weeks, I strolled into the girl's bathroom.

I looked into the mirror, something that I had made my habit in the past few days. It was amazing to see the difference in such a short period of time. My face seemed fuller and had more color; my eyes—which I had vainly always thought were my best feature, wide and dark as they were—somehow more alert. Even my teeth seemed nicer.

I sighed and began to tie up my hair which was getting long enough to be a bother in this windy weather. I felt faintly homesick as I used a silk ribbon instead of my old hair elastics and after I glanced in the mirror one more time, I left for Advanced Potions.

"Don't be late next time, Miss de Lioncourt," Slughorn said, sternly wagging his finger at me after I muttered my apology. I moved to my desk but stopped when I saw that the other seat was empty.

"Mr Riddle hasn't turned up yet," Slughorn said, noticing me. "Probably busy with his Prefect duties, I wouldn't be surprised…"

"Ari," Harry called out and I went over to join him and Draco.

"Hiya," I said.

He frowned. "You haven't seen Riddle today, have you?"

"No."

"There hasn't been a Knights meeting in weeks," he said looking deeply troubled. "I think he's up to something."

"Relax, Potter," Draco yawned, prodding halfheartedly at his cauldron and causing it to spark ominously. "He's probably off killing Muggles or something."

"Don't joke about that," I said uneasily. "And it's Evans."

"Whatever."

"It's just strange," Harry said, frowning. "Not too long ago, he was setting his Basilisk on the students and now, nothing. Why's he so quiet?"

"I wouldn't worry about it," I said. But even as I said it I couldn't help but wonder about his sudden absence. I was sure that it wasn't anything serious; I knew that by tooth and by nail, Riddle would be there tomorrow.

Yet as the day passed I didn't even catch a glimpse of him in the halls nor his usual classes. I don't even know why I noticed, but something about his disappearance inexplicably irked me. He wasn't at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, nor his usual corner in the Library.

As a last resort, I went into the Room of Requirement.

"Riddle?" I called as I entered. Silence replied. Warily, I looked around; the Room had transformed so that it was filled with long workbenches again. I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw the large cauldron set on top of the front desk in the middle row. It was still bubbling.

Cautiously, I dipped my pinky finger into it and tasted its contents; I spat it out and swore loudly. I whirled around and ran for the door.

On cue, I was struck by a pain so excruciating that I fell to my knees, my wand clattering to the floor. I screamed in agony—this was so much more than any hurt I had experienced before. Everything was red; my body and my mind felt like it was being ripped slowly, lovingly into halves.

I felt like I was being charred alive.

I screamed and screamed until I didn't recognize the sound of my own voice, until I didn't even know if I was making any sound anymore because there was nothing but the agony of death…

And then it stopped.

Gasping and crying, I pulled myself clumsily upright.

Everything looked whitewashed and unreal and there was a faint ringing noise in my ears. I looked down to see my wand, still clattering and shaking on the floor and I grasped it.

An image flashed into my mind.

"Riddle," I whispered and then I took off running.

Something was wrong with my eyes. There were lines—red lines—everywhere I ran, even wrapped around the students I passed, and around me, bind my hands and my wand together and spilling and intercrossing everywhere. I couldn't feel them, but I could see them. Lines…or threads.

I ran out of the castle and sprinted into the Forbidden Forest where the lines abruptly vanished. I ran deep into the Forest until I couldn't distinguish the sky from the tops of the trees and strange, silent predators turned towards me as I passed them.

I finally burst into the clearing that we had agreed on, wildly searching. There he was.

I stumbled to his unconscious body in the center of the clearing. Despite the ashen grey pallor of his skin, his face seemed peaceful and his chest rose and fell rhythmically; he looked for all the world as if he were merely sleeping.

Surrounded by the charred remains of the forest floor, it was a strange sight to see.

I collapsed next to him.

"You complete arse," I said tiredly. "Why did you try and do it without me?"

I searched around him for his diary, but to no avail. Then, something silver and glimmering caught my eye and gently, I prised it from his stone cold hand, wincing when I saw the scar burned there.

I wiped the blood from the First Locket.

A/N: Review, please. Hope you enjoyed.