7. Slytherin Manor

Persephone often wandered the halls of her new home. Everything about it was elegant and refined. The designer had somehow discovered the perfect blend of minimalism and opulence. The colour scheme seemed to be black, grey and green with few exceptions. Black high polished marble would glisten beneath her feet and the walls around her were a simple light grey with white skirting. The high vaulted ceiling depicted wizards in battle, their spells lighting the hallway.

Her favourite room was a sitting room in the east wing on the ground corner floor. The high windows looked out onto a rose garden on two sides with a water feature to the opposite of where the chairs faced out. This room was lighter than the others, pushing aside the expected green fittings for white, cream and light blue. The side without the door leading out to a hallway wasn't painted grey, but was itself a painting. It depicted a forest, silvery mist hanging in the air and the old, willowy trees bowing slightly in a wind. A cloaked girl, on the edge of becoming an adult stood there. Her feet were bare, her arms pale and delicate in the moonlight. Her cloak was a pearly grey, on the cusp of silver. Her delicate wrist bore a simple woven chain around its circumference, attached to the slender hand that rested on the forehead of a black unicorn. The magnificent creature had its' head down, giving the girl easier access to stroke it. The unicorn regarded the girl with its' violet eyes lovingly, a powerful beast that would defer to only one.

If you wanted to find Persephone, this is where she'd be, curled up with a book she had brought with her from her family's collection.

All of which she had read ten times over.

She closed the book with an irritated snap. What was the use of reading it when she had memorized it all from beginning to end? She glared at the book, as if could miraculously fix her problem.

In a way, it did.

"Whatever did that poor book do to you?" asked a smooth, cultured voice. Persephone's head jerked up to look at the doorway.

There, in black robes, stood the man from the party, milord as she had mockingly referred to him. He was a deatheater then, and an important one if he was in their Lord's house. A smirk was playing across his lips.

"I've read it before," she replied, not able to come up with a good excuse.

"Ah," he said as if she had explained everything, which she really hadn't at all. "You don't know where the library is, I take it?"

"That's for the Dark Lord's personal use," Persephone exclaimed, her eyes widening.

"I'm sure he won't mind," he said drily. "Come along," he continued, turning on his foot and breezing back out the door. Persephone scrambled to her feet and hurried after him, to see him striding through the doorway of the room next to the one they were just in.

Persephone followed him through just in time to see him seating himself at their Lord's personal desk.

"Read whatever pleases you," he said, examining one of the pieces of parchment lying on the bench top.

"You can't do that!" cried Persephone, glancing around as if the Dark Lord would come in and Crucio him in any moment.

"You could say I have permission," he replied amusedly.

"You do have permission or you've assumed you have permission?"

"Let's say both."

The Morgana damned infuriating man.

"You are definitely going to get hit by a Cruciatus for this by the way, just so you know."

"Why, Persephone, I didn't know you cared."

Persephone's eyes narrowed. He had found out her name. She didn't know his name! Her pride refused to let her ask just yet, though.

"I don't," she said stiffly. "I don't care about you at all."

His head shot up and his ice blue eyes momentarily shone blood crimson.

"Really," he drawled, standing up smoothly and striding over to where she stood. Persephone backed away and he followed her until she was trapped against a wall. He put one arm up and leaned against it, the other snaking its way around her waist.

Morgana!

He nuzzled her neck, punctuating with small kisses. Persephone's breath hitched, her hands going to his hips to pull him closer automatically. He chuckled into her skin, raising his head only to lower his mouth to hers.

She had forgotten, so caught up in all her dramas as she was, what a good kisser he was. He was rough, but not too much. His tongue left no room for retreat, taking everything she could give and so much more. Her body melted into his, moulding herself around him, her hands going up to tangle in his black hair. She moaned against his lips. His magic cracked around her, so dark and sweet like musk. She arched against him as hand began to slowly inch lower.

"My Lord, you said to come as soon as…" the deatheater trailed off as he took in the scene, blinking as if it would disappear.

He kissed Persephone one last time before turning around to face the deatheater as if he was caught doing this every day, though judging by the deatheaters reaction this was unheard of. Then what had been said caught up in Persephone's mind.

The deatheater had called him 'my Lord'.

With a capital 'L'.

Persephone's lips parted in surprise and a tiny, almost inaudible gasp left her mouth. He must of heard it though, because he turned back to smirk at her.

Him, Lord Slytherin, Tom Marvolo Riddle, the Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, You-Know-Who, Voldemort. The too perfect absolute bastard.

Wasn't he meant to be sixty? Getting on in his year, going grey and committing acts on mass murder on the side? How in the name of Venus does he look like he was twenty-seven at the very most?

Then she realised she had been kissed by the Dark Lord. Twice.

Oh Morgana, this was bad. He was going to catch her for sure.

"Indeed I did, Rosier." They all kind of stood there, Rosier staring at them in fascination.

"Rosier," said Riddle, his eyebrows pulling together.

"Yes, my Lord?" Rosier answered immediately.

"Shoo."

"Yes my Lord, right away my Lord," said Rosier as he bowed and scraped his way out of the room.

When he finally shut the door, Riddle turned around to face Persephone.

"I must be off, my darling," he smirked as she glared at him. "But, I beg of you, please read some of the texts in here. Even a Dark Lord finds murdering books a slight bit excessive," he continued as he strode toward the entrance.

"I'll keep that in mind, Riddle," she hissed as he opened the door, refusing to refer to him as her Lord. He chuckled and glanced over his shoulder at her.

"I think that you are a much bigger riddle than me, Heiress Lestrange. I look forward to finding the answer." He walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Suddenly, a memory popped unbidden into Persephone's mind. 'You were destined to be a riddle, little rose,' Ollivander had said. Her mouth, for the third time that evening, dropped open.

Oh, Morgana.

And Persephone and Tom finally meet up again. A lot more Seph and Tom action to come, and we all meet Allisandra in the next chapter.

Also, go and check out my new fanfic Unspeakable Agents. It's still in its' early stages, but I update very quickly so it won't stay that way for long.

Thanks once again to everyone who F/F/R, you are all angels!

Xxx – Electra2Pandora