AUTHOR'S NOTES:

This was my entry for the 2015 HP DarkArts Horror Fest (hp-darkarts . livejournal . com). This is a multi-chaptered story. I'll post up a chapter for you every few days until it's done.

PROMPT: #65 – An abandoned playground. Squeaky swinging swings when there isn't a breeze for miles. Any of the next gen children.

Thanks to lj user "amorette" who came up with this fantastic prompt that tickled my muse! Hope you like it!

Thank you to my beta, YW. I appreciate how painstakingly precise you were in your revisions, and the suggestions made were fabulous! Three revisions & we finally finished it!

Thank you to the awesome Mab for hosting this fun fest, and for your immense support & understanding.

Please review, if you would!

P.S. There were some changes to this piece since the fest version. Please check them out, starting here in Chapter 1!

Revision 1.0: April-May, 2015

Revision 2.0: August-September, 2015

Disclaimer: "Harry Potter" is the property of J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, and Warner Brothers. This fanfiction was written entirely for fun, not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Timeline: Post-Hogwarts, Epilogue compliant

Main Characters: Lily Luna Potter & Tom Riddle; Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter

Summary: Lily Luna Potter was seven years old the first time she noticed the rusted metal columns of the playground stretched against the stark, grey London skyline.

Warnings: Drama-Angst, Drug addiction, Innocence corrupted, Implied Secondary Character death (off-screen), Reincarnation of a horcrux

THE PLAYGROUND (alternatively, "The Flight of Icarus")

By: RZZMG

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Come play with me…

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Lily Luna Potter was seven years old the first time she noticed the rusted metal columns of the playground stretched against the stark, grey London skyline.

It was mid-October when the song of decaying iron carried on the autumn wind, its sharp, tangy melody turning her head in the direction of the abandoned park. The flavour of it in the air was grating, like an old coin scraped against one's front teeth, its metallic and stale tune as polluted as the industrial air of the city all around. Still, it was an enchanting hymn to a child's imagination…

'Blood and memory… something living, something dead… and a soul in trade.'

The child's nursery rhyme played out in her head in a demented 'Ring a Ring o' Roses' tune.

The squeaky wooden swings tucked behind the park's rickety fence line were riddled by weather, their paint curling like mouldy orange rinds. The old roundabout groaned as the brisk fall breeze turned it on its decaying centre pin. The ancient seesaw was a wounded soldier, its seats filled with holes and its joints stained with an oily, black residue. Dirty, yellowing leaves littered the playground's greyish, limp grass.

At first, she'd thought it to be just another forgettable and forgotten Muggle place, like the empty storefronts that lined the High Streets her Great Auntie Petunia liked to visit before she'd caught the kind of lurgy that made her cough blood and gasp for her oxygen tank to be turned up, but as she tugged against her mother's hold on her wrist, Lily began to suspect the empty lot was unlike any place she'd ever seen before.

I'm over here, the forgotten equipment seemed to call out to her, and she'd asked her mother why everyone had abandoned such an interesting place.

Even at such a tender age, she'd known what such a grown-up word as 'abandoned' meant. It meant someone didn't love you anymore, that they didn't care enough about you to come around and take care of you like they should. That they'd lost interest in you, and they'd found something else to take your place.

It's what her mother had frequently said her father had done to them, abandoned them "for that filthy Parkinson woman."

"Come along, Lily," her mother said, her tone clipped as she tugged on Lily's wrist. She was impatient to get them out of Muggle London as soon as possible, clearly uncomfortable by the very presence of those who lacked magical talents. She seemed terrified of being robbed by the crowd, in fact, holding tightly onto the paper bag with the medicines that nice Asian shoppe owner had proscribed her. "We've got to get home quickly."

With a final look over her shoulder, Lily cast the abandoned playground one last longing glance and then allowed herself to be pulled about by her mum all the way to the closest Apparition point, several blocks away.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

See me…

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The next time they went past the playground was several weeks later, when her mother's medicines had run out, and this time, Lily saw something different through the metal links of the fence: a boy, sitting on the swings. He looked up at her as she went past.

"Mummy, who is that?" she asked, pointing at strange boy with the dark hair and the funny-looking uniform. Were those short trousers? Maybe he was in a private school.

"Where?" her mother asked, without ever looking in the direction Lily pointed. Her mother was focussed on the crosswalk light across the street from them, waiting for it to turn. Her sweaty grip on Lily's hand was almost painful, as if she feared losing her daughter while surrounded by Muggles and Muggle automobiles.

Lily peered up at her mum, noticing for the first time the line of sweat above her top lip and the glassy look in her eyes. "Mummy, are you alright?" she whispered, forgetting about the boy and the playground, huddling closer to her mother.

"I'm fine," her mother barked at her, then seemed to realise that people around them were now staring at her and amended her tone. "I'm fine, sweetheart. We're almost there."

They crossed the street, heading for the Chinese medicine shoppe her mum had visited the last time they were down here. It wasn't until Lily reached the other side that she glanced back at the playground.

The boy was gone.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Don't pass me by again…

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The next time they passed the playground, it was almost the end of spring.

Lily's mum had to stop and rest on a nearby bench before crossing the street. She'd claimed to need only a short breather, but was perspiring so heavily that her face was beet red. She took to fanning herself with a discarded newspaper to avoid using magic in front of so many Muggle witnesses.

Her delay gave Lily time to glance through the rusted grate at the playground.

The boy was there again. He was sitting on the roundabout as it slowly turned around and around. When he noticed her watching him, he stopped the carousel whirling with a single foot and tilted his head, as if he were as curious about her as she was about him.

Lily stared back, unsure if it waving would be appropriate. She'd always been taught not to be too friendly to strangers, especially non-related children, because one never knew if they were part of the magical world or not, and an accidental mention of magic around a Muggle could get her and her family in trouble with the Hit Wizards.

As her mum recovered on the shaded bench, paying her absolutely no attention, Lily and the boy gazed at each other across the distance, sizing each other up. Who are you, she finally mouthed, but she wasn't sure he could see her lips from where he stood to read them.

A slow, excited smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He had understood her!

Crooking a finger at her, he attempted to entice her into crossing the fence line and joining him.

Lily's first instinct was to shake her head, which she did. Then, she again peeked over at her mum sitting on the bench, hand over her closed eyes, and knew a chance to sneak off when she saw one. Her Uncle George would be proud of her for daring her mother's wrath, she knew, as she searched for an opening in the fence. When she found a section where the wire looked as if it had been cut at the bottom and bent outward to allow a small person admittance, she pulled back on it and made enough room for her to crawl past. Being the smallest Weasley certainly had its advantages!

The sounds of the city immediately dropped away as she stood up and looked around. Everything seemed muted in the playground, much… browner. Like the colour had been leeched away from everything living, and a thin layer of mud painted over the top of it. She wondered if it wasn't because to either side of the small space were tall high-rise buildings filled with offices, and that they somehow blocked the sun from reaching the playground during certain times of the day.

The squeak of the roundabout turning again was a shrill whine in the dull hush. Lily put her hands over her ears, finding the sound offensive.

"I knew you'd come."

The boy startled her, his appearance at her side taking her by complete surprise. She dropped her hands and stared at him.

The first up-close glimpse of him decided it: he was odd—as muted as the playground around them, but equally as compelling to her senses. He was dressed rather funny, in clothing that no one else she knew wore. His trouser shorts looked dated and were a bit ragged at the hems. His shoes were scuffed, and the grey, woolen coat he wore over his button-down had tattered stitching that needed mending. Despite those flaws, though, Lily had to admit that he was quite cute, with piercing blue eyes and lovely dark hair.

And then that enchanting, naughty smile appeared again, and she was hopelessly lost.

"What's your name?" he asked, taking her by the arm and leading her towards the swings.

"Lily."

He paused and looked at her, rubbing two fingers against the side of his temple, as if trying to recall something important. "Lily… I'm sure I knew a Lily once. She… I think she died, though." He dropped his hand, squinched up his eyes, and thrust his face towards her, looking her over. "What's your family name?"

"Potter," she told him, seeing no reason to lie. "Lily Luna Potter."

The boy's shock was palpable as he leaned away from her. "Potter?" His eyes glazed over as he turned his thoughts inward and a dark look of concentration passed over his features. He whispered the name a few times, seeming to roll it around his tongue as if sampling it, searching for some lost connection. "That sounds familiar, too. I almost… know it."

Lily shrugged. She was used to people reacting strangely anytime she told them her name. Sometimes they looked at her with awe, other times with fear. Honestly, it made her feel rather freakish, and that was one thing she didn't want this boy to think about her. "My father's kind of famous, but you won't hold it against me, will you?"

He blinked, turned his head, and for the second time in as many minutes, Lily was captivated by the blue of the boy's eyes. They were as bright as a crystal, spring sky shedding winter's icy hold.

"No, I won't… as long as you don't hold it against me that I'm an orphan."

That she could do. No one should be teased for the loss of their parents. She held her other hand out to shake. "Okay, deal."

The boy looked down at her hand, and a flittering smile returned to his face. Tentatively, he took her fingers in his, holding them as lightly as one might a butterfly, careful not to cause harm. His hand, she noted, was rather cold. "Deal," he agreed. When he let her go, it was with reluctance.

The rusty rasping of the swing brushed by a strong breeze captured his attention as thoroughly as the calling of one's name, and he turned his head and became fixated on it.

"Are you… okay?" Lily asked after several minutes standing in awkward silence. She reached up and tugged the elbow of his coat. "Hello?"

He glanced at her sideways and that sweet, little smile returned to his face. "Come on, you sit on the swing and I'll push." Reaching for her wrist, he tugged her forwards.

They ran to the swings together, and Lily took a seat on the grimy wooden bench. It creaked under her weight, and she held on to the rusty chains with a death grip, hoping her mum wouldn't yell at her later for getting dirty. "Ready," she announced, and the boy came up behind her and put his hands over hers. A shiver went through her at the contact. He really was quite icy! He definitely needed a pair of mittens.

"Don't swing too high," he warned, leaning his mouth to her ear. "It's old and might break."

"Okay."

With that, he pulled back on the chains a bit and then let go, setting Lily off. A gentle push on her back each time the swing returned to its starting position kept her in motion, and she used her small frog-like legs to maintain her momentum.

"I feel like I'm flying," she cried out in joy and laughed.

"You are," the boy reminded her. "You're off the ground, aren't you?"

"It's almost like being on a broom, chasing the wind!" Her Uncles frequently took her up on their brooms, sometimes even going above the tops of the apple trees in the orchard at the Burrow. She couldn't wait to own her own someday!

The pushing stopped. She glanced behind her, and the boy had moved off to the side to avoid her backwards motion. He was staring at the ground, frowning. Scuffing her shoes, she slowed to a full stop. "What's wrong?"

"Flying on a broom? Is that even… possible?" He seemed greatly disturbed by the notion.

She glanced at him askance. Was he, perhaps, not a wizard, but Muggle?

"What do you think?"

He glanced into the air and a fierce excitement overtook his features. "I think it would be brilliant to own the skies like that! Maybe someday even fly so high you touch the moon!" His arm extended towards the heavens, his fingers stretched wide, a longing so poignant on his face that Lily felt her chest hitch in pity for him.

"It wouldn't work like that," she told him. Oh, yes, she'd been told stories by her father of Muggles riding spaceships to the moon, but she thought them very fanciful tales. Surely, it wasn't true. Her mother had always said not to believe everything her father said, after all. "You wouldn't be able to fly that high without passing out and falling to your death. Like Icarus."

The boy dropped his arm to his side, but continued to look up, watching the lazy, grey-brown clouds overhead drift by. "Who?" he asked, frowning again.

"Icarus. You know, the Greek fellow who built some wings out of feathers and wax, but he flew too near the sun and the wax melted. He fell to his death. My cousin, Rose, says his story is her favourite of the Greek myths. She reads a lot."

"Why on earth would Icarus fly towards the sun?" The boy seemed quite curious as to why someone would do such a thing, knowing the sun burned up anything it touched. "Why not the moon?"

She shrugged. "Because he thought the sun was the biggest power in the universe and wanted to challenge it. Rose said it was because he thought he was invincible."

As her new friend's eyes widened at her use of such a big word, Lily felt proud that she'd been able to pronounce it without stumbling over the letters once, and that she also knew the word's meaning. Sometimes, it was a good thing being cousins with someone swotty, she decided.

The boy thought about what she'd said for a moment in silence.

"Sounds like he got what he deserved in the end, the arrogant git."

Lily stood up, staring towards the fence line. On the other side, she could see her mother had recovered and was now looking around for her, calling out her name around a cupped hand, although Lily could not hear her voice.

"I have to go," she told him. "My mum's calling."

The boy's shoulders slumped. "You're the only person who's ever come to play with me. Can't you stay a little longer?"

She glanced at him, and boldly reached out to take his hand in hers again, noting again how very chilly his fingers were. Her smart cousin, Rose, would say his circulation must not be very good, like Grandmum Weasley's. She made a mental note to remember to bring him a pair of her hand-knit gloves next time she came to see him. She had several pair, and could spare one for him.

"I'll be back. We can play and talk some more, then."

"Promise?"

Acting on impulse, she stretched up on tiptoe, for the boy was inches taller than she was, and she pressed a quick peck to his cheek. "Yes, kissy swear," she vowed in the same way she, Albus, and James always sealed their promises to each other. Then, feeling flushed and giddy at being so bold, she turned for the opening in the fence, running fast so she could minimize her mother's anger.

At the exit to the playground, she turned back to look, unable to leave without one final question. "Hey, um, what's your name?"

The boy shoved his hands in his shorts-trouser pockets and gave her a lopsided grin. "Just realised you hadn't asked?"

"Tell me!" she demanded, shaking her head and giggling. She had been terribly rude today, not even asking for a proper introduction before running off to play. Grandmum Weasley would smack the back of her hands with a spoon if she knew!

He waved in good-bye, and shouted back, "It's Tom."

For some strange reason, knowing his name made Lily's heart glow. "Nice to meet you, Tom!" she said with a wave. "See you again soon!"

"See you, Lily!"

Crawling through the fence line deposited her back on the Muggle street. The noise of the traffic returned, assailing her ears with its familiar heavy, confusing hum. Getting to her feet, she hurried back towards the bench and her mother's side.

One last look through the chain link showed her Tom was gone. Only an empty, dying playground remained, choked with tired grass pushed around by an eerie wind that seemed to sing.

'Blood and memory… something living, something dead… and a soul in trade.'

TO BE CONTINUED...

Author's Notes:

What do you think so far? Sufficiently creepy? Please review and let me know!

P.S. This is my first Tom Riddle as the main character story! I'm excited to try him out. :)