Disclaimer: Not mine.

Dear Minerva,

I'm frightened, oh so very frightened.

Tom is changing before my very eyes. He's started to look sickly and pale and

Minerva, he's not the same Tom that I fell in love with, not someone I know. He looks at me as if I'm nothing more than a prize and it makes me scared to even have him touch me.

I can't tell him. I'm afraid what he'll do if he finds out. I'm afraid what he might now be involved in but whatever it is, it's changing him. His eyes are different, almost empty as if he's not there anymore.

I was hoping my dear friend, if I could help me get away. I'm glad we never got married because I don't know what I would have done. The secret I carry inside makes me sick every time I look at him. Please, write back soon.

Thank you,

Marguerite.

Marguerite wrote that letter three months after she first noticed that Tom was changing, when she saw his eyes. It had been a week now and still no reply from Minerva. Hopefully she'd get something soon.

Tom was at work, probably chatting up that Mrs. Smith again for her valuables. Marguerite hadn't been feeling well so she had come home early.

Now, she stared at the door that led to the second bedroom in their apartment. Tom had turned it into his personal den but she hadn't ever gone in, afraid of what she might find. She was ready though. If she was going to leave, she needed to know what was going on.

She placed her hand on the doorknob, holding up her wand. "Alohomora."

Nothing. Of course Tom wouldn't make it easy. Leaning closer she examined the knob. What looked like a snake was etched into the metal. She always thought it was just Tom's idea of a decoration, but she never truly understood his obsession with snakes. Holding up her wand again, Marguerite aimed at the catch. "Bombarda."

The door was struck with the spell, blasting the catch from the door. She'd have to repair that quickly before Tom got home but now the door swung open. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she pushed the door open fully, stepping inside.

A bookshelf lined the nearest wall. She rushed to it, running her hand over the spine. "Lumos."

She stared at the spines, shocked. All of them. All of the books were books on the Dark Arts, Dangerous Potions, Spells, and Poisons. She lifted her hand to her mouth, turning to a table that lay to her left. Sitting on the table was an old black diary, something she had seen in Tom's possession before. Leaning forward, she picked up the diary.

Marguerite gasped as her head felt like it might split open. Visions she didn't truly understand flashed before her eyes. Quickly, she dropped the diary back on the table, stepping back. As she did so, her wand raised to the wall. Scratched into the paint were words . . . no, names.

Tom Marvolo Riddle.

But that name had been scratched off, almost blasted from the wall. Underneath it was another name, though it was more like a phrase.

I am Lord Voldemort.

Pieces of parchment littered the floor. Marguerite bent down to pick one up, unfolding it.

Tom,

Your plans are inspiring at best and they make so much sense.

Ridding the world of Mudbloods and the likes! It's perfect!

I've already talked to the others and they agree. You should be getting letters from them very soon. Keep me posted.

Lestrange

A tapping startled her out of her thinking. She ran out the room, pointing her wand at the door. "Reparo."

The door fixed itself, slamming closed. Marguerite rushed back into the living room, expecting to see Tom walk through the front door . . . but instead, she saw a tawny owl at the window. Her owl, Spalin. Minerva's letter had finally arrived.

Quickly she opened the window, the owl flying in. She took the letter from the owl's leg, unrolling it.

Dear Marguerite,

Are you alright? Your letter couldn't have sounded more frantic! I'm worried about you, Margie and your letters are too few and far between.

What do you mean he's changed? He hasn't hurt you has he? And I'm surprised you haven't told him yet but if he's as frightening as you claim him now to be, then it might be for the best.

If you need a place to stay, my dear friend, then my home is always open or, if you're not comfortable with that, we'll figure someplace else out but I would rather you be safe than frightened.

Come when you need to, dear. Just Apparate to McGonagall Place.

Love,

Minerva.

"Oh thank Merlin," Marguerite gasped, clutching the letter to her chest. Running to the room she shared with Tom, she waved her wand, her trunk coming out of the closet and clothes flying from the drawers into her trunk, sloppy and unorganized but right then she didn't care. She had to get out of here.

The door to their home opened and closed. "Marguerite!"

Marguerite looked over her shoulder. "Finite!" she muttered frantically.

Thankfully, most of her things were packed. She waved her wand, the trunk moving back into the closet and the closet door slamming. She rushed out the door, just as Tom appeared in the hallway. "Hi!" she said breathlessly.

"Hello," he responded, warily. "Are you alright?"

"Yes. Just woke up from a nap. I was about to get dinner started."

"Alright." He leaned forward, pressing a kiss against her lips. She shivered but he didn't say anything, moving past her to the closet to hang up his jacket. "I see Spalin has returned."

"Oh yes." While his back was turned, she stuffed Minerva's letter into her pocket. "I sent him out with zee Daily Prophet subscription. I suppose he was attacked by another bird because zey kept him zere, letting his wing heal and such. Zey apologized for any problems."

"Hmm," was all Tom said. Marguerite nodded, hand over her stomach as she went into the kitchen. She heard him move into his room, the soft whisper he gave before entering into his private den. She hoped that he didn't notice anything.

He came into the living room a moment later as she moved around, getting out ingredients. The whole time she worked, she could feel his soulless eyes on her back. "We're leaving tomorrow," he said suddenly.

"Leaving?" Marguerite asked spinning. "Whatever for?"

"London holds nothing for us anymore," was his reply. "I've gotten all that I've needed. It's time to go."

That night, Marguerite lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. It was time to go. She needed to get away from him. Tom was sleeping; his snores echoed lightly through the room.

Marguerite took a deep breath. Gently, she went to move.

Tom's hand landed against her throat. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He was still sleep. That hand moved then, resting on her stomach. That sick feeling ran through her again and she fought the urge not to throw up right then and there.

Carefully, she slid out from under his arm, sliding her feet into the sandals she had left by the bed. She wouldn't be changing clothes. Instead she grabbed her sweater from the closet, throwing into over her nightgown and grabbing her wand. Waving it she levitated her trunk, moving it in front of her. On the bed, Tom still slept.

Marguerite carefully moved into the living room, trying not to bump her trunk into the walls. "Spalin," she whispered. The bird twittered from the window.

She opened the door to his cage. "Come on, sweetie, get in your cage."

Spalin flew over, landing on her arm. She gently led him to his cage, happy when he finally hopped in.

"Where are you going?"

Marguerite's heart stopped. She grabbed Spalin's cage, setting it on top of her trunk before she turned to Tom, who was glaring at her. "I'm leaving."

"I can see that," Tom growled. His hand twitched and she looked down to see that his wand was there. "Why?"

"Tom," Marguerite started. "Tom I can't do zis anymore."

"Do what? Be with me anymore?"

"Yes. No." Marguerite sighed. "You're not zee same."

"Of course I am! I'm the same boy from school!"

"No you're not! Tom you've changed into someone or something I don't know! It's clear on your face, in your eyes, in your actions! You've been writing letters to your friends, talking about murdering Muggleborns! This is someone different! This – This Lord Voldemort as you so eloquently scrawled into zee wall. Zee Tom I knew wouldn't do that!"

"Don't you see!" Tom stepped forward, eyes wide and excited. "I am the same Tom you knew! This was me, all throughout school, this was what I wanted. I set the Basilisk free. I tortured those foul Mudbloods. I killed Myrtle."

Marguerite covered her ears. "No!"

"Yes! And you loved me anyway! You wanted to be with me! You supported me!"

"I didn't know!" Tears burned Marguerite's eyes. "If I had known –"

"We'll be fabulous together Marguerite! The world isn't perfect, but we can make it that way. With you by my side, we'll rule the world! We'll rid the world of Mudbloods and Half-breeds together! Can't you see the brilliance of it?"

"No! No I won't do any of zat! I won't have any part of it! You – You're a monster, Tom!"

"I won you fair and square! You are mine to do what I will and you will stay here with me!"

Marguerite glared at him. "I am not a prize and I won't stay!"

"You'll stay even if I have to make you!" Tom pointed his wand. A jet of red headed for her.

"Protego!" Marguerite yelled. The spell bounced off, bursting Tom's chair. "Bombarda!"

The spell shot at Tom, who tried to dodge was hit in the arm, knocking his wand from his hand and him to the ground. Marguerite approached him stared down at him where he clutched his bleeding limb, groaning. "I'm sorry Tom. I had so many dreams for us but – but zis was not it. You've lost your mind and Merlin knows what you're capable of doing or what you've already done. I've got to go."

Marguerite quickly hurried back to her things. "Goodbye."

"No." Tom got to his knees. "Marguerite, don't go! You are mine!

Marguerite stared at him for a moment. He was so pathetic. All she could do was pity him, really. "I'm sorry. I'm leaving and I'm taking my baby with me."

"Baby?" Tom asked. His face contorted in anger. "You're pregnant! Then you can't leave! That baby is as much mine as you are!"

"No." Marguerite glared at him. "This baby belonged to Tom Riddle. Not Lord Voldemort."

Tom cried out as she Apparated, though it sounded more like an animalistic roar.

Marguerite cried into Minerva's arms that night. She cried for herself and her broken heart. She cried for her child who would grow up fatherless and cried that she was pregnant so soon.

But mostly, she cried for the death of a man she loved and a man she never really truly knew.

A secret she would try to take to her grave.

A/N: Oh wow! Well that's the end of that. Do not worry, all, there will be a sequel. I hope you guys liked this! Thanks for reading.