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Written for;

The Hogwarts Writing Club, Week 5. Prompt - Hatred.

Fanfiction Marathon - MyrtleTom

Prompt Relay - Riddle Era

Hangman - A

Unusual Pairing - TomMyrtle

Word Count Without AN - 494

A Weakness He Couldn't Afford

He didn't feel remorse. He was proud of his actions, proud of his abilities, proud of himself. He didn't feel regret. Action and consequence were words he'd grown up knowing and understanding, and if the punishments at the orphanage hadn't repressed his urges to do things others might not agree with, then nothing would.

He did what he felt he needed to do. He did what he wanted to do. He did what he thought would be best foremost for him, and for his cause. He had followers, he had a mission, he had a reason.

He didn't need love. Love was for the weak. Love was for those with no ambition, no self worth, no control. Love was for those who would never know the wonderful feeling of power that flowed through his veins.

Those who opposed him believed he'd never known love. They believed he'd never been loved, had never loved another, but they were wrong because he had, and it had almost been his destruction. It had almost been the end of him before he could even really begin.

Love was a weakness that he couldn't afford. She'd taught him that.

Myrtle had been just like him in a way. She'd been the odd one out. She'd been a loner. She'd been bullied. Tom felt a pull to her, and he didn't deny himself. He allowed her to worm her way into his mind, into his heart. Why she'd been in that bathroom he had no idea. If he'd known she was there, he would have made her leave, of course. She'd been silent. So silent and still, and he hadn't thought to check the stalls. Why would anyone be in there anyway?

He'd heard a gasp, and he'd heard a fall, even as the Basilisk slid back into it's tunnel. He was done for. Someone had died, and if he was found at the scene he would be expelled. He couldn't allow that to happen. He almost didn't check who it was in that stall, and he wished when he saw her that he hadn't. Wished that he'd just left without satisfying his curiosity.

It was Myrtle, and she was dead, and it broke his already fractured heart. She was his and she was dead and his heart turned to stone in an instant. As a single tear dropped from his eye onto her already cooling hand, he swore than nobody else would ever make him feel such pain. He swore that nobody would ever get close enough to hurt him.

As pain and regret and self hatred filled him from the inside, he closed himself off. With one last look, he swept from the bathroom, and never returned. He never looked back. He never allowed himself another tear.

He never allowed himself to love again.