This story was inspired by Departure from the Diary written by TendraelUmbra. It's an excellent fic and you should definitely go check it out.

I've always loved the idea of a fem Voldemort/Tom Riddle, and when I came across the story mentioned above, I just knew I wanted to write a oneshot.

Warnings: Strong Language, Violence, (Graphic/ &non) Sexual Situations, Dubious Consent, rape and child abuse.

This story is character exercise for me, I wanted to write a psychopathic villain capable of (some) emotion but in a realistic way. So please feel free to whip me a new one if I've failed.

Also, this will be a three shot. I've already written out all the 3 chapters, so I'll be releasing Chapter Two on Monday, and the final chapter on Wednesday. Consider this my apology for putting Obscurial on Hiatus.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

Ginny Weasley's body lie tumbled over on the cold, wet stone floor. Her red hair splayed out, the strands damp and limp against her pale skin.

You promised me fresh meat Master,$ the Basilisk slithers out of her resting place, eyelids covered, and noses the girl at my feet.

$Patience,$ I snap.

The Basilisk nudges my hand, purring as I stroke her head. Something crashes, voices echo through the chamber. Harry Potter. There's no way he wouldn't come try to save the silly little girl. He so brave! And loyal too! Weasley's dreamy writing of her ridiculous crush littered the pages of my book. Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived. My lip curls.

Ridiculous.

The door to the inner chamber opens, a handsome boy, around fifteen comes running in. His eyes widen at the sight of Weasley splayed out on the floor. He falls to his knees and turns her over. His green eyes widen even more. He leans over the girl, his hands cupping her face.

"Please wake up, Ginny please," his voice jumbled as he shakes her body.

He's even more handsome begging. Such a pretty boy. Shame he'll soon be a pretty, dead boy.

"She won't wake." My voice is soft, and he immediately tenses.

His head turns and I step out of the shadows. His eyes look me up and down. It doesn't seem like he's leering at me, just trying to figure me out.

"Who are you," he barks.

My lips widen in a feral manner, he grabs for his wand. Except he won't find it. Idiot dropped it in a frenzied state when he ran to Weasley.

"You really shouldn't leave this lying about Harry," I say twirling the wood in my hands.

He jumps up, his eyes narrow as he watches his wand in my hand. His eyes roam over my body again, like he's taking every detail in. It's somewhat disconcerting.

"You're not a student here," he says frowning. "At least not from this time period, you're uniform looks outdated."

Prick.

I laugh. "Well, give the good boy a cookie." Walking to him, my steps slow and deliberate, he backs up some. "Very good Harry," I whisper as I get closer.

His chest heaves some. He's seems thrown off by my close proximity. His hand clenches at his side, his body is bowed up, as if ready to fight.

Cute, considering the slight shake in you hand Love. His fear is intoxicating.

"So who are you then," his voice is tense, though the slight waver gives away his discomfort.

I nod to the diary on the ground. Never taking his eyes off me, he bends down and picks it up. He eyes quickly scan the leather backing.

"Thomasine Riddle," he whispers. His eyes narrow as he regards me. "I guess the question isn't so much as who as rather what you are."

I throw my head back and laugh. What am I? Now that's the right question. He's far from stupid.

"Quite right you are," I say stepping forward pointing his wand to his chest. "You see, ever since that stupid, silly girl poured her silly little dreams and hopes into me, I just knew I had to meet you. Harry Potter, the vanquisher of The Dark Lord, The Boy Who Lived."

He steps back, tripping over Weasley's arm.

"I wonder, dear Harry, how is it that the most powerful Dark Lord of all time was simply overcome by a mere baby," I continue as my wand backs him into the wall.

"And what do you care," he spits at me.

I chuckle.

"I find I care quite a lot Harry," I say digging his wand into his chest.

His eyes flash to mine, all fury and loathing. It's beautiful.

"Perhaps he wasn't the most powerful Dark Wizard to have ever lived," he says with his lip curled.

Pure hatred, fury and rage explode in me. How fucking dare he! How fucking dare he soil my name!

"That tongue of yours, it's going to get you in trouble. I have half a mind to cut it out," I say.

He sneers at me.

"No matter, soon Ginny Weasley will be dead, and I will cease to be a memory," I say.

His lip curls, his eyes flashing in his fury.

"What, are you like Lord Voldemort's pathetic lackey? Maybe you fancy to have been his lover," he spits at me.

Silence.

Suddenly I'm laughing. My voice echoes throughout the chamber and he regards me coolly.

My hand shoots out and wraps around his neck, he sputters as I close the gap between us, his body thrashing to push me off him. I lean in, my lips lightly grazing his ear.

"She was in love with you, you know," I whisper pushing my body into him. "It was quite annoying, all her pathetic ramblings regarding you. Love," I scoff. "What a useless emotion, finicky and troublesome. By the time poor Ginny figured out that I was draining the fucking life from her, it was too late. And why? Because she was so heartbroken that you wouldn't give her so much of a sideways glance." I whisper, my lips smiling, grazing his ear.

His breaths are labored as his hands fists into my jumper.

"You're sick," he snarls.

I laugh again.

"Perhaps," I say, then pause. His breaths come out in little pants, his fist twists against my jumper, his knuckles digging into my abdomen. "But then again, what does one expect from the great Lord Voldemort," I hiss into his ear.

He goes rigid. His hands still against my body.

"You're lying, I've met him, fought him," he says.

Interesting. And he's lived to tell the tale? I can't help but be impressed. I drag the tip of my wand up, his breathing hitches as I force him to look up. My eyes catch his. Legilimens. Images assault me, Harry immediately starts thrashing. I just push past his memories until I reach the one I'm looking for. Cloaked, slits for a nose, red eyes, skeleton like hands. Nothing about my counterpart looks human. Fuck. My other self looks downright ghastly. Something else catches my attention, a hum, a calling of sorts. It's familiar and strange. It's me and yet not me.

Holy fucking shit. My lips slowly curl into a wide smile. I exit his mind.

"Thank you for showing me that Harry," I say grinning at him.

"Are you mad!" He sputters back.

I press the tip of his wand hard to his neck.

"Clearly a little," I breathe before pausing. "People always did have the unfortunate habit of underestimating me, being a woman and all. You wouldn't understand how frustrating that is, though I imagine your dear, mudblood friend would. Granger is it?" I ask.

His eyes narrow.

"I swear, if you you touch-

"Oh shut up, how cliché could you possibly be Harry," I say.

He huffs. Like a spoiled brat.

Ginny Weasley is fading fast. My counterpart is at large, and me returning right now would only put myself at risk. She would never allow me to live. I don't know enough of what I'm dealing with here. And besides, hitching a ride in Potter's head could prove to be quite useful for me, not to mention entertaining.

It's settled then.

"As much as I'm enjoying this little chat, I'm afraid it must come to an end," I say.

He goes rigid again. His body is going into fight mode.

"Relax, no one's dying today Harry," I say. "But I'm afraid I can't just let you go." He looks at me, perplexed. "Ennervate," I say, pointing the wand to Ginny and whipping it back to Harry. I have to be quick or my soul will be stuck wandering on this plane with no way to gain a host.

Harry sputters. "What-

$Imbosalithanian,$ I hiss.

Potter screams.

Blinding white hot searing pain floods through me. Potter falls to the ground, hands pressing against his scar, thrashing on the floor.

Blackness.

/XXX/

Potter's head is a jumbled mess. His memories are all over place, disorganized, messy and completely open to me.

Stupid. You'd think he'd learn Occlumency by now. Or at least some sort of memory catalogue system. Instead everything is exposed, spilling out. I casually sit down and and summon a random book. It flies to my hands. I open the book, my finger sliding down the page.

A fat boy is leering at me, his chubby hands reach out. 'Harry Hunting' he says.

"Stop it," Potter hisses. The book begins to go blank.

My eyes roll. I push my magic further into him.

"Make me," I snap.

I'm so fucking bored. Why did I ever think this would be entertaining? He's nothing but a hormonal, stupid teenage boy.

The walls start to shake, plaster falling down on me.

"Real mature Potter, what, you think having the room collapse on me is going to kill me?" I snort.

The walls crack up the side to the ceiling.

"No, but maybe it'll shut you the fuck up," he snaps back.

The room shakes, objects falling over. So bloody dramatic.

I snap the book shut. "Fine, happy now?"

The room stops shaking.

"Stay out of my memories Riddle," he hisses at me.

"Well entertain me then," I say.

A light bulb explodes.

"I swear to fucking god Riddle, I'm going to find a way around this silence curse you put on me and I'll personally tear you out of me," he snarls.

His words, cruel and hateful wash over me. One thing I've realized since hitching a ride here, is Potter has a malicious streak in him, not that he'd ever admit it. But it's here, and it's tangible. I find it attractive and amusing.

"I'm hurt," I pout. "And here I was thinking that we were beginning to be friends."

"As if I'd ever be friends with a murdering psychopath," he sneers.

I chuckle. "But you are a murderer Harry," I purr. "Quirrell certainly didn't burn his own face off by himself."

The walls start shaking again.

"That's not the same thing," he hisses. "Quirrell was trying to kill me, I was just defending myself."

"Oh and what do you think I was doing? You would've killed me in a heartbeat if you had your wand in the chamber," I say.

He bristles. "You were killing Ginny, you were going to kill me!"

"I never said I was going to kill you Harry, but you would have killed me just the same," I whisper smiling.

"No, but-

"You judged me by the actions of another. I personally hadn't grievanced you in any way," I continue.

"You put yourself in my bloody head! I'd say that's a pretty fucking personal grievance!" He yells.

The ceiling cracks. He's so easily wound up.

"I was just acting in self defense," I say with a shrug. "It's not as if you gave me much choice."

He splutters. "No choice? Are you fucking kidding me!"

I feel myself starting to laugh. He's so adorable all riled up. I feel his hands clench around the desk. He's about to jump out of skin.

"God just shut the fuck up and leave me alone," he hisses.

"No, don't think I will," I say as I open another book. "Oh and Harry, it's twelve."

His body goes rigid.

"Twelve, what are you going on about now?" he says.

I roll my eyes.

"The answer to Snape's question, there's twelve uses of dragon blood," I say casually flipping through the pages.

"Shit," he mutters.

"Honestly Harry, haven't you heard of multitasking," I say.

He growls under his breath. I can't help but laugh.

/XXX/

Adrenaline surges through me, a feeling of complete ecstasy. My heart beats wildly in my chest.

"Are you completely mad!" I shriek as we plummet to the ground.

Potter laughs, and it's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. In this moment, this fleeting moment, he's free. Free from responsibility, from the stress, from everything of being the Chosen One. He's just Harry.

I, on the other hand, am freaking the fuck out. Potter's lost his mind. I don't care how beautiful he sounds, he's going to sound beautiful all the way to our impending death.

"Would you calm down Riddle," he says with a chuckle. "It's not as if I'm a novice or anything."

His hand stretches out, as he balances on his broom. The golden snitch flits ahead, teasing us, or rather him.

"For fucks sake Potter, just grab the snitch so I can breathe again," I snarl.

The ground zeros in. He's going to kill us. The motherfucker is going to kill us!

Suddenly pulls the broom up, his hand grazing the grass. He laughs as he grips the snitch in his hand. Elation floods through me. He's happy. Gryffindor won.

Of bloody course they won. Damn Potter.

"Aren't you going to congratulate me," he says.

I snicker. "Right, thanks for nearly getting us killed. But hey, you caught the bloody snitch, so completely worth you potentially smashing us into complete oblivion."

He chuckles. "And you call me the dramatic one."

I cross my arms. "Well excuse me for not having a fucking death wish."

A new feeling floods in. I don't like it. It makes me uncomfortable.

Potter's silent. I see people swarming him, congratulating him.

"Everyone dies Thomasine," he whispers.

His words sink in. My lip curls. I don't need or want his fucking pity.

/XXX/

A wave of lust slams into me so hard it nearly knocks me over. It's not coming from me.

"Potter," I growl.

Silence.

The fucking prick is too immersed in whatever fantasy or scene he's indulging himself in to notice me.

A girl appears on the wall. A pretty Asian. Cho Chang. Not this again. I groan. Cho is sitting in the library, her quill between her teeth. Another wave of lust.

Potter's attention on the Asian girl is making my head dizzy. I feel his body tightly coiled, and my own now is equally tight.

Fucking Potter and his fucking hormonal body.

It's not as if I've never had sex before, but damnit, I had shit to do today, and he's interfering by not controlling himself.

"Potter," I hiss again.

Silence.

He's either not listening, doesn't care, or can't hear me.

My toes curl and heat floods me. Gasping I stand up, but I'm buckling under the weight. Cho's chest comes closer into view. What a fucking surprise. I want to crucio the living shit out of him.

The lust is not fading, it's only getting worse. I feel Potter squirm in his seat. Then it hits me, and suddenly I'm no longer irritated. A wide, feral smile slowly unfolds across my face. Two can play at this game Potter.

Falling back down on the chaise, my fingers run slowly down my stomach. He's not paying attention. His eyes are locked on Cho's breast, but soon he will.

Palming my breast and squeezing slightly, I drag my other hand up my thigh, bunching my skirt up as I go. My fingers caress my knickers before slipping inside. I'm so fucking wet, dripping actually. I coat my fingers with my wetness and carefully start rubbing my sensitive nub.

He goes rigid. There he is.

"What the fuck are you doing," his voice is all gravel.

Gasping a little as I continue to knead my breast and rub circles on my nub. "Self love," I hiss.

His hands clench his thigh painfully. "Well stop it."

I chuckle before moving my hand under my brassiere, my fingers pinching the nipple and twisting. Wetness floods my fingers down there and I groan.

"Jesus Fuck Riddle," he groans. "Stop, just stop," he pants.

I run my fingers down my slit. He snarls something about leaving. And I feel him moving, walking quickly with determined steps.

"I said stop Riddle," he hisses.

But I don't stop. I just run my fingers down my slit, wetness coating and sticky between my digits.

"You started it," I pant before bringing my coated digit to my lips. "So now I'm finishing it," I say before slipping my finger in mouth, moaning, my tongue lapping at my juices.

A tidal wave of lust slams back into me. I'm turning him on. I smile.

"Stop, please, just please stop," he pants begging. He's on his knees, I can feel it.

Wetness floods my folds at his words.

"That's right beg Potter," I hiss as I drag my finger back there, rubbing my clit. He groans. He's hard. Painfully hard. I feel his hand palm his erection. "Poor Harry, begging on his knees," I pant and he growls.

My fingers dip inside, filling me.

"Holy shit," he yells before he makes quick work of trousers. "I fucking hate you Riddle," he spits.

I chuckle. "That tongue of yours, it should be where my fingers are currently fucking me," I say.

He hisses as he squeezes the base of his length.

"As if I'd ever fucking touch you, you sick fuck," he says.

I curl my fingers, hitting that sweet spot.

"Fuck!" He yells pumping his length.

This is too fucking surreal. Potter's lust, my lust, it's all bleeding into each other and I can't separate anything anymore.

"I should crucio you until you tear your skin off," I pant.

He pumps his length with enthusiasm. "Maybe I'll crucio you first," he says, groaning.

Shit. Potter's a masochist and a sadist? Who knew.

"Yeah," I pant fucking myself with my finger. I'm so fucking close. "Tell me," I hiss.

His hand pumps faster. He's close too, I can feel it.

"I'd crucio you first, till you were nothing but sobbing, wrecked mess on the floor, begging to die," he pants, his length swells even more.

My fingers pinch and twist my nipple as my other fingers, curled slam inside me hard.

"Go on," I say. God I'm just on the edge. "What else."

He hisses as he continues to pump his length.

"I drag you up to your knees, by your hair," he says he's nearly there. "Then I fuck that pretty little mouth of yours, you'd be choking on my cock."

My mouth snarls. But wetness floods my hand. I fucking hate him.

"You want me crying Potter?" My fingers fuck harder.

"Fuck yes!" His hand pumps faster.

You want me begging? My fingers flex.

$Yes! Fuck!$

I'm there, I'm right fucking there, but I'm not falling over the edge in my shame alone. No. Fucking Potter started this goddamn fiasco, he's going to fall in shame with me.

Then come!" I demand and I'm falling.

Wave and after wave of pleasure vibrates through me, my legs are shaking, I'm clenching and squeezing my legs together.

White, hot searing pleasure, and wetness flood my hands and I'm still coming.

Potter's back bows, "Fuck. Fuck. I'm coming! Fuck. Fuck!"

I fuck myself until my orgasms slows. My chest heaves.

"Shit Riddle," he pants as his come coats his hands, his length twitching.

Images of flaying his skin off, like butter, slam into me. I hate him.

And for the first time, I think I might hate myself too.

/XXX/

The Weasley's cheer, bringing in the new year. Molly puts a hand on his shoulder, her eyes filled with maternal love. They're welcoming him to the family.

"Well, isn't this just cute," I sneer.

Embarrassment comes in.

"Get out of my dream Riddle," he snarls.

Molly goes on talking about how the adoption finally went through.

The whole dream is nauseating.

"Honestly Potter, who knew despite all the fame, wealth, and power all you ever truly wanted was just to be loved," I mock. "It's so pathetic it's sickening." I spit.

"Don't act as if you never wanted to be loved," he snarls back.

I scoff. "Love," I laugh. "Do you have any idea how pathetic you sound. And do you really think these people could actually love you?" I taunt.

The room turns cold.

"I've seen your true face, Potter, admit it, you liked the feeling of Quirrell's face sinking in beneath your fingertips. It keeps you up at night," I say with a smirk. "These people could never truly love you."

He stays silent. I'm growing annoyed.

"I always knew you were cruel, intelligent and powerful," he whispers and I smirk. "I just never took you for a coward."

He speaks the words soft, without malice. It enrages me. My fingers curl, my fists shake. Coward. He dares to call me a coward!

"As if you're any better, you would prance to your death as if your life means nothing to save a bunch of imbeciles," I snarl.

His anger slowly spreads to me.

"Hit a nerve Potter?" I mock.

Silence. And it drags on and on. People patting him on the back. I want to scream.

His words hit this spot, this place where I do not want to linger. I hate him for it. This overwhelming emotion bites at me and licks my skin, spreading, like a fucking poison. I push it back.

"Don't," he demands. "Don't run from this." He continues his voice has a hard edge.

I don't listen. Breathe. And push and push, until it's more of an uncomfortable pressure.

"You've been running from this your whole life Thomasine," he whispers.

I push.

"Death is inevitable, you can only stall it," he continues.

"Shut up Potter," I spit out.

Shut it away. I can almost breathe again.

"It will catch up to you, it always does," he whispers.

There's this feeling, this intense sadness. It nearly knocks me over. I pull my hair. I scream.

"Let me help you," he says.

I gasp. I hate him. I hate him.

"I don't need your pity or your help," I snarl ripping strands from my head. "You're so fucking pathetic, it makes my skin crawl. We are not friends Potter, we are nothing." I hiss.

Hurt floods in, along with bitterness. And then it's gone.

"You're right," he snarls. "It was stupid of me to forget, believe me, it won't happen again."

Fury shakes me. This fucking overwhelming feeling won't go the fuck away. Potter's hurt voice, his emotions slamming into me, it's too much, all just too fucking much. I drop on my knees screaming.

Well, that was intense! How are you liking Thomasine so far? I hope I did her justice. I always feel a little weird writing smut, I hope it's not ridiculous. Anyways, poor Harry. I feel bad for him. Part two will be uploaded on Monday! Feel free to give your honest opinion, I always value what you think and say!