AN - December 11th, 2005: HI. ( waves at you wildly from other side of the room since ya know I'm over here and not over there ; it's only common sense, after all! ) I have an important thing to shout meaninglessly at you, so listen up. Okay. Here it is. I LOVE VAL AND BAKA-CHAN AND REALITY-SAN AND 404-SAN AND LIGHT-CHAN AND NEW FRIEND FOREVER-SAN AND BADGER QUEEN WHO IS FROM ENGLAND AND RABID AND REIVEN AND AREAES AND YURI AND KAYLA AND MY MOM AND...AND CHRISTMAS SHOPPING AND PRESENTS AND TINFOIL AND SHINY THINGS THAT HAVE ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO DO WITH THE REST OF THIS CONVERSATION AND CAPITAL LETTERS BECAUSE J.K. ROWLING FINDS IT NECESSARY TO USE THEM. ; There we go. Now on to the story!
Queen of the Badgers: One of the first reviews I got...And WOW, you must have been really hyper. ( makes a mental note never to give you a latte again ) Thank you again. You are like, one of my loyal followers. ( grin ) Maybe I should take over the world... And oh, oh, you liked that 'vending machine' thingy? I was thinking about Pepsi...
The Third Dragon Rider: Correctomundo, precious. Tom is learning to love. Whoo hoo, another follower.
404: ( all happy )
Poisonous Reality: You did forget to comment. T.T I was so sad. Like, 'she doesn't love me anymore! Uwaaaahhhhh!'. OMFG I'LL EMAIL YOU RIGHT AWAY! ( goes to do it ) DON'T TAKE AWAY TOM! HIS TENDER PRETTY FLESH DOESN'T DESERVE TO BE FONDLED! Well. Maybe it does. . Er. Whateverrrrr.
foreverjinxed: ANOTHER FOLLOWER! I AM GAINING CONTROL OF YOUR MINDS, BIT BY BIT! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHH!111! I love you too.
Only For You
By: Kifujin no STRAWBERRY
Chapter Five
Two of a Kind
"I suppose I should start...back, before the beginning of my years here."
This was how the conversation was to start between the ever eerie Tom Riddle and the dark-haired girl who sat across from him, eyes locked, her leaning forward to face him even more so. The fire flickered in his dark eyes and gave his ghostly face an almost unsightly look to it - a look that told of, even before she began to tell the story, complete mesmerization. His attention was completely locked onto her small figure, leaning forward, elbows touching her knees and pale countenance raised to look him fearlessly in the eyes.
"There is much of my past that is concerned with the...darker arts of magic...of betrayal, alliance...and a brilliant, great family that has died off, a heir unknown."
Tom's heart skipped a beat.
"My family had been and still is, a wealthy family, bred from the roots as purebloods until they came to me and my older brother." Christine closed her eyes. "The McCallion family ; the family of the dead, they say, for those who have often joined my family have always lived past the normal human lifespan and eluded the ever graspy fingers of age. This power was given to us...by a most noble friend."
His breath hitched a little in his throat, though she took no notice.
"My family, the McCallions, is and was known as the right hand of the greatest wizarding family in history - the family of Salazar Slytherin. The Gaunt Family - the last remaining ancestors of Salazar's line, were our closest allies. Unfortunately, as of now, the daughter of the family has gone missing and is deceased. None of the others can be reached at the moment."
Tom froze. Christine looked at him closely, and then stopped abruptly.
"Is there something wrong?"
"No, no," Tom quickly brushed it off, fascinated all ready. "Please, by all means, continue."
Christine hesitated for a moment, though at seeing the intense look in his eyes, continued. Tom leaned forward from his settled position and stared at her, waiting for her to once again start the story again.
"I was born the youngest into the family, the sister of the boy who lies in Gryffindor, Erik McCallion - a pureblood from my father's last marriage." The words were said simply, though she drew his attention back to her immediately. "She died, his mother, a long time ago, but they did say that she was one of the most...caring people in the world. I do not know my father's thoughts on this, but undoubtfully he wishes that she did not die, and that my mother had never come along. She is dead as well. She died when I was very little, and all of these years my father has been taking care of me, however tainted and spoiled I am. The mother I speak of, the one who works at the Ministry, is my step mother, and also a muggle. I cannot say I entirely like her."
"There have been many betrayals between the purebloods and that of my family. However, my brother's Sorting into Gryffindor has no doubt been one of the most surprising things that we have come across - his heart is pure, and he has left our domain to live within that of one of his supposed friends. My life has been otherwise uneventful, only filled with lessons that all pureblood children are supposed to take, even know I am not one of them."
Her voice was still emotionless, like she didn't care about it at all. Her eyes flickered again, though, and catching the movement, Tom sat up straighter in his chair and then looked at her. Elisabeth had said that this girl looked like 'the very muggle she was spawned from' - her mother must have been a very beautiful woman, for a pureblood man to take her as his wife, and have her know nothing of the magical world. Then again, he did not know the bounds of love, and refused to understand it. It was simply out of the question.
"What sort of things did you take up as home courses, Ms. McCallion?"
"Christine."
"Excuse me. Christine."
"Nnnn. I took swordplay, latin, and...unfortunately...dancing. Magic was out of the question at that time, since I did not have a wand, but as soon as I got it, my father began to teach me."
"I see. So you've been learning magic ever since you got your wand? Amazing. You have quite the extensive ancestry - it is fascinating."
Could this all be true? In all of the research he had done to find out more about his ancestor, he had never found the name McCallion. Perhaps, there was a reason it was not burned down in some foolish history volume? Tom attempted to hide his amazement and glee at this information, dark eyes lightening strangely under the green light given by the lamps, and by the slowly spreading smirk across his face.
"Your...speak of your history reminded me...of a name that I had heard a long time ago." Tom closed his eyes for a brief moment, then looked at Christine. "My mother's name - Merope Gaunt Riddle. She was that daughter who went missing. Her family probably disowned her after she consorted with a muggle, my father, Tom Riddle Senior."
He stood then, and she watched him pace to the other side of the room and turn to come back.
"I know very little about my family, Christine. All I have are names. I know her name, I know my grandfather's name...my uncle's name...and the name of my foolish muggle father. Names are all I have. When I'm of age I plan on finding out more, till then my hands are tied. I can't leave the orphanage, I have no where to go and if I did...I couldn't return to Hogwarts. I need my education...so for now...I must sit and be patient. I want to know so very much! But I know nothing. Can you imagine how it is to know nothing about who brought you into this world? It eats at me constantly." The words were so quiet.
"I will admit, Tom Riddle, that I do not know what it is like to grow up without parents, but I do know what it is like to grow up alone." Christine's tone was still soft and cold. "I remember being alone. I remember the feeling of not being able to recognize who your parents are, whether or not they are truly your parents, and I remember asking who they were and why they were in my house. When I was small, and up until now, I have not considered them as parental figures, or even people to look up to," She said. Her tone was so calm and reserved, though the fire burning in her eyes suggested her anger. "They were never there. Never. Always working, brushing me off...hiring nannies for me whereas they'd rather be out playing bridge with their friends..."
"Then wehave another thing in common, Christine."
Tom saw himself as an older man in his mind's eye. He was in his late twenties, features distorted, eyes no longer a darkened color but a blood red. He was laughing, insane, long black hair caught in his fingers, hands drawn to his head. Several of his followers lay in a mess around him, dead, silent, and somber. He was mad, and everyone knew it.
"Fools! You dared to turn against me? ME! I will crush your corpses and litter the ground with your bones! You will die there as you have died HERE! No oneturns against Lord Voldemort ; no one who wishes to live! All are bound to obey my orders, and should they refuse, then they shall die! YOU SHALL ALL DIE AND GROVEL IN FRONT OF ME, MINDLESS AND LIFELESS!"
The present Tom Riddle shuddered.
"It must have been hard for you. You could just kill them for it, couldn't you? In time you'll be free from the home which has brought you such disappointment. At that time, life will truly begin." His whisper, and she looked up at him. Strange. Was there a hissing to those words?
"Kill them?" She paused after a moment, then shook her head. "They're...really nothing to me but parental figures that attempt to care. I can't blame them for not being there for me if all they did was to raise and protect me. Once I come of age, I will leave that house and my parents...I...probably want to leave, just as much as you do."
Tom looked at her for a long moment. His penetrating eyes traced her features, the light cast on them ; the shift of the material of her robes as she herself shifted about to find a more comfortable position. Her own eyes were downcast, fingers locking onto the armchairs when she pushed herself up, such a calm look on that pretty, doll-like emotionless face that Tom found himself staring. Yes. Christine did resemble a doll of sorts, pale-skinned with large, gray eyes. Despite her puppet-esque appearance, if there was one thing he noticed, was the innocence she lacked in her eyes. A doll held all the qualities of an innocent little girl ; Christine's eyes held neither the blank lifelessness or the innocence of a doll.
So she was a dark doll. Maybe another to add to his growing collection ; he'd all ready wrapped his fingers around Bellatrix Black, Janise Parkinson, and had gotten into Narcissa Black's head. Three dolls in his collection and one the rarest of all...heh heh... He would like to have that doll, set her up in her castle of glass, and let her watch him, adore him, just like the rest of them did.
"Thank you for talking to me." Tom let out a smile. "If you want to go to bed...then please do. You don't have to stay here with me."
I want her to stay here with me.
She shook her head calmly. "No, I'll stay. I don't sleep very much, anyways. I'd rather have company than return to nightmares."
Stay with me...?
"You've been having nightmares?" He asked in a soft, concerned voice. His voice was so gentle and velvety. "It helps, sometimes, to discuss your nightmares. Speaking about such things that are feared, sometimes helps to decrease the fear of them. I'll understand if you'd rather keep silent about it. I must tell you I haven't been able to sleep as well. Perhaps, a nice walk around the grounds would help to ease your mind? I know it's breaking a rule and it could be dangerous, but I assure you...you'll besafe with me. I won't let us be seen."
"I'd like that walk very much," She said quietly. "And perhaps I may or may not tell you then."
"Follow me. I know this castle inside and out."
He slid back the door in the wall and left it open for her, gazing over his right shoulder with a ghostly smile. As soon as he joined her, he'd take her by the left hand and guided her back into a darkened corridor. The starstwinkled through the darkened windows, tiny little spectral lights that seemed...ghostly Through a few hidden doors the two travelled, along two more corridors, and finally they were on the west side of the grounds. The cool air rustled through Tom's long, black hair, a soothing touch that let the strands fall back into his eyes.
"When I was a boy, I used to enjoy escaping from my dormitory in the orphanage and climbing up to the roof. I'd sit and watch the night sky there; I'd pinpoint each star in my mind. It was soothing, just sitting there...in the dark...in the silence." Christine turned to look up at him at his words.
She only listened to that cool, soothing voice, her hand caught in his right hand as they stood together, looking up at the stars. Black hair, falling to her upper back, rustled slightly against her frame, and she closed her eyes with a smile, simply...enjoying the evening. It was breezy out, cool, perhaps, but that was fine with her. She didn't mind at all. Christine opened her eyes to look up at the sky once more, eyes focusing on the moon, which shone brilliantly above them like a giant pearl. She did enjoy the nights...and talking with someone just seemed to make them all the better. But, traveling back to those hot, sleepless nights, staring up at the ceiling and trying to will herself to sleep, it made her happy to be back, finally, to Hogwarts.
"I always used to climb out of the window and do that, before they locked the windows so I couldn't get out," She laughed slightly, gray eyes even more luminous than they were before. Her laugh was soft and strange and drew Tom's attention. "Either that or I'd be up causing trouble...sticking snakes under doors just to listen to the servants scream and clatter around in the morning."
" Really now? I thought you might have." Tom would pause in speech; there was a faint smile on his mouth. He was recalling those nights when he'd sit alone on top of the chilled roof and watch the hazy clouds drift over a luminous moon. He actually laughed at her comment, and it was a deep, honeyed laugh, amusement dancing in his voice. "You were a wicked girl, Christine. Your poor servants! I feel sorry for them already."
Of course, he was just joking about that - he didn't feel sorry for them at all. Let them rot there ; he hoped that the precious snakes he had come to know as friends had scared them half to death. The two of them continued walking quietly, Christine gazing down at the scenery, Tom at the dark sky in all it's brilliance. They were two of a kind, Ms. Christine McCallion and Tom Riddle ; so alike yet so different that it was eccentric to think about it in such away. Then again, a lot of the things in the wizarding world made little or no sense at all, so one wasn't to question the way the world worked, because it just was.
"Moon lilies." Tom's voice came from her side as he gently pressured her to stop. Christine looked at him, and then down to the item he was pointing at. "Moon-Lilies. They are very rare and difficult, seeing as how they bloom by a full moon and only a full moon. The moon sustains them and then, sadly enough, they slowly wither without it's light."
He plucked just one and held it up to eye-level. The silvery white petals seemed to be spun of silk and the green steam of the flower glittered like a emerald. He quickly conjured a rectangular glass box ( which was rather advanced magic, mind you ) around the flower he had plucked from the ground, and slowly he'd hand it to her. Why did the glass box glow with a faint golden light? Her pale fingers seemed to block out that light when she touched the box, and held it up so that she could look upon the pretty flower in fascination.
"Don't take it out of it's box. It'll die if you do. If you keep it inside, it'll live as long as you do. Call it a gift for walking with me." He placed his wand back into the inside-pocket of his robes and smiled. It was hard to believe he'd turn into such a monster. " Listen, Christine. It was wrong of me to bring up the idea of you discussing your dreams. Dreams can be very frightening, terrible to recount. If I told you half of the things I see in my dreams, you'd probably run from me screaming. I want to be accepted by you, that is all. I don't have many friends, not really; and to have you as one of those few would make me very happy. I've admired you for years," He lead her on down through the grounds, "I should be ashamed of myself; a Prefect out on the grounds after curfew. Strange, I don't feel any shame at all. Christine, tell me: What do you think of Hogwarts? Do you love this castle?"
Was it just him, or was there a dreamy look in those gray hues when she began to speak of the castle that looked down on them like a hawk from above, celestial turrets and towers, well, towering above them. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...she could still remember the first day she'd gotten her letter.
It had been dark, she recalled, and she'd been standing out on the roof and looking up at the full moon as a mere 10 year old girl, when suddenly a dark shape had appeared against the full moon. It had certainly been odd at first, but when she had squinted she had realized it to be an owl. Not just any owl, either - a handsome, tawny owl that landed on her shoulder and immediately stuck out his leg for her to remove the seemingly brand new parchment. When she'd opened that letter, she'd grinned and yelled for the whole neighborhood, despite it being 10:00 at night. Christine smiled just softly, staring off into the distance for a moment before looking up to reach Tom Riddle's eyes.
"Hogwarts," She tasted the name on her tongue as she tilted her head up and gazed at the castle. "Hogwarts is my home, as much as it is yours, away from my so-called mother and father. I love Hogwarts."
I love Hogwarts. So did he.
"Hey, Tom," Christine suddenly felt a desire to break the silence between the two of them. He glanced over at her, and there seemed something wild and untamed in those eyes, before she blinked and it was gone, replaced by the warmness of his dark hues. "Do you like Quidditch?"
"Yes, I do! Though I have to say: I'm terrible at it. I've never been very skilled on a broom." He chuckled warmly. "I usually just fall off and make a complete fool out of myself. I'm usually at every game; it's a prefect's duty to maintain order in the stands. Of course that's not the only reason I come. I come to the games to see you play. You're perfection in the air, you realize that? It as if you have wings yourself."
Tom would smile in her direction. Did he just admit that? Well, it was true. He did enjoy watching her play, much to the confusion of his followers. He was softened, at times different, when he spoke of Christine and how she moved like a swan upon the breast of the air. The raging anger within was cooled and he might've been any other boy, excited and admiring of a young lady.
" I'm yourbiggest fan." He grinned and walked along at her side, his fingers cool and gentle against her own. " Perhaps one day when you are a famous Quidditch Star, you'll still remember poor Tom Riddle, who admired you so." He guided her back towards the lake once more and he'd lower to sit down at it's edge, his fingers slipping away from her own. "Just be careful. Quidditchis very dangerous. I don't want to see you hurt."
She giggled softly at his confession, a soft, nearly tinkling sound in many a person's opinion - she herself had always been good on a broom, always happy to be free, up in the air and away from all the problems with her parents, away from everything. Quidditch was her own little world away from the world. It was a strange phrase, but it was true for her. But just imagining the Prefect falling off of his broom and landing on the ground with a surprised look on his face brought the soft giggle up into her throat, softened the harsh gray eyes, and totally changed the usually emotionless unless she was angry, that is, and that was a completely different story mask that she wore. That was the closest to a laugh anybody got her to, really. She wasn't one who thought everything was all that funny. Except when Lucius tripped. That was funny.
She seated herself beside him at the lake's edge, knees pulled to her chest, looking down at him calmly. Well, this was a budding friendship, but she did feel as if she could trust him, for now. She was still on guard, though - still edgy, still alert - that was just the way Christine McCallion was. She was wild and untamable, like one of those mustangs that you see running through the grass at top speed. It seemed the minutes passed quickly, too quickly for her own sake, and they were to be heading back in - the conversation was rather normal, if she could say herself - talking about Myrtle, Quidditch, the stars, the reason why they existed - everything that could come to mind, and once the hour had ended, she was truly...well, spent. She wasn't much of a talker, so that long session just wore her out, and just as she was nodding off, Tom had realized it was time for the both of them to return to the castle.
"Christine?" What wasthis? Was she asleep? Head turned, so that his chin was level with his shoulder and sable eyes flickered down to rest upon her face. The gray eyes were slowly fluttering closed and her body looked as if it might fall backwards, to rest on the grass, at any moment. Tom had kept her out too late, hadn't he? "Christine? I must apologize. I've kept you out too late. You're about to fall asleep? Yes. I think I've lost you."
He rose to his feet, and stooped, sliding his arms under her legs and upper back and picking her up. Christine didn't weigh much - he was surprised that someone could be this light ; Christine did look like she had some substance to her, despite her moderately small form. Tom looked down at her half asleep form, hefting her up one more time and beginning to walk back to the castle. Christine was too groggy to complain, or to even move at the moment, so she kept her eyes on the silky petals of the moon lily case she held comfortably in her hands. She'd gazed at it while they'd been talking, and Tom had secretly smiled. He'd see her safely back to the Slytherin Common Room, carrying her through the halls, watching her as she contentedly ran her fingers down the glass case in her hand. Christine was standing again, at the top of the stairs, looking down at him.
"Sleep well, Christine. I enjoyed our walk; I hope you did as well."
A smile, and Tom Riddle was gone, replaced only by the glow of the fireplace and the gentle pound of rain beginning outside the window.
AN: Whee, this is my FAVORITE chapter so far. It's been a blast to write, anyways. ( shrug ) Random romance is always fun, riiiiiighhht? ( grin ) Tom seems kinda creepy and a little OOC. I'm sorry! ( claps hands together and begs for your forgivance ) I needed him to seem as if he like, cared for a moment!
Tom: You know, Christine DIDN'T have any weight to her. ( changes subject )
Me: I know, isn't that weird?
Tom: Maybe it's because i'm just that good. ( flex )
Voldemort: ...Don't get too far ahead of yourself, now.
Me: See you in chapter six! ( wave )