Hi...yea, so I'm still alive...not dead yet-though I'm sure many of you have been wishing death upon me. Frankly, I don't blame you. I tried setting the Basilisk on myself but it didn't really work...I guess my bathroom sink's not really a portal then... I guess you all have my characters to than then, when they came to life and I was pulled unceremoniously away from university studies to write. I am currently under the Imperius curse and I have no option but to update. Loooong story short: universities=work=decline of free time=no update=sad author (who promises never to abandon a story without notice!) So...drumrolllllllllllllllll...:
Chapter 24 of A Serpent's Grip : How Fates Combine
I reached forward, plucking a glittering crystal fluke from the server's silver tray as it passed. I drank the fluke quickly, feeling the drink relax my nerves ever so slightly.
"Miss?" She piped up again, offering me the silver tray again. I replaced the empty fluke on in, reaching for another as I did so. In a matter of seconds I placed a second empty glass on the tray. I watched the slightest look of concern appear on her face as I reached for the third.
"Everything alright miss?" She asked softly.
I nodded.
"Just a little on edge, is all," I reply, taking a small sip of my glass.
She gave me another strange look, before dipping into a short curtsy, as skirting off to serve another guest. I took another small sip before draining the glass. My nerves were starting to get the best of me this evening. Deep down, I knew why, though I found myself attributing my nerves to other causes. Mother was certainly high on the list. She'd spent a good portion of the morning barking orders and firing insults and curses alike—a particular talent of hers. I could still feel the angry bruise across my ribs from a curse I failed to deflect.
I scanned the room slowly. My father was busy conversing with the minister in the far corner of the room. I smiled, feeling my nerves calm ever so slightly. I turned, continuing to scan the room. As I looked directly across from me, my eyes met those of Arius Black. He frowned, glaring at me with his impossibly pale eyes. I sent a small smile his direction. His glare intensified, and if there weren't at least a hundred people between us, I doubt he wouldn't have hesitated to hex me. I tilted my head, as if I were surprised by his action. Even from my place across the room, I watched his jaw tighten. He went to mouth something to me, but stopped suddenly. With a final cold look, he glanced away, turning his gaze towards someone else. I stared back at him, confused. When did Arius Black ever give up so easily?
"Perhaps he's found something better to do than challenge you, love."
I turned quickly towards the voice.
Tom Riddle stood directly behind me, as handsome as he'd ever been in all black dress robes. His green eyes seemed to smile as he surveyed me slowly. There was something different about him. Confidence? Though I'd never known him to be anything but. I couldn't exactly place it but I could definitely sense it—it was as if his commonplace arrogance had been replaced with something more profound—entitlement perhaps?
"You came," I finally managed.
His smirk widened as he stepped down from the foyer.
"Why wouldn't I?" he replied calmly, taking a step forward to stand beside me, "It'd be a shame to miss such a lovely sight."
In spite of myself, I felt a blush rise to my cheeks. Tom simply offered me his arm.
"Shall we?"
He led towards the dance floor at the center of the ballroom. He placed his hand on my waist, pulling me towards him as he took my hand in his. An unusual surge passed through me as the cold metal of the ring touched my skin, sending an unusual tingling sensation down my spine. I glanced up at Tom. He simply smirked, his green eyes glittering.
"Anti-theft spell," he replied simply, a faint coyness in his words.
He was lying. And I knew him well enough to know he done it obviously. He wanted me to know. Tom smiled again, cocking his head.
"Something the matter, love?" he asked.
"Your ring," I started, unable to find a more direct question about the sensation the ring caused.
"An inheritance," he answered, raising his hand to spin me. He caught my waist again, pulling me close to him.
The music came to an end, as the conductor turned and bowed towards the audience. Tom stopped, taking my hand as he bowed to me. I smiled, allowing him to lead me away from the ballroom. We passed through the crowd, arriving at the door to the outdoor balcony. Though outside, my father had bewitched to maintain the warmth of the house. Except for an elderly couple at the far end, it was vacant. Tom let go off my hand as he leaned forward onto the rail of the balcony.
"What is it Tom?" I asked, my eyes settling on the onyx ring resting on his right hand. "I don't believe you."
Tom laughed quietly to himself. The couple left the balcony, returning to the ballroom inside. Despite the dull murmur of voices from within the house, the balcony was silent.
"I told you didn't I?" He replied, "But I suppose you're not easily tricked."
He paused, smirking.
"However, I must admit, something tells me that assumption would not be entirely true."
I smirked, despite the frustration building in my stomach.
"I am perfectly fine without you Tom," I replied.
Tom raised his eyebrows, feigning surprise. I stared back at him for a moment, my own eyebrows raised, before turning to walk towards the other end of the balcony. I leaned forward, resting my arms on the stone railing. I stared out towards the dark forest below me, the deep nervous sensation returning in the pit of my stomach. I exhaled loudly closing my eyes.
"What's the matter, love?" he asked.
I shivered lightly as his cool fingers traced gently down my arm. I turned towards him slowly.
"It's nothing really," I replied, standing up abruptly from railing, "Probably something I ate."
Tom frowned.
"Why do I doubt that?"
"You're omniscient," I scoffed.
"I don't appreciate your sarcasm," he replied bluntly, "Tell me."
I exhaled loudly. I wasn't in the mood for Tom's questions. I frowned. I needed another drink.
"It's nothing, Tom," I replied, not even bothering to be sarcastic, "Don't worry about it."
Tom's hand caught my wrist as I turned towards the door.
"Tom, please let go of me," I sighed, turning back to him, "I'm alright."
He stared back at me, emotionless. His hand released my wrist. I took another step towards the door, hesitating before I turned back to him.
"I'm alright, Tom," I repeated, "I promise."
He stood there for a moment silently.
"Of course," he replied.
I heard footsteps on the balcony behind me. Abraxas Malfoy stood in the doorway, dressed in emerald and black robes that bore the silver Malfoy crest. I couldn't help but notice a change as he looked on at me; it lacked its commonplace arrogance, and was replaced instead by a more amicable air.
"I believe they're about to count down the New Year," he said calmly, walking towards us slowly.
Tom nodded, walking towards. Abraxas nodded cordially in my direction.
"Are you coming Fredrichs?"
I nodded slowly, following Tom towards the door inside. Abraxas smirked, handing him a small, silvery package as he passed.
"Happy Birthday Riddle," he said.
Tom nodded, taking the gift from him. He hesitated in the doorway, turning back to me.
"An interesting choice Fredrichs," Tom drawled slowly, reaching forward to finger the silver moon pendant hanging around my neck. Without a second word, he disappeared through the doors into the house.
I held it over the rubbish bin, debating whether or not it dispose of it, or destroy it with magic. Damned portkey. I had no idea how'd he'd managed to place it in here, or how he'd found the Gryffindor common room to begin with—most likely his prefect privileges had helped with that. I dangled it over the rubbish bin again, wondering where I'd scene it before. That symbol. I nearly dropped it when I recognized it: It was the same necklace my father had sent me back in year 1—before I went to Beauxbatons. I'd lost it after class one day, and spent day searching and crying for it. I…I couldn't dispose of it. I unhooked the clasp shakily, attaching the necklace behind my neck. Why did it matter? I wasn't wearing it for him.
I heard Cecelia call my name from the common room. She was still worried after last night. If only she knew the half of it. I took another glance in the mirror, making sure the bruise Abraxas' wand had left on my neck was not too visible. Somewhat satisfied, I turned to the staircase, trying to ignore the pendant as it bounced merrily along my collar.
Abraxas eyed me slowly.
"Everything all right, Lizzie?" he asked, "You seem a bit on edge this evening."
"I'm alright," I replied, watching Tom pass through the crowd ahead of us.
I followed Abraxas through the crowd, watching Tom until he disappeared amongst the guests. A server passed in front of us, offering his tray of champagne glasses. I took one, drinking it immediately before trading it for another from the tray. Abraxas gave me an odd sideways look. We arrived at the center of the ballroom and the newly conjured wooden platform. Overhead, large silver numbers shimmered as the counted down the seconds.
170.
My father stepped onto the platform, offering his hand to my mother. She smiled graciously, as the act of affection embarrassed her. I frowned, ignoring the light applause as I glanced upwards towards the clock. As I looked away from the ceiling my eyes met my father's. He smiled, beckoning me towards him with an outstretched hand. He squatted low, grasping my hand softly in his.
"Would you care to join us?" He asked, "I know you're not too fond of the being the center of attention."
Behind him, my mother frowned ever so slightly. I shook my head, smiling nonetheless.
"I'll be fine down here," I replied.
With a final squeeze, my father let go of my hand.
"I'll be expecting my New Years' hug from you first," he replied, kissing me gently on the cheek as he stood up, "I don't care how old you are—I plan to continue the tradition."
120.
I took a step back from the platform and away from the light that had been charmed to shine on them. I stood in the crowd beside Abraxas, who stared upwards towards the numbers. Tom had since disappeared. Perhaps it was for the best…now was not the time to be nervous. I watched the number tick down slowly, admiring the quiet ring that echoed through the ballroom as each number changed.
32.
Someone on my left shouldered into me, pushing me roughly into Malfoy's side. Abraxas didn't seem to notice as he stared upwards towards the silvery numbers overhead. Out of the corner of my eye, I spied Arius Black's dark hair. I turned towards him, glaring.
It wasn't Arius…It wasn't him at all.
I stared back in horror as the guest smiled at me, a crooked yellow-toothed grin.
"Pardon me," he drawled, his accent heavy, "Ve Vouldn't vant any vone to get hurt, now vould ve?"
I froze, unable to move or speak. My scream was trapped at the back of my throat. He couldn't…It wasn't… I thought he died… Either way the ministry would have captured him, wouldn't they have? There was no way the wouldn't have…they would have made sure he was dead… My arm throbbed painfully from where he'd shouldered me. I wasn't asleep. He was alive. And he was here. His smirked widened as beady eyes looked away from mine to stare towards something behind me.
13.
I turned slowly, mechanically, as if I were no longer in control of my actions. There, standing perched on a high balcony, his golden hair tied back, was a spitting image of Anthony Calanthe. But it wasn't him…he was older, at least by thirty years or so. His face was worn, vacant of its boyish glow, as time and years of violence took their toll. As if on cue, Grindelwald turned to face me, his golden eyes boring into mine. He smiled slowly, a cold, vengeful smile. He eyes staring into mine, he raised his wand towards my father.
7.
My senses came rushing back to me. I gripped my wand, pulling it from the hidden pocket of my dress. Before he could act, I stunned the yellow-toothed man, sending him to the ground with a loud thud. Someone beside me screamed. Beside me, Abraxas grabbed his wand.
3.
Grindelwald laughed once, the tip of his wand glowing green.
1.
No. The numbers above exploded into an array of brightly colored confetti. I screamed, firing a curse in his direction. He sidestepped easily, without bothering to deflect it, as he raised his wand a final time.
The curse hit my father squarely in the chest as he turned towards me.
He collapsed onto the platform, his vacant grey eyes staring back at me, as the faint traces of a smile played on his lips, as he'd turned to find me at midnight, to tell me he loved me, as he had done every year before. Several people screamed…I couldn't hear them. I just stared back into his eyes: grey, cold, vacant…dead.
A hushed silence fell over the room as whispers passed back and forth.
He's dead. Cristoff Fredrichs is dead.
I didn't realize I was walking backwards until I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned sharply, to find Malfoy staring back at me, his mouth opened slightly in shock. I stood there for a moment longer, feeling the attention of the room turn slowly towards me. Then I ran…
I gathered the hem of my dress, racing as fast as I could towards my room. I was not but a step or two inside the door before I collapsed to my knees, sobbing uncontrollably. He was dead. My father was dead. I barely heard her enter behind me.
"You did this," she hissed.
I turned slowly to find my mother's figure standing in the doorway, her wand raised.
"You did this!" She screamed, "You brought this on me!"
"Me?" I cried, feeling my despair shift towards anger. "I have done nothing! Nothing! You ungrateful monster, always caring about yourself! He's dead. Dead!"
"How dare you, you insolent little bitch!" She hissed, "Crucio!"
I collapsed to the ground, writhing as if I were burning alive. I could barely focus on anything beyond the pain, except my desire to not to scream. I would never give her that satisfaction. It did not take her too long to realize she wouldn't get the submission she desired. The curse ended abruptly. I lay there panting, trying to focus my thoughts. There was a sharp pain as she kicked me sharply in the side.
"I curse the day you were born, you miserable urchin!" She hissed, "He didn't deserve you!" she screamed, snatching me by my hair to bring my face to hers, "No one deserves you, you foul miserable excuse for existence. If your father hadn't pitied you, I would have killed you that day. I would have killed you!"
Her words echoed off the cold stone walls, shooting back at me like a reflected curse. I didn't want to hear them. There weren't true. I stumbled backwards slowly. I'd have better luck convincing myself the Cruciatus curse was all in my head. She shuddered violently, her angry breaths turning to sobs.
"He's dead," she sobbed, staggering slowly, "Cristoff's dead."
Another sobbed racked her body.
"Because of you!" She screamed, her voice echoing off the stonewalls of my room.
She collapsed to the floor, her arms wrapped around her face as she sobbed. I stood up slowly, my legs shaking. I could barely see through the tears that burned my eyes as I stumbled backwards towards the door. I hesitated, holding myself up against the doorframe.
I hated her. I raised my wand, my hand shaking as I raised it towards her miserable form, wanting her with every ounce of my being to suffer as much as I was.
"Avada…"
I felt a hand clasp my shoulder.
"Don't," Tom whispered.
His hand wrapped around my wrist, pulling me backwards and away from her.
It was as if I were in a trance; I followed him silently, allowing him to lead me along as if I were a puppet, no longer controlling my feet, or my body or anything else around me. The state faded slowly as the cold night air rushed past my face. We were on a cold stone balcony, far above the ballroom below us. Still, I could hear the guests buzzing faintly in the distance. I stumbled towards the railing, resting my forearms against the stone.
"You'll make a martyr of her," he said, his voice emotionless and mechanical, "They'll honor her name alongside your father's when his death becomes known—glorify her with the same honor they will bestow upon him."
I stared out over the forest spanning for miles below me.
"What would you do Tom?" I asked finally.
I turned to face him. He stared back at me, his eyes dark and emotionless.
"What would I do?" he mused.
"My father's dead. My mot…" I hesitated, my voice catching in my throat. I laughed once, in spite of myself.
"I have no family. I won't live here…" I exhaled, staring hard at the mountains in the distance.
Tom took a step forward, resting his cool hand on my upper back. He fingers circled slowly, tracing serpentine patterns along my skin. The motion was hypnotic, calming my nerves and my breath, as my tears slowly ceased from falling. I stared at the moon, listening to the faint pops echoing from the entrance far below me. The ministry was here. I exhaled deeply, closing my eyes, my fingers reaching slowly towards the pendant around my neck—a subconscious action I often found myself doing.
"See Lizzie?" He said, holding the pendant towards me, "It's just like mine."
My father kneeled, pointing to the Fredrichs Crest emblazoned on the lapel of his cloak. He looked up slowly, beaming proudly at me.
"So even when you're away at Hogwarts, I'll always be there..."
I tugged at the chain until the pendant fell loose into my hand. I looked down at it.
"I'll always be there," he'd said, "There's nothing you have to fear."
I let go. The pendant fell silently through the night air, flashing one in the moonlight before disappearing into the forest.
"There's nothing you have to fear."
"Your offer stands?" I asked slowly, my voice calm and trained.
I glanced over my shoulder towards Tom. He watched me silently, his pale skin reflecting in the moonlight like that of a ghost. A new sensation was building within, unlike the grief and sorrow that had previously consumed me. It was different, calm, controlling—not joy nor anticipation, or any other emotion I'd ever experienced. There was something about it, drawing me towards it, like a predator draws near its prey before it strikes. His dark eyes seemed to glow, as if they too were consumed by this new and present power.
"So your fear of your mother kept you from telling Dippet? You cannot hope to accomplish anything in this world if you're a subject to fear."
I turned back to Tom, throwing my arms up dramatically. "I'm human, what do expect?"
I turned back, pausing.
"What would you do, Tom?" I asked slowly, turning back to him. He stood far from me, in the center of the room, the lamps reflecting in his dark gaze.
"I'd become more than human."
"Then you are one of us," he said.
Something wicked this way comes...
Mini-CONTEST: send me your idea of a character (ie personality, description) in a message and I'll pick, hmm, let's say two to be in the next few chapters here. :D I love shameless contests as a means for additional inspiration.
Wait what's this? X-Mas break you say? A chance to update more regularly?
Shut up subliminal messaging, I'm trying to think.
Gasp. Epiphany: What if I planned to update within the next two weeks? Hmm...
Well, several things:
1. Am I sadistic? yes...
2. (deja-vu, perhaps?) mini-CONTEST: send me your idea of a character (ie personality, description) in a message and I'll pick, hmm, let's say two to be in the next few chapters here
3. on those next few chapters...they will become increasingly darker (yay! ...) and more Tom and Lizzie oriented (yay! ...again)
4. Wot happened to you ugly? ...No, not you... (hehe my favorite line, and second favorite HP character... guess who's in first place)
5. REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW (alors, je suis si desesperee, que j'ecriverai en francais: Donnez moi vos opinions!)
6. **see number 5
7. **see number 6
9. **see number 2 xD
10. I'm the writer. You're the reader. Readers Read on! ~Case Haley