Kiss
by She's a Star
Disclaimer:
Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. The song 'Kiss' was performed by Marilyn Monroe...I'm not sure whose it is, but it's not mine, and that's good enough, right?* * *
Any other woman would have been terrified.
And really, who would have been able to blame them? This was practically suicide, by far the stupidest thing that she'd ever done. If she had the least bit of common sense, she would turn around right now and rush back to her house.
But it had to be done.
There was no use dancing around that, as much as she'd want to.
And when something had to be done, Ariella Vaughn never failed to carry out the task.
She had no room for fear, not now. Fear had been replaced by determination, and the light whisper in the back of her mind that she was doing the right thing.
His numerous little guards didn't surround the derelict Riddle House that night. He'd sensed her coming, no doubt.
Well, that didn't matter. Ariella didn't mind being predictable.
After all, whether her showing up was a surprise or a known visit, she'd still have the same fate.
She still wouldn't step out of that house again.
Shivers of fear began to run through her as she slowly pushed open the door, and she didn't attempt to stop them. She'd known the fear would come sooner or later, and it was best just to endure it.
She wasn't sure what it was, exactly, that she feared. It wasn't him, that was for sure.
She could never fear him.
Not after she'd loved him so deeply for so long.
"Ariella, my darling. I had a feeling you'd be coming."
His voice was terrible: high and cold, evil in its purest form.
She could still remember when he spoke softly, sweetly...
Back when he'd been a man, rather than a monster.
The word 'darling' was drawn out, mocking.
She'd used to love it when he called her that.
Nothing was the same anymore.
"Tom," she returned evenly.
"Perhaps you haven't heard," the Dark Lord said, still in the darkness so that she couldn't see any more than a shadow. "I don't go by that name anymore. I am Lord Voldemort, and that is what you will call me."
"You're Tom Riddle," she responded, voice strong and yet emotionless. "And you may be able to fool everyone else, but not me. I know you too well."
"You know nothing of me," he hissed, sounding almost irritated. "You know Tom."
"And where is this Tom, then?" Ariella asked skeptically, putting a hand on her hip.
"Tom is dead," the Dark Lord responded simply.
"Do you make it a hobby, to go around killing the men I love?"
"I figure it causes you more pain than your own death," Voldemort said smoothly. "You've always loved so passionately, Ariella. Foolish."
"You hate more passionately than anyone could ever love."
"Ariella, Ariella," he said with the air of someone speaking to a young, disobedient child. "I do not hate. Hate will get me nowhere. Neither will love. All I need is power."
"Fuck power," she retorted shortly. "Power destroyed you."
She could hear him clicking his tongue disobediently. "Always such a nasty mouth."
"Doesn't it make you sick, how many innocent people you've hurt?"
"No."
A wave of nausea washed over her at his answer. It was so brief, so concise and completely true.
There really was no human left in him at all.
"Well, it makes me sick. You're disgusting."
"Your life is slipping through your fingers, darling," he warned her, almost teasingly. His voice was light, and yet she could at once identify the undercurrent of malice. "You'd better shut your mouth."
"You can't control me," she said simply. "You never have and you never will."
"I can control anyone," he responded coolly. "I am the most powerful wizard in all the world."
"You're a sick, twisted, insane murderer," she corrected him. "Albus Dumbledore is the most powerful wizard in all the world."
"Fool," he spat, sounding angered at the name. "My own former fiancee supports that blasted coot. He is a feeble old man. I will defeat him with ease."
"He's got a power you'll never have," Ariella said, taunting. "It's impossible. There's no way."
"I can acquire all power."
"Not this," she replied, shrugging nonchalantly. "It's just not possible. You've screwed up all your chances."
"Quit blabbering on. I think I shall kill you now."
"Come into the light," she instructed the shadow who would surely provide her doom in mere minutes. "I want to see how you've wasted away."
"Wasted away??" he snapped. "I am more powerful than I've ever been! I've made my return, and with flourish."
And with that, he stepped into the thin stream of moonlight that spilled from the open door.
A shudder shook her entire body.
Was it possible, that this was the man she had loved so long ago? It didn't seem so...he was tall, thin, with unnaturally long fingers so unlike the ones she had used to entwine with her own. His skin glowed white as freshly fallen snow, his nose was just two tiny slits. And his eyes...
Oh, his eyes.
Red.
Red and piercing.
"You're hideous."
"You're beautiful," he responded evenly. "But you always were, weren't you, Ariella?" A short, wry laugh escaped thin lips. "Beauty counts for nothing. Beauty is not power."
"God, Tom-"
"Lord Voldemort!"
"Oh, excuse me," she scoffed, rolling her eyes. "God, Tom, you've completely lost your sense of knowing what's truly important."
"Power."
"If you say that fucking word one more fucking time, I'll come over fucking there and rip your fucking little red snake eyes out of their fucking sockets. Got it??"
Anyone else would have died the second they uttered those words. Hell, anyone else would have died the second they stepped into the house. But Ariella had a power over him, whether he knew it or not. She always would.
The power of first love could never be broken.
"You have no power over me," he hissed. "No one has power over me."
"Shit, you're a mind-reader too?" she asked sarcastically. "That's a great accomplishment."
"Nothing can be hidden from Lord Voldemort," he proclaimed. "I can explore the very recesses of your mind...it is impossible to lie to me."
"Well, good, because I'm not dancing around the truth."
"You're such a fool," he spat. "I shall enjoy killing you."
"Am I the reason you've done this?"
If the question caught him off-guard, he didn't show it.
"Yes," he whispered back menacingly, red eyes glinting evilly. "Yes, Ariella, my dear sweet darling Ariella. You were always such a good girl, weren't you? Always such a good person? All you cared about was the happiness of man-kind, of peace and hearts and little flowers. Well, Ariella, how do you feel, knowing that millions have been killed because of you, because you wouldn't grant me one simple request?"
"Nothing made you do those things," she responded, voice now shaking. "You did that yourself."
Her worst fear had been confirmed. It was her fault, her fault that the wizarding world had been thrown into devastation, her fault that so many had been killed.
"Oh," he cooed mockingly, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close to him. Revulsion pulsated through her veins, and she shuddered. "Oh, my poor darling. You're devastated that you killed all those people."
"I didn't kill them," she protested, fighting back tears. She wouldn't cry. She hadn't cried in the past ten years, Goddammit, and she wasn't about to start now. Not when she had such a short time to live.
"Cry, my darling," he ordered, voice piercing through her like a thousand knives. "Oh, wouldn't it feel wonderful to cry? It's been ten years..."
"Fuck off," she said shortly. "You'll cry before I do."
"Oh, my dear, I cannot cry!" he responded, sounding positively delighted. "I haven't cried since...oh, remember my seventh year at Hogwarts?"
"Stop it."
"Remember that day, Ariella?" he asked tauntingly. "Oh, I'm being foolish. Of course you do. How could you forget? Remember how I cried, cried and cried, said I was afraid that I was going to ruin the world? That evil pulsated through my veins? That I'd already murdered some innocent little girl with Slytherin's monster? Begged you to kill me?"
"Shut up."
"And I remember what you said, Ariella," he continued, voice positively sing-songy. "You said, 'Tom, I know you. You're a good person. I love you. I could never hurt you.'" He paused for a moment, and Ariella squeezed her eyes shut to prevent the tears from falling. "You wish you killed me, don't you?"
She didn't respond.
"Oh, of course you do," he said cheerfully. "I can see into the very depths of your soul. More than anything, you wish you'd killed me. Think of all the people you could have saved, my darling...the little children."
"Tom-"
"I still remember the first child I killed," he reminisced, eyes sparkling with delighted malice. "She was a beautiful little thing. Long, white-blonde hair...and the largest blue eyes. She stared up at me, so terrified...so scared. Her mother screamed in the distance, begging, pleading, before she collapsed in a faint. I-"
"You're disgusting!" Ariella cut in passionately. "You make me ill, you sick, twisted bastard!"
Voldemort continued as though she hadn't said a thing. "I was going to use Avada Kedavra at first. Then I thought perhaps I could inflict a bit of pain on the girl...use the Cruciatus Curse. But then..."
Ariella felt him shiver, her form still pressed to his, and she knew it was a shiver of sheer delight.
"I abandoned magic, Ariella," he said, a smile in his voice. "And I clasped my hands about her sweet little neck...and I shook the life out of her."
A choked sob escaped Ariella's throat, but she still held back the tears.
"She fell to the ground," he continued. "Bashed her little head on a rock, and blood seeped into that white-blonde hair...stained it."
I will not cry. I will not cry.
"And do you know who I thought of, my darling?" Voldemort asked, pulling her even closer to him so that she could barely breathe. "You. For truly, you were her murderer."
Silence filled the air, and she drank it in hungrily, begging it to soothe her soul.
"Do you remember that little song you used to sing to me, Ariella?" he asked. "Our song..."
"Tom, please-"
"How did it go again?" he mused.
The silence returned, but it was cut short after a moment by his soft humming.
The sweet tune, the tune of a song she loved so dearly, filled her ears.
"Kiss," he sang, voice low and smooth. Malice laced its way through the words, along with a cruel, cruel mocking. "Kiss me...say you miss...miss me."
The tears were begging to spill now, and her very soul ached with a pain she'd never thought imaginable. That song was a part of her spirit, something she'd always remembered fondly with memories of their romance.
It had been beautiful...so beautiful.
And now he was reducing it to a mocking joke.
"Kiss me, love," he continued maliciously, "With heavenly affection...hold...hold me close to you."
"Please stop," she begged in a whisper, her voice pained and barely audible. "Tom, please-"
He showed no mercy.
"Hold me...see me through...with all your heart's protection."
"Please, please stop..."
She'd sworn she'd never beg him, no matter what pain he inflicted upon her. And now she was going back on it, but she couldn't help it. He was tearing her emotions to shreds, smashing her heart into a million tiny pieces as though it were made of glass.
"Thrill...thrill me with your charms," his voice had grown quieter now, but it seemed to echo through her mind, adamant and relentless. "Take me...in your arms, and make my life perfection."
"Doesn't it break your heart to do this??" she asked desperately, still fighting the tears that would in no time overpower her.
"Ah, my dear, you're so naive," he responded, running his finger slowly along her cheek and causing a searing hot pain to run through her skin. "Don't you know...I have no heart."
She knew.
She'd always known.
Her face burned as though on fire as he cupped her chin in his hands and slowly neared her face towards his.
"Kiss, kiss me," he murmured, slowly closing his eyes. "Kiss me once again...make my dreams come true."
The split second his lips touched her own, death consumed her, and her lifeless form collapsed to the dusty floor.
Take me...
Darling, don't forsake me...
Kiss me, hold me tight...
Love me, love me...
Tonight.