Author: Artanis PM
‘Yet each man kills the thing he loves…’ Maeve Sinclaire will cherish and rue the day Tom Riddle ever laid eyes upon her.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Tragedy - Tom R. Jr. & OC - Chapters: 19 - Words: 93,122 - Reviews: 108 - Favs: 94 - Follows: 104 - Updated: 05-22-12 - Published: 08-28-09 - id: 5338802
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I've always disagreed with the theory that Tom was simply born evil. After all, it's our choices that make us who we really are, right, Dumbledore? Born heartless, born selfish and arrogant...but I find it hard to believe he was born evil. Every story has two sides, doesn't it? And you're not going to telling me that just because he was a sociopath he abstained from intimate human contact. It's a physical impossibility.
In any case, there's my rant about the typical Tom persona. And without further adieu, i give you Disenchanted:
"Each man kills the thing he loves, by each let this be heard
Some do it with a bitter look, some with a flattering word!
The coward does with a kiss, the brave man with a sword!" ~Oscar Wilde (The bloody genius)
"Try, try for some remorse, Riddle." The hatred that was almost greater than anything else roiled in Voldemort's mind, in his very being. Remorse?! REMORSE!? For what!? He regretted nothing, everything was his. Every dream so close to culmination now, and this insolent little pup, this maggot, was telling him to try for some remorse?! Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort regretted nothing--
"You dare--" But even as he spoke the words, the memory of one love, the only thing apart from himself that he had ever loved, because she herself had simply been but an extension of him. The slit red eyes which had once been a glittering gray silver, turned on a face amid the crowd. A face who's similarity to her grandmothers had not escaped him, a likeness which sent every fiber of his hate driven mind spitting with fury. Lies! LIAR!
Voldemort turned back to Harry Potter, his breath hissing angrily from his twisted sham of a body, this pathetic hull of what had been him. He only half-listened to the boys speech, answering with the barest effort. He wanted to kill the boy and be done with it, shut up the inane chatter that shocked him with each new revelation. There was no time to gloat, it was time to get the job done. To end it, once and for all. None of this boys foolish talk mattered to him.
"But what does it matter?" Tom said softly. "Even if you are right, Potter, it makes no difference to you and me. You no longer have the phoenix wand: We duel on skill alone…and after I have killed you, I can attend to Draco Malfoy…."
"But you're too late, you've missed your chance. I got there first. I overpowered Draco weeks ago. I took his wand from him." How dare he! How dare-!
"So it all comes down to this, doesn't it? Does the wand in your hand know it's last master was disarmed? Because if it does…I am the true master of the Elder Wand."
And it was in those last moments of his life, those last seconds, that Tom looked to the face that he recognized. A face that in the blazing sunrise, was not simply similar to her grandmothers, but identical. It was like she had appeared to punish him, a vision of loveliness to wave him away to hell like an avenging angel. Every memory rushed back…
Long, straight, white fingers clutched an apple. The fruit was light green, perfectly shaped so that the light caught the sheen of the skin just right in the dim light that trickled through the window pane. The sun smiled down on the castle today in a rare show of clement weather that prompted it's occupants to venture outside and enjoy the singular experience while it lasted.
Tom tipped his head back against the cool stone of the windowsill, rolling the apple in his palm. He lolled across the stone ledge, his long body stretched out like a snake sunning itself. He watched the other students through the glass, as if they were goldfish swimming around and around the same bowl. Some of them studied, others cuddled close with their respective partners, some first years ran about playfully…some just lounged about like him.
And then…there was her. She sat half-hidden under the boughs of a willow tree, curled against it's trunk. Long hair like molten golden drifted across the exquisitely sculptured features with the stirring of the breeze. She lay asleep, stretched out like some forgotten fairy queen, her fair skin shimmering wherever the sunlight kissed it. A year younger than him and completely, absolutely…intriguing.
She was not extraordinarily beautiful, just understatedly so. It was why he hadn'tpaif her any notice before, she hid the good looks well. No makeup and a very low profile. A blue and bronze tie around her throat coupled with the pile of books clearly indicated that this magnificent specimen was a Ravenclaw. Hmm, he'd never bedded one of those before, maybe it was time to try. In fact, the thought was appealing to him more and more by the moment. It was a house renowned for it's intelligence and(though the Sorting Hat would never say so) it's physically attractive occupants. Certainly, it had it's shortcomings: Muggle borns and Half-bloods. But you could tell by the tilt of this girls head that she was neither. Only the purest blood ran through those veins and under that perfect pale skin…
A shadow fell across the sill and Tom looked up just as a cascade of blue-black tresses blocked the Ravenclaw from view. He felt a long fingered hand slide up the inside of his thigh and another reach over and take the apple from his lazy grasp. The scent of Caoinin O'Brien was thick in his nose as she seated herself on his lap, her sapphire blue eyes focused on him completely as she took a seductive bite of his apple.
"I was going to eat that," Tom sighed and with a shove sent her tumbling to the ground.
"We can share it." She pouted, her ruby bottom lip jutting out pathetically.
"I'm done sharing with you, O'Brien. It's boring. Now, go away and leave me in peace." He looked out at the girl again, but she was gone. Damn!
"You cannot throw me away so easily, Riddle. My family's important, we have power. You need me." Despite Cao's harsh words, she sounded desperate. Tom Riddle gazed down into the china blue eyes, the milk white and perfect face…and laughed.
"No, I do not need you. Or at least, not anymore." And he turned away from her, tossing the apple over his shoulder.
The persistence of this particular scorned lover, however, could not be ignored. She was aggravating, she was endlessly in pursuit of his attention. And he was fast losing his patience with the shallow, weak little creature. Perhaps, if Cao had not been so unbearable, he never would have spared the Ravenclaw a second glance. Maybe she would have escaped….
"Tom, who the hell are you ogling now?" Caonin O'Brien's whine was like a mildy annoying fly and Tom Riddle made a swiping motion close to his ear. How could she still be bothering him? What an incredible nuisance she was. He glared down into the stunningly beautiful face. Her milky skin was stretched tightly over her high cheek bones and her features seemed inconsistent. Her rosy lips were pulled back slightly over her teeth as she glared at the Ravenclaw girl he'd been staring at. Curls that glinted blue black even in this dim light cascaded down her back. She reminded him vaguely of a shark, sapphire blue eyes always hunting for more prey. It was what had attracted him in the first place, her cool disdain. What drove him away was boredom and irritation.
"Don't you have someone else to bother, O'Brien? Something better to do then be mind-numbingly predictable?" He murmured coldly and turned away from her, eyes searching for the Ravenclaw girl again. There was a snicker from across the table and Caonin turned and flicked her wand so it was pointing at the boy who'd just sat down on Riddle's left.
"What are you laughing at, Lupus Black?" She spat the words so viciously spittle flew from her lips. Tom winced again at the shrillness of her tone and tried to catch sight of the girl.
"A kitten with her claws unsheathed." Lupus responded casually and almost instantly noticed the focus of his friends attention. "She's a bit plain, isn't she?"
"Pureblood." He said distractedly, his eyes on the girl. Blonde hair fell to her waist and her face had a pleasant shape, similar to Caonin's yet far, far softer. Her skin was more creamy than milky. Her cheeks had a sort of elegant hollowness to them, facial features that flowed together seamlessly. Her eyes were wide and expressive, a deep and rare emerald green.
He let his eyes stray over the rest of her, appraising her figure. It was difficult to tell how she truly looked, the most beautiful lines of a girl's body were hidden under school robes. Thin, but not that unhealthy, birdlike thin. She shifted in her seat, stretching her long legs. Lean and toned, the legs of a Quidditch player, he could tell from here.
"Oh yes, would you look at that. Now, Tom. What do you really want from this one? Another whiner like Cao? More sex?" Lupus took a giant swig of pumpkin juice and winked at a passing Slytherin girl.
"That was awfully crude…" Abraxas Malfoy snapped.
"Hush, both of you. Let's see Tom work his magic." Rafe Lestrange perched on the edge of the bench and watched the girl with an intent look in his eyes. The other's followed his gaze until the Fortunate Slytherin Five were all watching the girl with the intentness and predatory gaze of a wolf pack.
One of her friends leaned across the table and whispered something and she looked up at them. Two heads went down abruptly and Rafe averted his gaze. Only Tom succeeded in meeting her eyes. They were a startling emerald green, the colour that only the purest gemstones and newest spring buds could achieve. A smile spread across Riddle's lips as she glared at all of them in turn: First Abraxas, then Lupus…Rafe looked up and blew her a kiss. Her friends cackled loudly as she finally came back to Riddle. Her gaze dropped and she turned back to her table and didn't look back over her shoulder once the entire meal.
"Poor form, Lestrange. No wonder your all alone but for an off and on fling." Tom replied, dark eyes still boring a hole into the back of this girls pretty blonde head. Now he was interested: If she'd stared back at him like countless other girls he'd 'dated'(He called it that for lack of a better word.)she would have fallen to Cao's category of the bedded and boring. But she wasn't sheepish, or giggly. She just seemed vaguely…annoyed.
"Oh come on now, Riddle. With you here who would want us? I may as well get my delightful kicks in while I can, eh? Has she looked back over yet?" Rafe laughed, a rich, dangerous kind of laughter.
"No. But I have claim." Tom answered shortly and stared straight at her with a determined look. After a moment he leaned back and returned to picking at his food. Riddle never ate much, especially when he was scheming. For the rest of the week, Riddle watched and calculated. Her name was Maeve Sinclaire, a straightforward, yet still beautiful name. Not some foolish name like Anna-Linda or Daisy or something equally as idiotic and childish. It was one of those delicate names that slid off the tongue well, pleasantly soft and yet sharp to the ear. Maeve Sinclaire. Maeve Sinclaire…