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Nothing Lasts Forever by Rebitt

Format: Short story
Chapters: 3
Word Count: 3,973
Status: WIP

Rating: Mature
Warnings: Strong Violence, Scenes of a Sexual Nature, Substance Use or Abuse

Genres: Horror/Dark, Romance
Characters: Voldemort, OC
Pairings: Other Pairing

First Published: 05/22/2009
Last Chapter: 07/07/2009
Last Updated: 07/07/2009

Summary:
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It's funny how one girl pushed him farther into the darkness than he'd ever imagined and yet that very same girl was his only downfall.
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Many people thought Voldemort could feel no remorse, but those people have never heard this story.


Chapter 3: Chapter two

Chapter Two




Rebecca awoke early the next morning at quarter to seven.

Lifting her feet from under her covers she gracefully placed them on the cold stone floors. A shiver ran up her body from the tips of her feet. She sighed silently. Another day of schooling awaited her.


Nimbly, she maneuvered the massive piles of shoes and skirts and blouses that littered the dormitory’s floor, making her way to the bathroom.


After a steaming shower, Rebecca wrapped a dark blue towel around her and sat down on the bathroom counter, gently applying her signature red lipstick. She never went anywhere without it gracing her lips.


She quickly cast a drying spell on her hair witched then became instantly wavy, curling slightly at the ends.


Dressed in uniform and schoolbag hanging carelessly off her left shoulder, Rebecca made her way down the spiraling staircase to the Ravenclaw common room, past the sculpture of Rowena Ravenclaw, and out the tapestry.


She made her way down to the great hall. When she arrived, she let out a sigh of relief. It was almost empty. Well, it was to be expected seeing as it was only five after seven and classes didn’t start until nine.


She looked around as she made her way to the long Ravenclaw table. There were maybe two other Ravenclaws, both fourth years who were sitting at the far end. Both of them looked up and stared as she sat down at the other end.

There were no Gryffindors, save four first years, and only one lone Hufflepuff. She then peered over at the Slytherin table.


There were a couple of younger kids in the center, and maybe a few sixth years who she discarded as they quickly began muttering to themselves. She knew it was about her from the continuous glances thrown her way. Her eyesight moved down the table to a very handsome seventh year, just the one, in fact, that she had been thinking about the night before.


He was staring at her too. Not like the other people in the hall, not with jealousy or gossip, but just staring.

After about ten seconds, she quickly averted her eyes down to her half eaten piece of toast. She hurriedly finished it, all the while stealing glances up at the enigma by the name of Tom Riddle. He just kept staring at her.

When done with her toast, she gracefully pulled her legs over the bench and left the hall, making her way to the grounds. She needed some fresh air and some room to think.



◊◊◊




Tom had awoken at his usual hour, so he would have time to visit the library. He did not plan on seeing Rebecca in the great hall.


He had been sitting there, in silence, book in hand, quietly minding his own business. That was, until he felt her presence in the room. He looked up, and sure enough, there she was.


He couldn’t avert his gaze. The swinging of her hips as she walked had captured him. Her small wrists and delicate hands. Her flowing hair. There was nothing he could do but stare. He wanted to run his hands up and down her sleek figure, to hold her in his arms and kiss her blood red lips.


He surveyed her as she surveyed the rest of the hall. Why was she here so early? He thought. He had never seen her at break fast. In fact, he had never seen her alone.


But then, as quickly as she had come, she left, and as soon as she had passed through the large wooden doors that led to the great hall, Tom felt his feet and legs begin to act on their own accord. He slowly got up, grabbed his book bag and followed her.


When he reached the entrance to the school, he saw her walking briskly across the large and expansive lawn. He silently strutted after her, keeping a safe distance behind all the while. He watched her as she made her way partially around the lake to a covered and secluded area where, if he hadn’t been watching her walk to, he was sure he wouldn’t have noticed.


He saw her sit down on a rock and take out a pack of cigarettes and begin to rummage through her bag. Tom quickly noted that she was looking for a lighter, and decided that this would be as good a time as any for conversation.


He jogged down to her, but slowed down at the end, to keep his composure of course. Slowly, he made his way up to her, keeping sure not to make a sound.


He stood behind her for a moment, before saying slyly, “Little early in the morning for a smoke, huh?”


Rebecca looked up at him, gave a small gasp, and quickly threw her cigarette into the vast lake, where it floated serenely on the top.


“Now, why would you throw it out?” He questioned, a small smirk playing at his lips.


“Well, you are head boy aren’t you?” She stared at Tom, taking in his exquisite figure. “And it is against school policy, to be smoking, I mean,” she continued.


“Everyone bends the rules sometimes,” Tom threw her a dazzling smile. The kind of smile that if he ever showed to other girls they would immediately start drooling, but it didn’t seem to affect Rebecca. “Mind if I join you then?” Rebecca simply shrugged and scooted over on the rock a bit, to make room.


Tom sat down, and she offered him a cigarette, he took it and placed it between his lips. Rebecca noticed this. She had been watching his every move, and when her attention was brought up to his lips, she felt a shudder run down her spine. She quickly discarded it as she looked at him gravely and asked, “Why are you really here Tom?”


Tom, took his time in answering her question. Before doing so, he raised his wand up to the cigarette, gently lighting it. He then inhaled the fumes, relaxed his shoulders and let the mixture of the smoke and his breath out.


Finally, he replied to her query, “You intrigue me.”


This statement caught Rebecca off-guard. She had originally thought that Tom had come to scold her for something or other so it took a few second for his sentence to sink into her skin.


“How so?” She didn’t know to feel flattered or uneasy. She knew that Tom Riddle didn’t usually flatter anyone so if it was flattery, it must have meant something.


“Well,” said Tom, but just at that moment, a piercingly cold gust of wind rolled by, billowing Rebecca’s hair our from under her scarf. Tom looked at her, and it seemed as if time had slowed down. Her hair flowed gracefully in the air, striking dark lines across a dismal and gray sky. He could hear the leaves shiver from behind them, and as the wave of turbulence died down, Tom gently moved his hand to brush one of her long strands of hair behind her ear.


Rebecca blushed at this gesture. She still wasn’t sure why Tom was here though, or why he had been staring at her. It was all a little unnerving.


“You were saying?” Rebecca prompted.


“Oh,” Tom peered into her eyes, “I actually had a question for you, if you would answer, that is.” Tom Riddle was very polite, Rebecca noted. But again, she couldn’t tell if it warmed her to him or if it was a fake politeness, only used when he wanted something.


Either way, she didn’t really feel like she could deny him anything that he might ask.


“There is a rumor going around school,” Tom continued, “and people have been saying that you are a descendent of the great Rowena Ravenclaw.” He stopped, looking at her to see her reaction, if he should continue, or if it was a weary subject. Rebecca merely blinked. “Is it true then?” Rebecca could hear the wanting sound of his voice. He was hungry for information, and part of her wanted to be like a cat and mouse, playing with it’s prey before giving in and killing it. Obviously she would not kill Tom, but she did have a distinct urge to taunt him a little before.


“And why would I tell you, Riddle?” Her eyes narrowed as Tom could see a small grin threatening to break her pristine face. Tom wasn’t sure if break was the right word. A smile would definitely not break her face, probably only enhance her beauty, and for one small moment, Tom wanted nothing in the world except to make her smile.


“Because,” said Tom, “I might tell you something as well.” He wasn’t sure why he had said that. He had never told any one of his followers that he was the heir to Salazar Slytherin, but something compelled him to tell this stunning young brunette. That was, only if she too was an heir to one of Hogwarts’ founders of course.


“Oh.” Rebecca looked down into her lap where a forgotten cigarette lay intertwined in her fingers. Was she interested in whatever he might tell her? She couldn’t answer this question. Although Tom Riddle was an enigma, a part of her felt as if she didn’t really want to know too much about him. Of course, that was only a part of her, and that part was quite smaller than the raging curiosity that was not only brewing in her mind, but in her heart as well.


“You first,” Rebecca said bluntly.


“Ah, but I asked you first, *ma cher.” Tom took another drag from his cigarette, and stared at her lightly. Rebecca knew what ma cher meant, speaking French fluently, and decided she liked the sound of him calling her that. It sounded elegant, graceful and romantic when he said it, as opposed to how corny it sounded in the **muggle moving pictures.


Rebecca looked up at Tom, directly in his eyes, and suddenly felt this swooping feeling in the bottom of her stomach. She gulped. His eyes, were completely dark, she could barely tell that there was a pupil at all, seeing as the iris blended into black. They were captivating. They were striking. She almost felt as he she was being sucked into them, into Tom. It took all her strength to bring her back to the present moment, and lightly nod her head, whispering a faint “Yes,” that gently floated off in the bitter Autumn wind.







Hi, hope you like the new chapter. Remember: Reviews!
Also; footnotes:
*ma cher -- dear in French.
**Muggle moving pictures – seeing as it is the 1940’s in this story, moving pictures is what they called movies back then, since, that is what they were.

Alright, thanks for reading!
xoxo, Rebitt




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