Chapter 24
December 15th, 1943
Hope
“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” Mary whispers in my ear, her hug reminding me of a boa constrictor readying its next meal. “What if he hexes you? Who’s going to have your back?”
“I can handle Riddle, don’t worry,” I say before releasing her.
Anthony mouses my hair, and then wraps an arm around my shoulders, “Just because you nearly dethroned Hogwart’s golden boy does not mean that you’re in danger. I’m sure his snake skin is thick enough to enjoy the competition.”
My laughter fills the Hogwart’s station, the train waiting to take away my friends. Along with most of the student body, including nearly my entire house. There are a couple stragglers, all of them too young and too unimportant to make a go for my hand. The other houses are a different story. Already, I can feel eyes searing into my back.
“Still, no one has come that close to beating Tom Riddle. He never leaves the castle for the holiday; if I were him, I would see this as an opportunity,” Mary continues, the worry evident in her voice.
Appraising her, the small dent between her brows, the way she worries her lip, I find myself wondering. My friends haven’t brought up my alleged need to become attached since I told them about Walburga and Dolohov. That could be because they know how close Riddle, their top choice, is to them.
Convincing my friends that retaliation is pointless was far more heartwarming than it should have been. My friends are surprisingly vicious when someone they care about is threatened. But, Anthony wasn’t kidding about Riddle being a golden boy here. I’m just not sure how deep that belief runs in the student body, and my friends. Maybe the gilded throne was painted, maybe he’s as golden as the chocolate coins I used to eat as a child.
I smile at her confidently, holding her shoulders so she can see how serious I am, “I’m sure you’re right about the opportunity, but he won’t use it to hurt me. I won’t let him.”
Looking between both my eyes, Mary must find what she’s looking for because she nods. Arm and arm with Anthony, the two get on the train, waving at me through a window as it chugs down the track. I stand there at the station, waving until I can’t see the train anymore. Even then I pause, not caring that the last of the staying students leave to go back to the castle.
It’s brisk, but I don’t mind the cold. December in Scotland is beautiful, the crisp air biting my nose and clouding my breath. Pristine white surrounds me, blanketing every bench, branch, and arch in view screaming Christmas. Even if my friends have left, I still see blinding beauty that reflects the sun so vividly. Until I turn to head back, and find a terrifying sight.
“Hope,” Riddle starts confidently, holding out a bouquet of Christmas Roses and Winter Iris. He’s in well tailored, fancy robes with slicked back hair, minus the one curl at the top of his forehead. “Won’t you let me take you to breakfast?”
My expression is dubious at best, “You were really waiting for everyone to leave to do whatever this is?”
My response prompts him to walk to me, the arm carrying the flowers relaxing for the time being, “What I have planned did take a bit of time to put together, I won’t lie. However, waiting for the student body to leave serves one purpose for this break. I can assure you that there is no shyness when it comes to this well deserved apology.”
“Then why?” I ask exacerbated, still not reaching for the flowers.
Moving to stand next to me and linking our arms together, Tom leans to lowly speak in ear, “So that you know everything that happens is for no one else’s benefit than yours and mine.”
My response dies on my tongue, and I look at him skeptically. His first steps are halted by my lack of movement, and he finally meets my eye again. Studying the black depths, I find something that makes me frown.
Something that makes me question, that makes me wonder, and creates the first irritating chips in the armor I’ve built over the last two weeks. I find sincerity and, dare I say, a bit of hope.
Curiosity eventually wins and I let him lead to the carriages. He holds my hand while I climb into the last one, and I can’t figure out if I’m happy that both of our gloves separates our skin. When he sits next to me, he conjures a red, flannel blanket to drape over our legs.
Acting like a magician, he pulls a thermos out of no where, and when he unscrews it I can smell chocolate in the steam. Tom offers me the top after he pours it half full, and I hesitantly take it. When I continue to stare at him, he rolls his eyes before taking a sip from the main container with a pointed look. A small smile splays on my lips as I take my first sip, and holy shit that’s the best hot chocolate I’ve ever had.
It’s as if someone melted a hunch of dark chocolate in a bunch of sweet cream and condensed milk, plus I swear there’s cinnamon and cloves in here as well as his scent. There are marshmallows already melting on top and it’s absolutely delicious. Looking at him again is a mistake, he’s awful smug sitting there with a tiny chocolate mustache.
“Alright, get on with it. What’s this all about?” I ask while a couple thestrals pull us towards the castle.
After wiping his face, Riddle smiles with complete ease, “This is our first date. Before you deny anything, I’m giving you a very special gift for your cooperation and participation. Something I have never offered another human, magical or otherwise.”
“Right,” I start, my doubt present in every breath. “So, you’re bribing a date out of me?”
His laughter puffs out of him like steam leaving a volcano, “I wouldn’t phrase it in such a way, but sure. We can go with that.”
“Let’s hear it then, what magical thing can you offer that will suddenly make me not want to run to Ravenclaw tower the second this carriage stops?”
Like fresh, fallen snow, Riddle’s teeth sparkle in the morning light, “Complete, unadulterated honesty.”
My eyes are blown wide, and my mouth hangs open. Studying his face, I find only amused seriousness, and that alone is beyond shocking. Tom Riddle, evil mastermind, snake hiding in a golden spotlight, is offering me a look behind the curtain. That sounds too good to be true, like a trap. Why would he offer me of all people such a thing?
“No, there’s no way,” I scoff after a moment, waving away his silly proposition. “You aren’t seriously offering transparency, so what do you actually want. What’s the catch?”
He sighs, his expression never faltering as he grabs one of my hands, “There is no catch, Hope. This is all one big, overdue apology for my many blunders. I realized that having one foot in and one foot out wasn’t fair to you or my men, so I spent the last two weeks ensuring they are in order. With my house taken care of, I can now confidently bring you into the fold, and I can assure you that there will not be any more…miscommunications.”
“Are you calling Dolohov attacking me a ‘miscommunication?’” I ask incredulously, turning in the seat to face him fully.
My eyebrows are nearing my hairline, and he waves off my concerns with a flippant motion, “He’s learned his lesson for assuming he knew how to help me. You can call his misstep a misguided attempt to right what he perceived to be a wrong. My mistake was not informing my men that my intentions towards you have changed. That wrong has since been righted, and now my men understand that a move against you is a move against me.”
“Wha—why? How would that— why?” I stammer, blinking furiously while my mind struggles to absorb his words.
I just…I don’t understand. There’s no reason to declare such a thing to his followers, the ones who still are likely to do something dirty to end up married to me. If anything, claiming an alliance or feelings or whatever bullshit would create an obstacle his men would have to get over in order to continue following. Somehow I became a jewel that the Purebloods want, and their Halfblood leader may as well have sat me atop his crown. This can’t end well, not for him, and not for me.
Riddle patting my hand pulls me from the mental spiral, “Because I’m serious about you, Hope. Your place is by my side, and that means that you likely should know where we are going. My followers are now aware of the fact, and after today, you will be too.”
“So, what exactly are you proposing?” I ask, irritated that I might actually be on a date right now.
His smile gains a bit of slyness, but his tone stays consistent, “For the duration of our date, I will truthfully answer any and all questions you have. In exchange, you allow me to court you, for real.”
“That sounds like a one-sided deal,” I hear myself saying, confusion evident in my voice. “You’re going to trade me your dirty secrets in exchange for what? A hand full of dates, the opportunity to give me gifts?”
Riddle shakes his head at me, a touch of disappointment joining the humor, “You really don’t see it, do you? Well, you can lie to yourself, but I gave my word I wouldn’t. At least, not today.
“What you see as a one-sided deal, I see as expanding. I am offering you my secrets and my plans in exchange for the most powerful witch this world has ever seen to quit running from me. While my actions have left much to be desired, I know you like me.
“You can look at me like I’m crazy all you want, but even you are still human. The way your eyes dilate when you look at me, the way your breath catches as I lean towards you, and if you think I don’t feel your eyes on me, then you’re more naive than you should be. And you aren’t, Hope.
“Even undermining yourself, you know just how much of an asset you are. Where my followers see a gorgeous face and magical magnitude, I see a witch that can run circles around even the brightest Pureblood. When you stop fighting me, you’ll eventually come to the same conclusion I’ve come to; that you and I can and will be the most powerful beings to ever rule this world.”
He ends on a whisper, doing everything that he’s narrated. Just like he claimed, my breath catches as his scent washes over me. The shiver that travels down my spine has nothing to do with the temperature outside, and it makes me frown. Not liking my reactions is one thing, him calling me on it is another entirely.
“How are you so sure that I’ll pick you in the end?” My question doesn’t come out as strong as I wanted, making me sound off kilter.
“Because,” he tells me, his expression turning predatory. “When I say that you’re mine, I’m not talking about ownership, Hope. It’s about inevitability.”
*****************
“Where are you taking me?” I ask, nervous when we start descending stairs.
Riddle pats the hand nestled in the crook of his elbow, “Worry not, we’re on our way to visit some of your friends.”
Raising an eyebrow, I let him lead me in slightly concerned silence. Once we’re surrounded by paintings of food, I calm down considerably. Well, I suppose breakfast will be more lively with the elves that made it, but I wouldn’t say giving the elves work is what I would call a fun date.
Once he tickles the pear, and opens the door, my mouth hangs open. The kitchen is still the kitchen, but there are yule decorations everywhere. The vines toward the ceiling are all mistletoe now, green pine covers nearly every surface, thankfully leaving the stove and ovens bare. All the pots and pans have been charmed red, and glittering ornaments decorate the space like icicles shining in the sun.
The most surprising part, is that there are no elves present. Tom ignores my confused look, bringing me to a table set for two. Pulling out the chair, I hold back the urge to roll my eyes when he scooches it in for me. Technically, even in my world, that’s considered good manners. But, despite being supernatural royalty, I’m about as used to the fancy as Ronald McDonald.
When he walks to an oven I can’t help myself anymore, “Where are the elves?”
Tom only pauses for half a second, putting on mitts before pulling something out of the oven. As he brings it towards the table, I notice the almost nervous look on his face. As if he cares what I think of the dish, as if he made it. My confusion only compounds the closer he gets. It smells…familiar?
“The elves are enjoying the first successful batch,” he tells me while setting the steaming rectangle on a hot pad on the table. Moving to his seat, I notice a slight blush dusting his cheeks, “When I asked them to teach me how to make something amazing for you, they insisted on your bread pudding recipe. It took a few tries to get right, but I believe we will both enjoy this.”
After he serves me, I take a big bite, and moan at the explosion of spices. Cinnamon, nutmeg, and allspice dance on my tongue, and the texture is just right. When I open my eyes, I find an adorably proud look on Tom’s face.
“It is very good, thank you,” I start, taking a quick sip of water before getting on with it. “So, tell me. What exactly are your plans?”
His smile falters, but otherwise keeps his casual demeanor, “Well, my goal has always been some type of global domination. I’ve debated on the best way to do such a thing, but recently I’ve been leaning towards utilizing the various ministry connections that Slughorn has offered. Traveling to learn magic from different cultures interests me as well, though.”
Ice travels down my spine, but I know that I have to keep asking questions, “If you do end up ruling the world, what would that look like?”
“Witches and wizards treating us like royalty, deferring to us before any governing body,” he says with a happy shrug. “Schools like Hogwarts would thrive, although I would ensure that Defense classes include a much more in depth look into dark magic.”
“What about the rather strong ideology that all of your followers cling to?” My look is pointed, I know he isn’t being completely forthcoming.
His sigh only proves it, “My men would prefer to stay in the limelight, however I care little for blood politics. Muggles learned long ago how inbreeding can destroy families, but social power trumps logic and science in their minds.
“As far as they’re concerned, I plan on allowing the elite to keep their impossible standards. But, I don’t foresee putting much stock in their flawed belief system. Only enough to keep them moderately happy and separate from the masses.”
I nearly scoff but stop myself, “Yeah, I’m sure that your very powerful friends won’t want to harm anyone of a different blood status.”
“I won’t lie and tell you that isn’t true,” he tells me with a sober expression. “However, order cannot exist alongside chaos. Becoming a ruler of the world will likely lead to blood shed, and that will be the time for them to revel in their violent tendencies. Once I am firmly in power, they can deal with criminals.”
My skepticism is practically tangible, “And what of muggles? Are you like Grindelwald, wanting to eradicate the lot of them?”
Tom tilts his head, looking at me curiously, “No, I plan to rule over them just as much as any magical folk. Why do you seem so convinced that I’m going to have the streets stained red?”
A blush overtakes me and I look away from his inquisitive gaze. Maybe all that dark magic is what tipped Mr. Riddle over the edge. He hasn’t lied to me, which I’m not sure how I feel about. On the one hand, hearing that he doesn’t plan on mass killings or hunting down muggleborns is good. Genocide really should never be a goal.
But, knowing what his future would likely be if I didn’t interfere, I’m not sure I trust his vision. Just because he isn’t lying about his plans today, when he’s still a sixteen year old boy, is good and all. But, it was always the man that caused such problems. It’s not exactly like I can tell him that, though.
“After what I saw with the Basilisk and Myrtle…I guess I just assumed that was the path you were heading down,” I choke out, not able to make eye contact.
“Hmmm…Well, there will be death. While I am mastering the dark arts, I will need to commit some rather…unsavory acts. That being said, I detest Grindelwald’s ideology. Truthfully, I believe it is rather short sighted to eradicate any group. Human, magical, or otherwise,” he explains, still looking at me curiously.
Clearing my throat, I ask, “Are you aware of the negative effects of practicing dark magic?”
That surprises him, and Riddle leans back as if I slapped him. For the first time today, he’s looking at me skeptically, and his tone matches, “I am more than aware of the stigma associated with dark magic.”
Looking back at him, I shake my head while I try to think of how to phrase this, “No, I don’t mean people’s opinions. Granted, this was back in my world, but I grew up with a girl named Josie. She was a different kind of witch than you or I, but she accidentally was overcome by dark magic. Too much of it acted like a poison, and she ended up hurting a lot of people she cared about because of its influence.”
“How was she a different witch?” he asks, leaning in and giving me his complete, undivided attention.
“She was considered a siphon,” I start, wondering how I can explain this succinctly. “Basically, she had to drain something or someone of a portion of magic which she could then use. But, anyone can fall victim to dark magic, including us. I’m not saying that its not useful or should be avoided entirely, I’m saying that it’s like alcohol or any other drug. You have to use it responsibly, or it will change and warp you.”
Riddle takes on a pensive expression, and I thank the stars that my change of topic is taking his mind away from my blunder. On the off chance that he’s right, that him and I are an inevitability, I do want to tell him the very real issues that will arise if he isn’t careful.
If this is the same Tom Riddle from the books, if Dumbledore is right that he is just a boy, then maybe he can choose a different life. If he follows a different, non-genocidal path, then would it really be so bad to be by his side? What if splitting his soul too many times is what led to the madness? What if the Voldemort I read about is the equivalent of Dark Josie?
“I will have to look into that,” he starts, staring off to the side while he absorbs what I’ve told him.
“You really should,” I tell him seriously. “But, for now, how do I factor into your plans?”
That makes him chuckle, his expression turning fond as he looks at me again, “That’s easy. You’ll be the queen to my king, having just as much a say as I do once you accept your place by my side.
“I understand that you would appreciate a more merciful transition into power, and I will try my best. Together, I believe that your goodness and intelligence will compliment my aggressive success. My darkness won’t be so oppressive with you lighting the way, and everyone knows that politicians in the middle are much more appealing to the public than extremeists.”
My hands start shaking, and I put them beneath the table before he notices. In theory, that is a very attractive plan. If I take the time to admit to myself that Tom affects me the way he says he does, then I can admit that parts of me are reaching for the future he’s described. As a ruler, I could do so much good, I could keep Tom from going too dark.
But, that’s assuming that I’m still me once I’m a fully activated Trybrid. Considering that’s one of my biggest fears, that I’ll wake up and be the plague the witches claimed I would be, I have no idea what an alliance with Tom would end up looking like. What if…what if I end up being darker than him? What if the two of us end up being evil incarnate, our darkness compounding together?
“Are you alright?” Tom asks softly, pulling me from my spiraling.
He seems so worried, his hand on the table looking like he was reaching for me before realizing my hands aren’t on the table. Considering that I’ve already asked for his help, and the fact that he seems intent on us ending up together, maybe I should tell him about my fears. He will surely use them to make us closer, but it’s not like I can tell Dumbledore about my worries.
Admitting to the only adult in my life that I might turn into an actual monster isn’t exactly smart. Not when he’s likely to interfere or something. Tom is the only one who knows enough to understand my fears without me having to divulging a ton of information. That doesn’t make it a good idea, but it does mean he’s my only option.
“I—I’m afraid that your plan won’t work,” I start, steeling myself for the coming conversation. “After I die, I have no idea what I’ll be like when I wake up. I’ve been hunted since my conception in my world because a witch foretold that I would be akin to a plague. There’s a chance that I won’t be me when I wake up, and I’ve been afraid of this my entire life.”
Unable to face him, I stare at the table. My heart is racing like a hummingbird’s, and I count the grains in the wood to try to calm myself down. My breathing is just as erratic, and no matter how much I try, I can’t get it under control.
Suddenly, Tom is kneeling next to me, grabbing my shaking fists from my lap. He urges me to unclench them, and I do, curious as to what he’s going to do. Large hands smooth out my palms and fingers, lightly petting before folding our hands together. Tom stands, pulling me with him, and in the next instant, I’m enveloped in his arms.
“Are other vampires different after they wake up?” he asks into my hair.
Clutching the back of his shirt like it’s a lifeline, I shrug, “From what I understand, their emotions and senses are heightened. But, no, most everyone is still who they are after transitioning. At least, until the blood lust changes them.”
His hands smooth my hair, my sides, my back, and everywhere else he’s able to touch appropriately, “You’re going to wake up and still be you, Hope. Someone like you, someone with the strength and immovable character you’ve exhibited…that witch was speaking from fear.
“Fear of your power, but as you’ve already said, you were created by and for nature. I’m not sure how most from your world become vampires, but you are meant to be who you are. If your values and actions didn’t change after activating your werewolf side, then logic stands to reason that you will still be you after reaching your destiny.”
“But, you don’t know that. No one can promise me that. What if I wake up, and I’m evil? Truly evil?” I ask, not really looking for an answer. Voicing my worries helps, even if only a little.
His petting also helps to center me, to remind me that I’m here in the now instead of my seventeenth birthday. Tom’s scent surrounds me, so potent I can taste him on the air. After a few moments, my breathing calms, as does my heart. Eventually, we end up slowly swaying, him rocking our bodies to further comfort me.
“You won’t,” he softly declares. “Even if you do, I’ll be there with you, Hope. I’ll remind you who you are.”