Tom Riddle One Shots

Hunger

 Golden drops of sun fall from the sky, getting caught in the bright clouds and scratchy tree branches. Her face feels numb as she stares up with her mouth agape, as if holding a walnut in her delicate jaw.

She can hardly see, the stream of sunlight pouring down on her catching her eyesight at blinding angles. Her eyes squint, the light in the corner of her vision still blurring her path to see the clouds. Hot air covers her skin, small hairs raised and wavering in the cool breeze.

A bird whistles from a tree nearby, its humming tune a pleasant addition to the melody of the small garden she has. She lifts her head up, folding her torso to rest back on her elbows. She squints even further, trying to make out where the bird is coming from.

The humming is cut off by a shrill squawk than a rustle of leaves. She watches, her expression saddened but not at all surprised, as the beautifully colored bird plunges to the ground, breathless life leaving it's meak body.

She rolls her eyes, lying back down on the itchy grass. The sun shines through her now closed eyes, the heavy footsteps of the all-too-familiar guard getting closer to her.

"Miss," the gruff Scottish accent booms, "You're wanted inside."

She cracks an eye open, the man, Rymer, poking his head into her view of the sky, his hand offered towards her. His youthful lips are tilted downwards as traitorous eyes crinkle with amusement.

She looks at Rymer for one more moment, analyzing how the wind tousles his peppered hair. He looks like a wizard, in her mind. Rymer's always been the perfect embodiment of a wizard to her. A magical being who curses her by putting her back into reality whenever she so desperately doesn't want to be. An evil wizard.

She exhales dramatically, taking his hand as he pulls her up. "Please tell them to stop shooting the birds in my garden."

Rymer gently pulls his hand away as she fixes her dress, brushing off the grass stains on the rosé color.

"I apologize, it's a safety hazard-"

"While you're at it, tell daddy he isn't as famous as he thinks he is," I begin to step through the garden, Rymer following me with long strides. 

"Miss-"

She walks away from him, through the red and white roses and through the daisies still blooming even though summer is around the corner. She sees the door to her room getting closer and sighs, accepting her fate. She'll get changed into an adorable dress and play innocent for the guests awaiting her downstairs. 

She opens the glass door to her room, the cool air sending her into a spiral. All the money in the world couldn't make this room less stuffy and prison-like. Rymer gently closes the door behind her, 

"Miss, please-"

It's too late. She sees him. 

His back is turned to her, tall, lean muscle forming the shape of a man. His hair is dark with slight curls, climbing towards his collar. 

She stands still, confused of why this strange man is in her room and self-conscious of the grass stains splattering her dress.

Rymer clears his throat, stepping slightly between them. "Miss, this is the Dark Lord. Lord Voldemort."

She can hear the slight waver in his voice and her interest can't help but pique. Dark Lord? How peculiar. She's never heard of such a thing. And Voldemort? What a pathetic name.

"You may leave us," the tall man hisses, never facing towards her. 

Rymer gives an awkward bow, opening the door to the hallway and exiting through in a swift motion. Silence overwhelms and she takes the chance to take a step closer.