STARLIGHT ; TMR [discontinued]

o n e

Thick swirls of mist wrapped around my ankles like chains, and I made sure not to step in any puddles that may have been covered. Despite it being noon, no sunlight shone down at me, instead choosing to be covered by the bullet grey clouds. I noted the gravestones that were in line neatly, as if soldiers marching off to war. I recognized this place. This was the graveyard in which my parents were buried. Choking, I ran to where their graves were supposed to be located.

Key word: supposed.

Instead lay a woman, her skin a deathly pale blue, her dark hair framing her features as elegantly as possible. It looked like she had just died, her skin wasn't rotting and she didn't have maggots nipping away at her nose. It almost looked as if she was asleep. At first I thought it to be my mother, but I noticed the colour of the woman's eyes. Instead of a jade green, like my mothers have been, they were a mud brown.
Mud brown eyes. Eyes just like mine.

I screamed as I ran away, hair whipping my face. Yet no matter how far I ran, no matter how tired I got, I would always come around to my dead corpse.

The third round of running, and I had given up. Collapsing on the floor, I sobbed my heart out. I sobbed for my parent's, I sobbed for my self, I sobbed for my old life.

The life where I was care free. The life where my parent's were very much alive. The life I had before I met Tom Riddle.

Letting out a last hiccup, I noticed something in my corpses' hands that I hadn't noticed before. It was a letter, addressed to me. I scrunched my eyebrows in confusion. I was supposedly dead, and I'm sure people knew that considering the flowers surrounded my dead form.
I hesitantly plucked the letter from the strong grip, and opened it.

You won't be able to run. You won't be able to hide. I will always be there, and you will always be mine.

•

Gasping, I shot up from my laying form. Sweat ran down my back as I got up to take a shower. It was the same dream, I've had the same dream ever since I hurt Billy Stubs. Every detail would be the same, save for the time of day or small details. I had memorized that letter as if it were my own name. I had an idea of who the person that wrote the letter might be.

I sighed contently as the cold water enveloped my skin, washing the grime and dirt efficiently. Unlike others, I preferred cold showers, they woke me up for the day. I washed my sweat-coated face and exited the shower. Today was the first day of classes, my first day in sixth year.

Of course, just like every other day, I was the first to wake. I giggled as my best friend, Ivy, let out a small snore. Her wild curly hair was all over the place, and my OCD kicked in, making me want to braid it, or at least tame it.

Nonetheless, I got dressed and headed down to the common room. It was currently six am, and breakfast wouldn't start until eight. Biting my lip, I grabbed a random book of a table and plopped down on my favourite seat. It was right near the fire, providing warmth and light, and behind it was a large window, allowing a eerie green glow to illuminate everything around me. Plus it was just really comfortable.

The book I currently held was a book about the dark arts. I wasn't all that surprised, after all, this is the Slytherin house.

I cracked open to the page that must've been bookmarked by the previous reader. It was titled HORCRUXES and I noticed that not much was said. Only that it helps you achieve immortality. A small, handwritten note was sprawled near the top.

'Ask professor Slughorn.'

I glared down at the note, something about the handwriting seemed so hauntingly familiar. It was almost like the one in my dre-

"Verde." I shrieked, throwing the book across the room. Turning my head, I met the eyes of an all too familiar someone. "You know, it's impolite to go snooping in other people's business." Tom strode to the book and picked it up, handling it as if it was a baby.

"T-That's yours?" I squeaked. Of course it's his dummy! Who else would write 'ask Slughorn' other than Slughorn's favourite himself!

"Oh no, no no. You see, Verde," he said my name like it was poison to his mouth, "I'm holding this for a... friend." He smirked at me. I scoffed, since when did Tom Riddle have friends?

"Since when did you have friends?" I sneered. He seemed unaffected, an amused look in his eye as he stalked over to me, crouching down so he can look me in the eyes. I visibly gulped as he tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear.

He came close to my ear. So close, in fact, his lips grazed my earlobe. "Are we not friends, Ariel?" He pulled away and pulled a fake pout. "Last time I checked, we got along quite nicely back when we were kids."

"Last time I checked," I had to suppress a groan at his undeniably husky voice, "you dismissed our friendship once you came here. Now you just hang around your goonies."

"I never dismissed it. I merely..." He looked to be contemplating his answer. "I merely put it away to use for a better time."

With that, he walked away. And I just sat wondering.

That was the first time he talked to me in six years.

•

A / N - this chapter is dedicated to xxharoldsweewooxx for being the bestest!