The Dark Lords Daughter

Secret Identity

"Perfect," I said as I checked myself out in the mirror.

Being the daughter of the famous Tom Riddle, AKA Voldemort, I had the ability to change my appearance at will, which came in handy a lot, such as this night.

My curly red hair straightened and turned black, my green eyes blinked into ice blue, and my height grew a few inches. My facial features slightly transfigured, but still leaving me beautiful. Once being twenty, I now looked twenty-five. Even though I didn't have to change my looks since I was of age to do as I pleased, I still liked to be cautious when out in public. Given my genetics, it wouldn't be wise of me to be careless, such as drinking at a scummy bar without a disguise.

It was eight and I felt it best to escape the emptiness of my home, provided by Dumbledore, and apparated to my favorite bar in Hogsmeade. Even though Voldemort was dead, the stress of the past twenty years ate me alive, and I enjoyed drinking it away during the summers before school started. Yes, I was twenty and still in school thanks to my messed up life. I endured a good amount of abuse growing up, mostly by Death Eaters, but Dumbledore rescued me with the help of a house elf, Dobby, and cared for me up until he died. Because Voldemort was still alive, the professors at Hogwarts would owl my school work to me at home. However, once he was defeated, I was able to finish out my last years in-person. It was such a relief not being trapped in a house all day, every day.

Being the last night of freedom before I have to head to Hogwarts for the upcoming school year, thankfully my last, I thought there was no better way to celebrate the end of the summer than with a few drinks. You could say I used alcohol to numb my pain, but I had many admirers who loved buying my drinks. It only took me an hour tonight to get drunk when a man took a seat next to me. He looked oddly familiar, but I was too gone by this point to place a name to that mysterious face.

His black hair draped over the sides of his face as he spoke, "you look out of place."

"Me? Oh, I come here loads of times." I slurred.

I noticed him study me as he took half his glass down in one gulp, "you seem familiar. Are you, perhaps, a former student of Hogwarts?"

"Slytherin!" I proudly claimed and slammed the rest of my current glass.

"Dare I ask your name, miss...?"

I was about to answer when a man, similar in age to the one talking to me, jumps to my other side, "would you like another round? Or maybe you'd like to come with me for a little fun?"

"Uh, sir. That's highly rude to interrupt mine and this gentleman's conversation," the black haired man snorted, "on the other hand, I am in no mood to sleep with a random stranger."

He slid his arm around my waist and said, "I'm sure I can change your mind."

"Excuse me, but I believe she declined your offer." The other one stood up and took my hand, leading me upstairs to the rental rooms, "no, I don't plan on taking advantage of you if that is what you were worried about."

"Glad you answered that, but why you want to help me and get nothin' in return?" I stumbled behind him, his long strides were almost impossible to keep up with in my state.

"Not only are you a former student, but you're a woman... And drunk, as well. I may be seen as an arse to many, but even I have morals." We entered a room and we sat on the couch before he stated, "however, I do not believe a witch such as yourself belongs in a place like this."

"Keeps stress down. Had a rough childhood and can't seem to get rid of the gnawing pain. Gods, what he'd think..." I shook my dizzy head in my hands.

"Your boyfriend?" He noticed I didn't wear a ring. I laughed lightly, "no, past professor... If he saw me like this, I'd get my arse reamed with a lecture 'bout how 'I must have it so rough' or 'how he wish I'd take his place for a day and see how much I complain after that'." I mimicked in my Potions Masters tone, leaving the stranger silent.

He cleared his throat before replying, "and why would you care what your old professor would say?"

"Always take advice from perfection," I stared at him with slightly blurred vision, not being able to tell if it was the alcohol or tears.

To my surprise, the man wiped my cheek, confirming it was tears, which made me lean in slowly, stopping just as my lips brushed his. I really didn't want to be that desperate drunk woman that pathetically begs for attention, so I controlled the urge to completely fall into him. I wanted him to kiss me, and to my surprise, he did.

All too soon did he break away and walk towards the kitchen, grabbing some fire whiskey for us and continued talking as if it never happened. I wanted to press the matter further, but I figured that spending the night talking with him was better than nothing. Eventually, much to my dislike, my memory cut out.