IMMORTAL ( TOM RIDDLE )

CHAPTER I

1.

They met in Western Europe, shortly after the end of the Second World War.

For a short time, the glum mood and veil of despair seemed to have lifted away once the allies claimed victory. However, the small towns in Europe were still devastated. People were tired. She was tired when she met him.

For a long time, she would think that it was fate that brought them together, their destinies intertwining as spun silky thread. Or perhaps it was just some lucky chance. Two alike people in a foreign land, somehow both ending up in the small pub, it just seemed too perfect. He seemed too perfect as if he were a dream. For so long, she had pictured familiar scenarios in her mind. The daydream always started with a young man or woman rolling into town and sweeping her off her feet. Because what her heart had always secretly craved was romance, something still unfamiliar to her.

     And then she saw him.

     It had been a breath of fresh air, something new and exciting. It had been so long since she'd seen a boy like him, so charismatic and handsome and just a bit devilish. Catching sight of each other at the dingy bar, they seemed to naturally gravitate towards each other. The drink in her hand and his serious dark eyes made the most intoxicating combination. It didn't feel right to let him go home alone.

2.

     Clothes are scattered along the floor and her eyes search for them in the dark, trying to discern which articles of dress belong to her and which belong to him. Spotting the closest bundle, she barely makes it out as her blouse that had been so thoughtlessly tossed aside. When morning comes, she'll have to know where to find them in haste. It's too late now, too cold to try to venture out in the dark. Besides, Tom seems too reluctant to let her go so soon.

The lights have long since dimmed so she doesn't see his eyes narrow as he carefully watches her. Their meeting hadn't been a coincidence. Contrary to what she believes, it had all been by complete design. His lip curls in distaste at the childish notion of fate.

What she does see, when she turns her head to face him, is pale sinewy limbs stretched out across the mattress. With the tase of wine on his lips, he reminds her of the orgiastic Dionysus. Long expanses of smooth skin is laid out before her, and she can't help but reach out and touch. He is cool to the touch, thanks to the chilling night air. A trail of goosebumps follows her touch as her fingers brush against his chest.

He quickly smiles, though she can hardly see it, and tells her how beautiful she looks. Her cheeks darken and she basks in his praise. She never wants to leave. When he pulls her back to him, her eyes drift closed. She dreams of dark eyes and dazzling flashes of green.

3.

They meet again very soon after their first tryst. From the very first moment, she recognized something addictive in him, something alluring and dangerous. It's what brings her back again and again and again.

Because this intimidating, smoldering man makes her feel safe when they embrace in the quiet dark of his room. Any sense of danger is forgotten in these stolen moments. It's easy to forget herself, to let him consume her with wild abandon. He kisses her and steals the words from her mouth, replaces them with his own breath. Let him have all of her.

     "Marjorie."

     The sound of her name breaks the spell, just a bit, and she remembers to breathe in between kisses. He whispers it as he pulls her closer, closer. No, any danger is far away from them. He's good at this, at making her feel secure and wanted.

     Yet, fear makes her heart race even as heat coils in her belly and his arms twist around her.

     Fear because she can't help but wonder when he might leave, when he'll go back home to England. Fear because, in her life, nothing good lasts for long.

     4.

"What brought you here, Tom," she asks, standing in the mirror as she dresses. It's a curious thing that she still doesn't know very much about him. Whenever they do speak, it's usually about her. What is she passionate about? What are her ambitions and dreams? It's charming how interested he is.

But he's never been a very open person.

The use of his given name still makes his jaw clench and for a moment, he's quiet. The short silence goes unnoticed; her concentration is on fixing her jewelry. Standing up from the bed, he walks over to stand behind her and she feels the heat from him against her back. "I've been traveling since I finished school," he says softly. "How about you, pet?" His long fingers slowly zip up her skirt as she busies her hands with donning her earrings. He smooths the fabric down over his hips. It's his favorite article of clothing that she owns; the deep blue material swishes so prettily around her calves. How darling she always looks.

Tom had never been oblivious to beauty. It isn't something that he values much but sometimes he finds himself admiring those of the opposite sex or more likely judging them. They're usually always useless though, their beauty overshadowed by their simpering idiocy. Margaret is different; she may be annoyingly coy but she's also astoundingly smart.

"My father is an archaeologist," she says, after a moments hesitation. "We're here for work." Because there's no harm in telling him. All she wants is to be honest with him. But she didn't count on Tom being a great liar; he knows the signs of dishonesty. Quickly adjusting her blouse, she turns around in his arms and he sneaks one last kiss. He catches a glance of the two of them in the mirror, embracing and appearing as any passionate young couple would.

How wonderful. Yes, he is so very good at this. The girl is properly enamored with him.

5.

Marjorie would soon come to find that it really was all too good to be true.