Disclaimer: Due to plot reasons, there are many elements of Tom Riddle's backstory different from J.K. Rowling's original.
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Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody.
-Mark Twain
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Let us go back in time.
The year was 1925.
A cloaked figure walks into the busy Lion's Pub on the corner of Winfield street. He sits down by the bar, and grunts gruffly for the barmaid to come over. She rolls her pretty green eyes and reluctantly walks over to the strange man.
He admired her plump, blooming figure. He enjoyed the way the space between the buttons at her cleavage was popped open. He stared at that tiny, fleshy window of her red chest.
"What can I get ya, sir." It was not a question. It was a statement.
He had expected the vulgarity of her voice, much different from the dainty ones he was accustomed to.
"Just a whiskey."
"Jus' a moment." She replied routinely. Before she left, he grabbed her arm.
"Come sit with me, will you? Come and talk to a lonely man on this lonely night." He said, taking off the hood of his cloak to reveal the handsome, sharp-featured face of a man in his late-twenties.
She examined the stranger's face, one much more handsome than she expected.
"Alright." She smiled, grabbing his whiskey and setting it down in front of him. She looked at him, then at the whiskey. Something about him made the butterflies in her stomach flutter. She felt a warm, pleasant tingle when his hand brushed hers. She blushed. She hoped he would not notice it in the dim light. She hoped he would not see that she was only a girl of sixteen.
"What's your name?" He asked.
"Molly. Molly Riddle." She told him. He grabbed her hand.
"What a beautiful name, Riddle."
She giggles, blushing. She sees the gold and emerald ring on his finger, and gasps slightly. She had never seen a ring like that. It was the ring of Salazar Slytherin, Delacrioux's famed ancestor.
"You like this ring?" He asks, as if reading her thoughts.
"The stone's awfully big. It's a fake, ain't it?"
"All real, darling." he whispered.
She did not believe him.
"Prove it to me." She told him.
"Come with me and I will." he demanded.
She felt a little scared. After all, she was a girl of only sixteen and he was a stranger. But at the same time, she wanted to go with him so badly. There was an inexplicable, almost magical charm about him. She wanted to take his hand. She wanted to feel his touch. Feel the tip of his tongue against hers.
"Alright. But we gotta be back in an hour. Other wise the innkeeper'll fire me."
"Don't worry about it, love." He said, caressing her cheek gently, comforting her, assuring her it was perfectly safe to go with him. It was as if he understood that she was only a scared girl of just sixteen.
She went with Marvolo Delacrioux. Walking with him was the most exhilarating experience. He turned through tunnels, moved corners through walls, and finally arrived in front of a luxury apartment downtown London. She gaped at the building. She had admired it from far away on her walk home from the pub, but has never seen this side of town in such close proximity. It was a whole different world from her own. The gilded lights, embellished marble, the beautiful people....it was a world apart from the crowded London slums and the tiny, flea-infested apartment she was used to.
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Not About Angels (A Tom Riddle Story)
FanfictionShe was the secret he would never tell. Since childhood, he had a plan for world domination, yet, she stumbled across his path as the unexpected variable that he had never previously considered. She awakened the part of him that he never even reali...
