"monsters don't make good pets."
in which tom riddle wishes to live forever and alice dannan tastes like immortality.
(tom riddle x fem!oc)
(extended summary inside)
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NOVEMBER, 1927 - SEPTEMBER, 1938
....NATURE OR NURTURE? Alice Dannan had thought long and hard about that idea ever since she had been old enough to comprehend it. She was desperate to know what had gone wrong in her upbringing to shape her in this way.
When she was small and she would sit upon her mothers lap and have red ribbons tied to the bottom of her pigtails, nurture had been the only thing she had known of yet.
Her mother was a force to be reckoned with, crimson lips, honey-brown locks and an impenetrable heart crafted from the strongest titanium.
Maeve Dannan's metal heart only had room for three loves in this life: Her daughters Alice and Jane, the temptation of power, and the downfall of foolish mortals.
For love was fickle when it stood alongside a dominion.
Their mother was the sweet kiss of death wrapped up in pretty packaging. Everyone had an expiration date, a point when they were no longer useful and when that time came, they were disposed of discreetly. A horrid trip down the stairs or an unfortunate heart attack at the dinner table was usually the verdict.
Maeve would weep and lament and play the poor bereaved widow while her Gringotts account received a large inheritance sum and she slipped a vial of poison back into her pocket.
Alice and Jane's fathers had met such a fate and several other husbands since. But the matriarch of the house stayed untraceable and innocent, as she hid her red hands behind her back.
The girls would stare up at her in wonder and swear to themselves that they would grow up to be just like their mummy.
That was already half the trouble.
When Alice had turned eleven years old, two of the most monumental pieces of information in her life were given to her. This was when nature came to be.
The first was a brown envelope with no return address and a red wax seal. Inside was a yellowed scrap of parchment with sworls of ink informing her of what she really was. Magic.
