The Fearsome Name of Riddle

Deep-seated Hate

A rich smell of old books filled the Hogwarts library. Aged leather and parchment spackled with dust, lining shelf upon shelf, row upon row. The leather armchairs creaked as students sat in them, falling silent again once they're settled.

His nose forever stuck in a book, Tom was researching again. The founders of Hogwarts and the myth of the chamber of secrets had consumed his mind for a long time. Far longer than he had known his lineage. Victoria had her feet resting on his knees as she read a similar book. All the Knights had vowed their help to learn all they could about the myth, but none of them held the obsession Riddle did.

"I've been debating on whether or not to go to Slughorn's Christmas party," Tom said, his eyes never leaving the page. "We still have a lot of work to do, I don't think we have the time. I think searching the castle may be our best bet at this point."

Used to a quick response, Tom lifted his head when Victoria didn't answer him. She wore a frown as she looked at him over the parchment in her hand.

"Did you want to go?" Tom asked, lowering his book as he tried to deconfigure her expression.

"You know I can't," Victoria said, a slight air of confusion in her tone, "I go home for Christmas every year."

"Right, of course," Tom nodded, instantly turning back to his book to try and hide his disappointment, "just me then."

"Some of the boys usually stay with you." Victoria moved her feet to sit forward. "Lestrange and I will be back as soon as we can anyway. I can look around the Malfoy library for anything new, the old families keep a lot of secrets. It's only two weeks, you know how my father is."

"No, I know," Tom nodded, taking her hand as she reached over to him, "I just forgot that's all. It just might take a little longer then."

"That's alright," Victoria smiled, brushing her thumb over his knuckles, "we have two more years after this one. And if we rush into it, we'll all get caught and the mudbloods will stay clinging to the gutters here. Not to mention there are more and more purist halfbloods everywhere."

Tom glanced up at her nervously as she sat back in her chair, playing with his hand as she spoke.

"Honestly, what could bring a wizard to do that? I think if I touched a muggle I'd need to bath for a week, it makes me sick thinking about doing that with one," she continued, laying her head back as she looked up at the library ceiling, "the women I suppose I could understand, men of all kinds can be vile."

Tom held silent as she went on rambling about the hatred he'd heard her spout a million times.

"I would kill the baby though,” Victoria sighed, watching her own hands as she played with his fingers, "I wouldn't want that kind of thing around me. A constant reminder and you know that it's got filth in its veins. Running around like a parasite and you have to pretend to love it."

"And what if the woman died?" Tom asked, avoiding her eyes as she looked up at him, "before she could get rid of the baby. What should be done about the child then?"

"What's wrong?" Victoria frowned, thinking about what he had told her about his life, "Merope Gaunt was madwoman but she was a purist. The Gaunts, like some others, see an ounce of muggle blood and scream halfblood. The Malfoys aren't like that, we value a strong gene pool too much. Two magical parents is as thin as we'll go.”

"How considerate," he muttered, pulling his book up to hide his face more as he faked reading the pages.

"What did you find out, Tom?" Victoria demanded, letting go of his hand and sitting back. “Tell me.”

"My father," Tom explained, putting his book down slowly, "he was… I'm a… he was a muggle. Only one pureblooded witch for me. It seems I don't meet your benevolently lenient guidelines. This year I will prove myself Slytherin's true heir. You'll see."

The look of disgust on her face sent shivers through him, she had never looked at him like that before. He had seen it directed at others, but as those icy cold eyes stared right at him it was as though he was seeing her in a new light.

"I killed the bastard, him and his muggle parents," he hissed, anger rising in his chest as she looked down on him, "I'm still the heir, that doesn't change. If anything pure blood like that would burn his filth from me anyway."

"Right," Victoria's voice was distant as she watched him, letting the revelation stew in her mind.

"Victoria," he stressed, grabbing hold of her hand as she stood from her seat.

"I have to get ready, I'm leaving tomorrow," she told him, pulling her hand away from him but he just held on until his grip began to hurt, "it's fine. I'm just busy right now."

Her hand slipped from his fingers and Victoria Malfoy turned without another word. That pure blonde hair whipped off her shoulder and left Tom with nothing but shaking hands and a cold sweat.

#####

The discomfort in his shoulders made Tom feel like everyone at the Hogsmeade train station was staring at him. His anger boiled under his skin as his hands dug deep into his pockets. The cold winter wind cut at his face as he waited for Victoria on the platform. He hated the uncertainty of it. She hadn't spoken to him since the library.

"Look sharp, Tom," the voice of Obsidian Lestrange turned his head quickly. "Don't be so down, it's only two weeks and you'll be having more fun than us anyway. Believe me, you don't want to come to a Malfoy Christmas party. Don't tell Victoria, but they're really boring."

Tom only glared up at the tall boy. His curly, black hair was combed to appear as neat as he could make it despite the wind's determination to blow it out of place.

"She told me what happened in the library." Obsidian sighed, giving up on trying to distract him and turning to face the train pulling into the station. "Don't worry, I'll keep your secrets, but I don't think she's angry with you, just a little conflicted. Victoria will come around eventually. A lot of the things she says about mudbloods are her father's words not hers. I'll keep talking to her, don't worry."

"And what about you? You don't have a problem with it?" Tom asked, a little nervousness in his voice like everything he had built could fall out from under him at any moment.

"I mean what does it really change," Obsidian shrugged, "you're still the heir, no matter who your mother bewitched to make you. You're still achieving some of the most powerful pieces of magic in the world at the age of fifteen. You're a powerful wizard, Tom, and a strong, ambitious man. Half your blood came from a muggle, but who you are is completely your mother's line."

"You're a good man, Obsidian," Tom smiled softly as he hunched his shoulders, looking down at the floor.

"Just don't forget me when you change the world," Obsidian beamed as he moved to walk to the train, watching Victoria come through the stone arch. "Keep me on your right."

"You're not trying to steal my sweetheart, are you Lestrange?" Victoria smirked, wrapped up in a black coat and dark green scarf and gloves.

"He would never succeed," Tom said, gaining her attention as she turned her head towards him.

"It's good to see you," she smiled softly, handing her trunk to Obsidian who just rolled his eyes and placed it on top of his own. "I'd hate to leave on bad terms."

"It's not important," Tom shook his head, not sure if he should reach out for her so he kept his hands in his pockets, "have fun with your family. I'll get everything ready for when you both come back."

"I'll see you then," Victoria nodded graciously, killing Tom a little inside. Polite but not familiar.

"And I you."