We've all heard the story: conceived under the love potion, unable to love and all of that. But is it true? Did Voldemort really never had a heart, or perhaps it was simply frozen, inaccessible to use? Lights, camera, action! Dive into the 1940s, an...
This year, winter holidays passed by in a blink of an eye for Tom. On the morning of departure to King's Cross, he was content: these two weeks had been rather turbulent, but incredibly fruitful- he had made a lot of useful connections during the Malfoy ball and got a chance to spend all his days with Norma. Not to forget that the entire time he lived comfortably and securely, in the coziness of family- something he had never felt before. Christmas in the orphanage were bleak and only emphasized the hopelessness of orphans' lives. In Hogwarts he was happy, but the atmosphere there was artificially jolly- it was a school after all, and Tom did what he was supposed to do in school- studied. In Santa Monica, however, it was warm- both the weather and the mood in the home: the house was big and luxurious, so no one disturbed him and Norma. Tom also got a glimpse into the life of a public persona- Priscilla and John were often out of the house, and the holiday season was definitely a busy time for them. But Norma wasn't really preoccupied with anything, thus giving him her full attention.
At this very moment, Tom's and Norma's school trunks were already placed in the foyer, while they both made last rounds around the house, gathering their last items. At least that's what Norma was doing- Tom didn't own much and everything was already neatly packed, so he was wandering about without a purpose. At one point, he saw Norma in the living room and wanted to go to her, but Priscilla got to her first. Without thinking, he hid behind a wall and watched the two. He felt bad spying on his girlfriend, which was an unusual enough feeling, but he also couldn't explain to himself why he did it- they didn't carry any secrets since his confession during the Yule Ball, and he ought to trust Norma.
"Here's that photo I took before you and Tom went to the Ball," said Priscilla and gave Norma a small square of paper.
"Wow, they'd developed it so quickly?" asked Norma, taking the photograph.
"Being a world-famous actress has it's perks," Priscilla replied flatly, but didn't walk away. She stood stiffly, looking unsure. "His eyes are a little off, don't you think? In the photograph," Priscilla whispered, nodding at the photo. Tom clenched his jaw in anger. Priscilla rubbed her shoulders like she was feeling cold. "Even in the black-and-white picture, I think they are... red."
Tom focused on Norma. She had her head bent forward and hair had partially obscured her face, but Tom saw Norma's brows were furrowed and her eyes were full of concern while she studied the picture.
"You're seeing things," Norma shrugged casually and tucked the photo into the inner pocket of her school robes. Tom vaguely noted that Norma's gymslip wasn't in accordance with school rules: the waist was tightly tailored, and skirt started above the knees. But none of that mattered- Tom suspected Priscilla might cause trouble in the future: until now she liked him quite a lot, but he knew, that once people began to feel suspicious about him, that feeling only grew and never diminished- Dumbledore was an example.
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Tom and Norma had settled comfortably in the Hogwarts Express and were waiting for their friends to show up. Norma snuggled with her back to Tom's side, and he hugged her firmly around her shoulders.
