the last verse ; harry potter [2]

vera's diary ; i

Vera Beauregard

If you're reading this, it means I'm gone. And, if you're reading this, it means Thomas has done the irreparable thing he had always yearned to do.

Before you go on, there are four things you must keep in mind as you read, and they are the following:

1. I am absolutely, unequivocally, undoubtedly mad.

2. I am absolutely, unequivocally, undoubtedly sane.

3. I am absolutely, unequivocally, undoubtedly in love with Thomas.

4. I am absolutely, unequivocally, undoubtedly ashamed that I could not stop him.

Thomas Marvolo Riddle, the youngest heir of Slytherin, was a complicated man. Cursed he was, born to a life so lonely and dark, forever the outcast in his Muggle orphanage, as was I. He was the outsider of outsiders; the loneliest child of lonely children. His existence was never easy, nor was it fulfilling, and from the day he was introduced to magic, he yearned for power he had never possessed.

I knew what he was like. The dark eyes and the dark hair, handsome yet secretive, smart yet pained. From our first year, I could see his dreams behind his eyes, locked behind iron doors and secured beneath stone shields, but I could see them: the glory of fame, intertwined with fire and rage and blood. I could see he dreamed to rule, to rid his world of inferiors, to rid his life of those who wronged him.

I saw it, but no one else seemed to.

We were the smartest. Pit against each other by teachers, forever racing a competition we did not enter. We were looked upon as the best of the newest generation, the ones who could fix the broken and build their empire to the highest form. Thomas' view of this was skewed: his empire, he always thought. Not ours.

Through years of torment at the hands of his cruel friends, always done while his back was turned, through The Unspeakable Moment that changed me over the summer between fourth and fifth year, I was battered and weakened. I had run my course, only at fifteen years old, already suffered more than anyone could have imagined. I had been violated, I had been hurt, and I had been hit and kicked and beaten. While Tom reveled in the thought of immortality, I did not. I could think of no greater punishment than to be forced to live forever.

(You don't know what the Unspeakable Moment was, and you should be grateful that you don't have to.)

But Thomas was Thomas, and I was weak. He was so handsome, so alluring, so smart and powerful that I could not help myself. From the day I saw him, he was always Thomas, someone whom it felt as if I'd known forever. Sometimes, he felt like someone I'd know for the forever that would still be unraveling.

I didn't know then, but I know now: from day one, I had inescapably intrigued Thomas while simultaneously being an enigma so unruly to him that he grew frustrated. He told me later on, in a quiet bedroom, that on the first feast of our first year, I had ignited something inside of him that he was unable to control. I was like a madness embedded deep in his brain, gnawing until I consumed him. He told me that he could never seem to ignore me, that he was always painfully aware of my presence that he often would leave the room.

I know now that that was fate. Of course, fate does not diminish our devotion, but it does explain the paradox of our lives, of his life, that grew to be so wonderful.

As much as I loved him, I was always so ashamed of what he did. I was weak and I will forever hate myself for it, but I couldn't help myself, and neither could he. But Thomas Riddle was starting something I didn't have the power to stop, and that will torment me as long as I shall live.

So, if you're reading this, it means I'm gone, but maybe not for long.

Come find me.