Tom gaped at the ceiling, even then after being sorted and he sat at his new table in the Great Hall, just as many other kids did. The cosmos winking at him and when a star dashed across he thought it would burn down the whole castle.
It was beautiful.
"Are you going to eat that?" Someone asked and Tom turned his dark eyes on the boy across from him, who'd also been sorted into Slytherin. Looking down at his untouched food, Tom shook his head. He was too overwhelmed to eat.
The boy with pale green eyes gladly took his plate, "thanks," he grinned and then held out his hand. "I'm Elio, by the way. Elio Rosier." Tom shook his hand, his expression thoughtful.
"And this idiot is Abraxas," he gestured to his friend next to him, his platinum blond hair glinting in the fire light. Abraxas smiled, "Abraxas Malfoy, you are?"
"Tom Riddle."
"I've never heard that name before, is it muggle?" Another boy asked, his skin tan and his mouth full. A girl with dark hair grimaced at him, "that's disgusting, Cain." He shrugged and shoveled more food into his mouth.
"I wouldn't bother Lolita, he's never had manners," the boy next to Tom said, his raven black hair wild as he gulped down pumpkin juice, the liquid dribbling down his chin. Lolita scoffed, "like you have manners, Pyrrhus."
Tom thought for a moment, that term had been used a lot around him. Muggle. It was tied to the ordinary, it was tied to his father. The man who abandoned him but left him his boring name.
He didn't want to be ordinary. He had read on the train about some magical families, and he recognized Malfoy being one of them. They were renown, respected. Important. That's what he wanted to be, and Tom knew now was finally his chance.
"No," he finally answered, his voice cool and steady making the kids around him gaze curiously. He carried himself as if he was much older, and if it weren't for the boyish blush in his cheeks he could probably pass for a third year. "It's a distant family name, there aren't many these days and my mum got married into another family." The lie slid easily from his tongue.
They nodded, not seeming to care, they were just curious. They were too young to have a concrete view point on families yet. A brunette girl turned to him, her eyes wide and lashes long, "well I like the name, I'm Olive." She grinned at him and he nodded in greeting before staring at the ceiling again.
He watched in fascinating as two stars started to race towards one another, destined to crash. His heart beat raced, anxious of what was about to happen. Hoping one of them would be smart and suddenly turn so they didn't collide.
But neither was turning, they were barreling towards one another at full speed, hell bent. Tom held his breath, closer and closer, brighter and brighter.
The ceiling erupted into a blinding white light as they collided, and gasps were heard all around, as if fate shook the castle's walls itself.
After a moment, the stars crossed each other's paths, the light fading and they went on their way. Never to meet again.
One afternoon, later in the term, Tom was sat in the courtyard against a tree and doing his homework when footsteps approached.
Looking up, it was a Hufflepuff girl with fiery red hair, he's seen her around school but he usually avoided her. She always said the most odd things. Odd people he didn't tend to keep in his company.
She just stared at him, she looked sad and he raised a brow at her expectantly. "Do you need something?" He said kindly, though annoyance was under laid in his tone. Tom had quickly learnt that if he wanted to make his way up in Hogwarts, being charming was the way to go about it.
"Would you like to hear a story?" Her voice was airy, he didn't like how she wasn't blinking.
Tom glanced around, not seeing any of his house mates and shrugged, seeing no harm as long as he wasn't actually seen with her.
The girl sat in front of him, crossing her legs and her gaze rooted him to the spot.
And she told him a tale, one that gripped attention, his chest tightening the same way those stars did his first night.
She told him the story of a boy destined for ruin and a girl destined for bloodshed. How they met beyond all circumstance. The girl seemed to drop out of the sky, only to tear down his world.
And she loved him, despite the fates.
"How sad," she continued, her voice far off, like an echo but it still rang loudly in his ears. "Two people meant for each other but cannot be one, and not for lack of love, no."
Her hands shot out, so quick Tom wasn't able to process it and she took hold of his hands, squeezing them to the point of where it hurt. He couldn't breathe.
"It's because of time. Why must fate commit such cruelty? Bringing people together only to tear them apart like a river, leaving them alone in the cold. But the boy tried, he did."
Tom's mouth was dry, his tongue feeling like sand as he pulled it from the roof of his mouth, "how?"
"He stumbled," her eyes were glazed over, she sounded breathless. "He stumbled again and again, falling on his knees again and again, cutting in deep and bleeding. Forgiveness is what he needed. For he did not know how to love."
Tom felt uncomfortable, but he couldn't move, he felt paralyzed. His hands going numb in her hold long ago.
"For a moment though all was well, the river dividing them froze over and they could meet again, they could touch. He could try again. But then tragedy struck..."
She stopped talking and Tom furrowed his brow, "what? What happened, tell me." He urged her, yanking her forward and his eyes were ablaze. He needed to know, it was like a beacon was going off inside him in yearning.
But she shook her head, "I can't." She observed him for a moment, as if he was a curious object she's never seen before, "it hasn't been finished yet."
~•~
"But in our story, who is the monster at the end of the book? Oh my love, the monster is time."
YOU ARE READING
Hierarchy of Need [t.r]
FanfictionBOOK ONE In the throes of the second wizarding war, Delilah Meddows is killed by no other than Lord Voldemort. However, instead of dying like she was supposed to, Delilah finds herself at Hogwarts in 1943. She tries to tread carefully, but Tom Riddl...