Never More Alike |T.M.R.
- Reads 63
- Votes 8
- Parts 2
MatureOngoing51m
Last published Tue, Jul 4, 2023
This is not a Tom Riddle love story.
-----*◇*-----
Six feet under the ground, a beautiful young woman lay. Her skin was pale, almost as if she were a ghost. But that wasn't something you'd notice at first. The first thing you'd notice was her hair. It filled every inch of the wooden casket she lay in. She'd been underground for nearly fifty years. Presumed dead.
Nothing about her aged beside her hair. It was a dark brown, almost black. You couldn't tell just yet, but her hair was as straight as a board.
Suddenly there was a sharp take of breath and her eyes snapped open. It was dark and you couldn't tell, but her face had a terrified look. Pure horror.
In a matter of seconds that horrid turned into anger. Pure anger.
She shifted her hands so they were splayed out on the lid of the casket. And with a harsh push, the casket rose from the ground and landed on the grass with a loud thud.
----
All rights of the storyline, characters, and related from the Harry Potter franchise go to the legal owner.
Any storyline, characters, and related that don't belong to the Harry Potter franchise are mine, and mine alone. If not I will give credit where it is needed.
*began June 2023
All Rights Reserved
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"In the depths where shadows weave their eternal dance, the princess of darkness and Tom Riddle found themselves entwined by a cruel fate, neither summoned nor asked for. She, a spectre clad in night's own veil, and he, the whispered name that dripped like venom through the corridors of power, two souls bound by a darkness older than time. Their hearts, though walled with ice and guarded by thorns, began to bleed with a strange, unwilling yearning. It was a love born not of light, but of shadow's cold embrace. A union forged in whispered curses and silent despair. Together, they were a storm, beautiful, terrible, and uncontrollable, caught in a dance neither wished to lead, yet neither could escape." *** Does the princess of darkness truly knows the blood-soaked fate that lies ahead of her? Or perhaps... she knows it all too well. Savouring every drop that is spilled before her, like wine from a silver chalice. And the orphan, poor, forgotten soul, shall he ever uncover the shadow who haunts his path? The one who disturbs not only his schemes, but the very fabric of his thoughts? Even though wickedness runs through both their veins, an inheritance neither of them asked for, it binds them not in unity, but in quiet war. What should have made them allies has birthed only rivalry. A battle of the blade and shadow. Of silence and survival. Kill, or be killed. But the question remains... Who shall strike the final curse?
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