Perception A Tom Marvolo Riddle Fanfiction completed

Chapter One - Regrets

Author's note:

This is the sequel to my story "Poison". I guess it's necessary to have read "Poison" for "Perception" to make sense, so please feel invited to read "Poison" first if you haven't done so yet :-)

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15 years later

Tom was standing in the living room of Malfoy Manor and was looking out of the window. He had just ended a meeting with his Death Eaters. The news concerning the prophecy about the one person that would be able to vanquish him had been alarming. Bellatrix was still hovering in the room trying to gain his attention and wanting to comfort him. Tom sneered. She definitely was his most loyal servant but she would never learn to see his true self. She would never learn that he didn't need to be comforted, that he didn't want to be comforted. It was times like these that he wished he had had better control of his temper that fateful night fifteen years ago. The inexplicably strange force that had joined his magic back then had never subsided. It was constantly with him, constantly fuelling him but, unfortunately, also constantly reminding him of the way he had deliberately destroyed what he had originally come to preserve. He snorted, thinking about the irony of that night. He had come to prevent her death and in the end it had been he himself who had taken her life, the one life that had ever been special to him. No one had ever been like her again. Even after he had finally left the shadows and had started to openly show the darkness that reigned inside of him, no one saw him the way she had seen him. No one had ever been faithful to him the way she had been. She had known about his darkness and still she had truly cared for him. His Death Eaters knew about his darkness but they didn't care for him, they simply feared him. And even Bellatrix wasn't the same. She had an insane idea of love and only lived to serve him. He cruelly dominated her and she desperately craved that.

Tom had tried to forget what had happened, had tried to discard it as negligible but the force that was constantly running through his veins seemed determined to prevent that from ever happening, mocking his inability to save what he had only ever truly cared for.

Tom exhaled sharply. He tried to imagine what she would have thought about the prophecy. She had always been so sensible. She would have discussed the prophecy's meaning with him until things would have made sense. The prophecy was concerning his downfall. This was important. He had to make sure he made the right decision.

Bellatrix was still pacing behind him. He suddenly turned around and hissed, "Stop moving."

Bellatrix instantly halted. "Of course, my lord, just as you wish, my lord."

Tom sneered at her. She was standing there, not daring to move an inch. He felt satisfaction wash over him. He drew his wand and brandished it slightly, hissing, "Crucio". He watched her pain emotionlessly. He was torturing her just for his pleasure and yet somewhere deep inside he knew that her tormented screams somehow eased his own pain. When he finally lifted the curse, Bellatrix crawled towards him on her knees, bowing to him. Tom suppressed a contemptuous smirk. She would even thank him for torturing her. She was just as pathetic as all the others.

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That night Tom decided to visit the place he had once created when he had returned to England shortly after graduation, the place where he had spent so many hours with her. She had called it his lair and, actually, he couldn't think of a more accurate word to describe it. The loud crack of his Apparition tore the silence that had graced the place for more than two decades. Everything still looked the same as when he had left it the night after he had murdered Hepzibah Smith. He had never returned. Tonight, however, he finally wanted to be there again. He sat by the fireside and lit the fire with a flick of his wand. His gaze fell on the empty parchment that lay on the table in front of him. He took it and turned it with his long pale fingers. He could still smell her blood. If only he could talk to her about the prophecy. If only she would be somewhere around. Unfortunately, apparently her soul had left this world. He snorted. Of course he had done this just as perfectly as everything else. He felt his temper flare. Why ever had she provoked him so much? She should have known his temper. She should have known he would curse her. She should have known better. Tom exhaled sharply, realization finally dawning on him. He narrowed his eyes. Of course she had known he would curse her. She had probably even counted on it. Tom clenched his fist, crumpling the parchment in his hand. She had been ready to die either way that night but this way she had finally succeeded in making him realize...their connection.