Masquerade- Tom Riddle Fanfiction

Silver Stars

   "No," he replied coldly, "because I'm the only one who is going to get you inside, whether I have to drag you or torture you." His arms were suddenly around me; as the ground faded and I clung to him for fear of falling; his arms holding me securely to his chest. A wave of dizziness consumed me, my strength failing in my grief. I pushed against his chest, but he ignored me; turning back to the school as I tried to squirm. His arms only tightened around me, as he carried me down the stairs and what I recognized as the seventh floor. A door materialized. The Room of Requirement. He entered with me.

   I felt my body being placed on the couch, as the fire blazed in the hearth. A slight rustle of movement, as I stayed limply in my spot. I felt Tom sit beside me; waving his wand over me; the dampness vanishing. I was completely dry.

   A moment of prolonged silence. Neither of us moved.

    I spoke first, "Why?"

   He turned towards me. "I don't know," he said flatly, "but you are not helping anyone out there. You were only drowning in your own grief."

    "I want to die," I murmured, leaning my head against the couch, "I don't want to live anymore. Take this from me."

      He replied, "I can't kill you, Robins, you know that Dumbledore will find out."

   Something drove deeper into my heart. A logical reason. No sentiment attached. "I don't care," I said desperately, "I never wanted this pain. This is too much for me."

   "What is wrong with you?" Tom's voice sounded furious, "are you beaten so easily? Where is that defiance of yours?"

   "You know that was just a facade," I said, laughing in a hollow voice, "I was always broken inside, Riddle, you know that better than anyone."

   "No," he stated finally, "no, I didn't. I never did. And I am not going to believe you now. You wallow in self-pity like a fool, Robins, but you were never entirely broken. You are allowing yourself to be broken. How pathetic."

  That gave me the push. I looked up. "How would you know?" I croaked.

  He studied me, before deciding to answer, "When I killed my father--" he began slowly and coldly, "he told me, even as I had him under my mercy, that no matter what, he would never acknowledge me as his own son." I was silent. He continued in the same cold voice, "My mother died because he left her, and because he left me, I was left in that hell of an orphanage. I am ashamed to say that I acted exactly like you-- I cried, pathetically and weakly wrote in that diary, thinking that it would make all the bad things go away." His lips became grim, "--But do you know what I found out, Robins? Writing in a diary doesn't make the bruises never appear again; confessing secretly in a meaningless book doesn't make those taunts, those whispers, those voices stop. It certainly didn't prevent the other kids from beating me, and it certainly didn't bring my mother back to life. People die today, tomorrow, and a hundred years from now. Crying is a weakness, letting others see it is a weakness. Don't let the world own you, conquer the world and make everything on your terms. If life is hell, then give it hell back."

   I fidgeted silently, my hand unconsciously drawing towards his, before I felt him stiffen from the contact. He moved away. The world was so dizzying, so hurting, that it felt as if I was in a drunken stupor.

   "I don't want this," I whispered, "just tell me what there is between us; it is not helping anyone. I can't think about us on top of all this."

   "What are you doing?" he asked.

Silence.

Then

  "Giving you hell."

  He looked at me for a moment, then he sighed. Running his hand over his hair, he said, "It doesn't matter," he said, "none of this does. You know why we can never be together-- my followers will see it as a weakness. You will not be better off. Even if I wanted to--"

  "Do you want to?" I asked quietly, my emotions tangling together. Just one moment. Anything to distract me from the pain. I needed at least one truth to ground me to reality.

   "No," Tom Riddle finally replied coldly, his back turning towards me, facing the wall, "love is a weakness. I don't care about you, Robins."

   Loud silence. But it was never the end.

    He suddenly turned back and lunging towards me, I could feel his arms pulling me close, his hands tilting my face up so that I had a dizzying glimpse of his face. He didn't say anything, but closed the space between us; his lips conquering mine. For a moment, I felt fear in my veins as I struggled against his grip; trying to break free from his hold, but I felt myself weaken at his touch. Everything was a blur as I sank into his embrace.

  Our kiss was not violent or sensual; it was long and lingering-- his lips softly pressing into mine. Love--I craved and feared it, but I drowned myself in his touch; all thoughts fading from my mind. When we broke away, it was soft; the ghost of his mouth on mine still tingling in my body. His eyes stared into mine; they were not icy, but welled up in desperation. In that moment, I did not see the power hungry and manipulative boy with charm; I saw a weak boy seeking comfort; seeking the love when he was created from a loveless union. He was like a child asking for more; begging and pleading. In that moment, I did not see Lord Voldemort. I saw Tom Riddle.

Then, in a flash, the layer of steel appeared on his face, suffocating the boy back into his shell. It was eerily swift; the sudden change, and it frightened me. It was as if a completely different person was sitting in front of me. But in that moment, he revealed his true self-- he had revealed his weakness.

"How did it feel?" I asked, touching my lips dazedly. I was curious.

Tom breathed in a deep breath, as if trying to control everything inside of him. "It felt human," he said slowly, trying out those words. In that moment, Lord Voldemort was a human.

  I felt my heart beating faster as we both leaned closer; heat prickling between our two bodies. The whole world was churning and spinning too fast-- but he was the only still object. "And do you like feeling human?" I asked, feeling recklessness slaughtering my self preservation. His lips were inches from mine.

  

   His hand placed naturally on the side of my head; pulling me closer. His arms held me together. Those blue eyes were dark with new awakened emotion; dangerous but I could feel him losing his grip on reality as well. He replied slowly, "Only with you."

I didn't bother to see if he was telling the truth; I no longer cared-- I was just as desperate. We both closed the distance, my lips savoring the surprising softness of his without a thought of consequence. We were both entwined in our fantasies.

The backlash came much later.

*****
After 38 chapters, I finally did it
......
Let's do some Q and A.

Do you think Riddle loves Addie or is he just playing another game with her?

What is this backlash?

Be honest. Was the kiss everything you dreamed of and more or did I fail?

Finally-- What did you think overall?