"He wears the smell of blood and death like a perfume, there is fire in his eyes and ice in his veins, but you love him anyway. For he is a star, burning with the light of a thousand suns and your world is dark without him..."
October 31st, 1981, Godric's Hollow.
That was when and where it all ended. The town was full of laughter and good cheer, despite the looming chill of an autumn night. Kids were wandering the streets unsupervised, wearing their silly costumes, and carrying around plastic jack-o-lantern pails. They were blissfully unaware that danger was approaching from the darkness of the night and that the whole world was about to change forever. Along the outskirts of town, a tall, cloaked figure was slowly sweeping its way through the forest of trees. His pace was far too leisurely. Now, he could have flown himself directly to the residence he sought and made a dramatic, over-the-top entrance, but where was the fun in that? There was no need to be such a drama queen on such a glorious evening. The sudden appearance of Lord Voldemort invading your supposedly safeguarded home would cause fear and surprise, no matter what type of entrance he made. He had almost arrived in the town of Godric's Hollow. Almost to Lily Potter and the boy, almost to victory. He would finally be able to kill the only thing with the power to stop him, thanks to Wormtail's foolishness and betrayal. If Peter were still alive, he'd certainly be ashamed that his son sold out his best friends out of nothing but fear. Meanwhile, Ellyn would forever have to live with the shame of having raised such a traitorous and cowardly son. Voldemort had made the right decision only killing one of them. It was much more satisfying of an arrangement.
Suddenly, there was a rustling of leaves and a great unnatural gust of wind that swept the night air. Voldemort's attention was drawn instantly to a nearby tree. Something had arrived on the wind. There was another cloaked figure peering out at him from behind it, as if they actually thought that would be a sufficient hiding place. He couldn't see the figure's face, since it was dark, and he was only using his peripheries to sneak a glance. Voldemort still knew exactly who it was though. Another twenty-five years had passed between them and finally she was intending on revealing herself to him, to stop hiding behind Dumbledore like some perpetuate child. He didn't think this day would ever come. A day she showed herself of her own free will was not a conceivable thought after all she had allowed to happen. Most of her precious Gryffindor friends were now dead by his hand and not once did she come to stop him from killing them. He knew how strong-willed she was, but friendship was an obvious weak point in her character and, if he wanted to get her attention, he'd abuse the hell out of that weakness. However, Frankie hadn't let her weakness overcome her and she'd allowed them all to fall. This naturally hadn't been Voldemort's intent, but he couldn't help but be impressed by her resolve. He still considered her a strong witch and the only one he found worthy to stay by his side, however, he was growing sick and tired of waiting for her to come around of her own accord.
But, everything was different now that she was here in the flesh. Tonight, Voldemort planned on getting everything he wanted. Finally, he would have the perfect life that he deserved. Ultimate power, the Potter boy dead, victory in this war, true immortality, and her. She seemed a pitiful prize compared to all the rest, but he felt obligated to Tom to always keep Frankie in his desires no matter how much time passed between them.
"You can't hide from me. I told you that before." he stated, in her direction, removing the hood of his own cloak. He was one thing, but did she really foolishly thinking a mere cloak and a tree were enough to conceal her presence from him? Although, something told him she wasn't actually trying to hide from him for once. She had wanted to be seen. She'd put on the spectacle only for him. Frankie stepped forward, removing the hood of her cloak to reveal her long hazel hair and stolen face filled with an abnormal youth. It was just like he had heard. Not a grey hair to be seen, or wrinkle upon her cheeks. She looked exactly like the girl in his memories. The girl he had fallen pitifully in love with. However, he would not dare let that sway him, like it did last time.
"Really? I think I've been doing a good job of it the past twenty-five years." she replied, dryly and a bit sarcastic. He laughed a little at the fact that she had finally learned how to use sarcasm properly in his absence.
"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be helplessly watching me kill your friends from that well-fortified castle of yours?—Oh wait. It would appear you don't have any left..."
He thought that would sting Frankie at least a little bit. Oh how sweet it would've been if she shed a few tears. However, her expression did not falter.
"I know that Wormtail let Lily and James's location slip. I've come to stop you," Frankie replied, raising her wand at him, for the first time in several years. Meanwhile, Voldemort stood there, actually somewhat surprised, and it was not because she was poised to attack him. It was the information she had. It was recent and between a certain number of people and himself. He didn't have the time to worry about a possible rat right now. There were far more important things he had to deal with, like the fact that the entire Order of the Phoenix could come popping in around them at any moment. However, the night remained for the most part silent of any unnatural noises. If she had really told the Order, they would all be here to try and stop him by now. Perhaps, she thought she could handle this alone. A rather misguided thought. The age may not be affecting her appearance, but it sure was affecting her sanity. "I'd do anything to protect Harry, even if it means facing you again."
"Your words wound me, my clever girl," Voldemort fake-pouted, clutching the spot where his heart would be, if he still really had one. He stopped the slightly mocking gesture, and, in one giant step, he was only mere inches from her. Frankie unconsciously lowered her wand as he approached. However, she did not flinch at his distorted face that had struck fear in so many others, as it drew closer to her own. He gazed into her eyes, hoping she would show him an expression other than pure and utter loathing, "Why do you always insist on defying me? What did I ever do to you, except worship the ground you walked on?"
"You're an absolute monster." she replied, simply and bitterly, a small crack in her voice. "I was made to fight against people like you. It's in my blood."
"Most people don't think I'm a monster though. For instance, Bellatrix Lestrange. I think she's rather fond of this version of me—unlike you," he reasoned, even though he knew that it was the truth. He was a monster. Truthfully, he didn't even look at Bellatrix as a woman and it wasn't just because she was married. Her school girl crush was nothing new, considering he'd dealt with plenty through most of his years at Hogwarts. It was actually the most pathetic part about her, in his opinion. He just wanted to mention his most loyal follower's obvious affections for him to see how she'd react. A woman who accepted this version of him would certainly make Frankie guilty, if not a little jealous. Her face had slightly flinched at the mention of Bellatrix's name and his curled up with a taut, wicked smile, knowing the infinitesimal motion meant he was successful. "Jealous, much?"
"In your dreams. I would rather rot then lay with a horrible creature like you ever again." Frankie spat back at him, rather defensively. Her words would've probably somewhat stung if he could still feel properly. However, he stared at her impassive and unemotional.
"Come now, my dear. You keep saying mean things like that I might be forced to break you even more," Voldemort scoffed, "I've been generous up till now, but I can be cruel. Now, tell me—how much further are you willing to go?"
"Your threats do not frighten me in the slightest, Tom."
His emotionless expression faltered quickly at the call of his real name. It'd been years since someone had called him that to his face. Probably around twenty-five considering he hadn't seen either Frankie or Dumbledore after that night in fifty-six' and they were the only ones who still dared to refer to him by that dreadfully common old name of his.
"I see that both you and Dumbledore still insist on calling me that, even though you claim that's not who I am anymore." Voldemort sneered, yet he still somehow managed to keep a relatively calm tone of voice.
"He told me that it infuriated you and I wish to make you angry." Frankie added.
"And what will that accomplish, clever girl?" he asked. Her expression remained strong and resolute, but she didn't answer him. "Do you really think that, just by getting me angry, I'll start treating you like everyone else and try to kill you?"
"That was what I was hoping for." she replied. There was conviction in her eyes. He accidentally got caught up in that look of strong will and determination. He'd fallen prey to that look countless times over their many years together and even now it was fatal. "Kill me...If you think you can, Tom Riddle..."
"If that is what you really wish, I of course will humor you." He bowed to her, signifying that he would honor her wishes and fight nobly against her. Frankie returned with a simple curtsy, out of respect and tradition. They had not dueled properly since that little tournament in first year, but Voldemort felt a familiar rush course through him. He couldn't help but feel a heightened excitement at the prospect of seeing what powers she'd been developing behind closed doors. Then, they both raised their wands and promptly begun.
Although, both worked quickly on their feet, Voldemort was the first one to get a spell out. With a quick movement of his wand, he easily tossed a flurry of red sparks at her. However, she managed to quickly produce a shield charm and the sparks merely faded away as they hit. She returned with a giant fireball, which he extinguished just as quickly. He was faster than she was. Which unfortunately was an extreme advantage. In the second she had to think about the next move, Voldemort had already cast his. Suddenly, the earth tumbled around her, sending bullet-like rocks towards her face. However, before they were able to do much harm, Frankie had lost her footing and slid down the slight slope of the forest. She fell into a slight shallow hole that had been hidden at the bottom and the leaves and sticks that had covered it showered over her. Odds are that it was probably a Halloween trick that had been left for some poor unsuspecting kid. In the momentary blunder, that had not really been her fault, she could hear Voldemort snickering at her.
"You've got to finish what you've begun, clever girl. I'm waiting for you."
Frankie pulled herself out of the shallow hole, at the implication that she was running away from this battle. Her face was contorted with fury. She glared at Voldemort and hastily hit him with a hex in that second he allowed himself to be distracted. He tried to block it, but he wasn't fast enough this time, and the spell surrounded him in a greenish vapor. Suddenly, his back became stuck to the nearest tree and the vapor formed a slithering snake over him, restraining him there. You'd think he would be finally properly angry at her for being able to immobilize him, struggling and hissing at her to let him go. However, Voldemort made no struggling efforts to escape.
"You aren't horrible." he stated, simply. It was supposed to be a compliment, despite the comment's seemingly cold and unfeeling nature. It was a compliment she might've found slightly charming and endearing if he were still Tom. He rarely ever gave out compliments. However, Frankie stayed straight-faced and serious. She couldn't let anything he did or say distress her. Voldemort sighed at her continued resilience and, although he had generously complimented her handiwork, it really only took one hiss and the snake released him immediately. Frankie's expression changed from serious to slightly bewildered. Since when was he a Parselmouth? Being able to talk to snakes was a power you were born with; it wasn't just something you could learn to do because you had a creepy snake obsession. Which meant, that this was something that Tom had kept from her. Even though it wasn't something that concerned her in any way, she thought he would've bothered to tell her he had such a special power. It was another lie, another secret he'd kept.
"Well, I wasn't exactly sitting on my arse doing nothing while I was hiding away." she replied, trying to act slightly smug. However, truthfully, she was amazed and intrigued by the sudden appearance of this special ability he had. A part of her wanted to question him and know all about it. Another part of her was furious and wanted to shout at him.
"I didn't expect so," Voldemort remarked. "But surely you can't keep up with me forever. Remember—according to your precious prophecy—only the Potter boy is destined to have the power to kill me."
"Harry...His name is Harry," Frankie stated. Her voice was brittle, yet still managed to be strong and clear. Voldemort was actually listening, maybe even a bit mesmerized. This was different than the fake front of blind hatred she had been putting up so far. It was real. Which made him scowl because it was that boy she truly cared about. She was really only here because she cared about that boy and would do anything to protect him, "You should remember his name, Tom, because one day he will be the one to stop you."
"Putting your faith in the hands of a child—that's rich," he scoffed, cruelly. It was honestly so stupid to care about a boy who was not her son. A foolish little child that was to be dead within the hour. What did she expect the one-year-old to kill him when she failed? It was a ridiculous notion. "Come now, I thought you were here wishing to save me too."
"I've wished for a lot of things in my life, but it doesn't mean that I'm going to get any of them. We both know you can't just magically go back to being Tom Riddle—"
"Oh, but I can." Voldemort interrupted, with a knowing smile. It wasn't like he wished to change back to how he used to be, but rest assured he could if he wanted too. Voldemort was the most powerful wizard in the world, there was hardly anything he could not do. Nowadays, he had the power to change his appearance at the drop of a hat. He waved his wand upon himself, and his red piercing eyes grew dark and cold again. His dark hair grew neatly back into place and his flesh regained the little color it once had, so he was no longer a sickly ghostly white, but his normal pale palette. Tom Riddle was back. In appearance only, though, "Indulge me. I wanted to hear your adorable little speech to try and win me back. Also, every second you keep me here is a second I'm not killing the Potters. So, if I were you, I'd just do it and get it over with."
"Change back." Frankie stated, despite his demands. Her voice was wobbly and quivering in fear. She slowly backed away from him, obviously more frightened then she was of Voldemort, was the clear evidence that he was actually once Tom Riddle.
"Why? I thought you wanted me like this," Tom questioned, drawing closer to her as she kept backing away. Finally, he was getting a pleasant reaction out of her. He wasn't quite sure why his younger self fought so hard to make sure she was never afraid. She was cuter when she was truly, utterly terrified. "Such a superficial girl. I mean, really, all you ever cared about was my looks. What an awful sort of person. I suppose that's why I fell for you..."
"You know that's not what this is about."
"How about a dance, then?—Imperio!" Suddenly, before she could even comprehend the fact, he used one of the Unforgivable Curses so nonchalantly, she became limp and dropped her wand to the ground. He recovered the remaining distance between them and pulled her into a waltz. Frankie tried to escaped, but her feet moved of their own accord. He looked down at her helpless steps and laughed, "Promise to step on my foot?"
"Let me go." she hissed; with the little resilience she had left. She would stomp on his feet with all her might, if only she could control her own. Frankie felt unexpectedly dizzy, wanting nothing more than to just drop dead to the ground, but another part of her wanted to continue dancing with him. A little cloudy voice in her head was telling her to give up. He loves you. Just give up. She kept trying to convince herself that it was only a trick, but in all honesty, it was starting to feel a little like a dream. A really good dream that she didn't want to wake up from. Another minute of bliss couldn't possibly be so bad.
"Not till you admit how you really feel."
"I-I—I don't know how I feel." Frankie replied, to the best of her ability. She was feeling a number of things for him right now, but mostly, she felt muddled. Not knowing whether he was inserting all these feelings into her mind through the curse, or if she was just being reminded that she was still helplessly in love after all this time.
He loves you. Just give up.
"Don't you?" Tom inquired, quizzically. He frowned. Her resistance was strong, but his curse was surely stronger. She could not possibly win against him. "Ugh, you're too confused, when it is all so simple."
"What is?" she asked, still rather dazed.
"All of this is that irritating old man's fault, really. Dumbledore was the one who locked you away and filled your head with false ideals of the world."
"He tried to keep me safe..." Frankie mumbled, gaining a little resilience to all the bad memories of Dumbledore that had emerged in her head. Did Tom not remember anything good he'd done? He essentially gave her to him for an orphanage companion when there were other people in the magical world who wanted her. Dumbledore might've not always made the right decision, but neither of them would've been there without him. "...from another dark wizard, intent on destroying me..."
"Yet here you are with me." Tom smiled, pulling her a little closer. "When will you realize there's no such thing as light and dark magic? I've done good things. You've done bad things..."
"Dumbledore has spent his whole life trying to atone for the things he's done—"
"He stole your freedom!" he snapped. Why couldn't she see what that man had done to her? They could've had the life of independence they'd always dreamed of together. Frankie could've been something great to the world, like Voldemort, but Dumbledore couldn't let go of her. He knew that Tom had needed her and refused to let him keep her beside him. Tom was a brilliant boy, yet still never up to that man's impossible standards. "He's made you into what he wants you to be, but I can set you free. Just give up and come away with me..."
Tom was looking down at her with another smile, which was actually not his normal taut one or an evil grin. His voice was honeyed, and she knew that it could not be trusted. She had to stop herself from saying yes, like he was willing her to. The curse was strong, but she had to keep resisting. This wasn't real. He was just trying to take her away. It wouldn't stop him from killing someone dear to her.
He loves you. Just give up.
"No! Dumbledore would never use one of these foul curses on me to make me stay. I chose him, Tom. I chose him over you. Get over it already!" Frankie snapped. She was regaining a little of her resilience back as she thought about Harry, Lily and James. If she just kept them in her mind, she'd be able to break it. He would kill them if she didn't break through this curse. She thought about all of her friends, most dead now by his hand, of Dumbledore and Slughorn, whose fatherly protection had always guided and supported her, not caged her. Then, she thought about Tom. The real one. He was sitting under the tree by the lake with his face buried in a book he didn't really have any interest in. That boy who always told her not to give up. With what little control she had regained, Frankie managed to grab hold of both his hands. They were as cold and bony as she remembered, but they no longer fit so seamlessly together with hers. "Why did you have to become like this? What happened to the real Tom Riddle?"
Tom stopped abruptly and looked down at her with a different expression. His eyes were no longer red; however, she still saw madness within them. The curse broke and the rest of her free will was instantly returned to her. Frankie quickly backed away and grabbed her wand off the ground as she went, before he could stop her. However, he didn't even attempt to stop her. Tom just stood there, seemingly consumed by her questions. She didn't waste the opportunity, raising her wand to attack. Yet she stopped at the last second when she saw the look on his face.
"What happened to me? What happened to me?" Tom kept repeating, his expression looking so pitiful, almost possibly even sad. However, then it was immediately lost amongst madness and an insane laughter. Frankie had finally been able to touch the one little nerve he had left and make him properly upset and angry. "You're what happened to me! You're the one who opened up my heart and then left me to bleed! The second it became too inconvenient, too scary, and dark for you to handle, you turned away from me. You left me when I needed you the most..."
She stared at him blankly, not expecting him to lash out at her with such a fury. What exactly was she supposed to say to this kind of outburst? Frankie wanted to argue that she was the one left waiting all those years, however, it was her decision to stay at the castle that had initially severed them.
"I continue to be absolutely mad about you, even to this very day, and will remain this way until the day I die. I'll never get over it and this is what you've reduced me too." Tom shouted. The seemingly simple questions had ignited so much more in him than he'd even thought possible to feel. It'd been so long since anyone asked him about truthful feelings. The words just seem to spit out like bullets. "When are you going to admit that you've made this whole mess and you can't clean it up with foolish notions of love! It's too late!"
Frankie still remained silent, even at such harsh words. He pretty much blamed her for his downward spiral into darkness and practically all his actions prior, including this war. He was waiting impatiently for an answer, and it probably was best she answered him before he exploded again. That surely wasn't twenty- five years' worth of things unsaid.
"You're right," Frankie agreed, to much of his surprise. Tom looked genuinely astonished. He clearly thought she would deny all of it and feign innocence to his evil like she had been doing their entire lives. "I never should've tricked a pathetic creature like you into believing you could ever be loved."
"I always thought you were a rotten liar, but you're putting on quite the little show for me tonight..." Tom laughed. "You're the pathetic one though, my dear. Your presence here tonight is evidence of that. You wouldn't have bothered coming if you never loved me. You wouldn't be fighting me this hard, if you didn't think there was even the slightest chance I might choose love over power."
She filled the space between them again. He did his best not to quiver at her approach, however, was too distracted by a horrific yearning to even think about raising his wand against her again.
"You've always been so afraid of losing me, but I can never truly be yours, Tom. You're right." she replied, simply. He scoffed at the overtly sappy statement. She couldn't have been more right, but he was still convinced in his polluted mind that she was mistaken and that wasn't what this was all about. "I love you, but I can't fix you. It's already too late..."
"You're wrong. I don't need someone like you anymore! I don't need anyone," he snapped back, in a stentorian yell. She was so infuriating. Why couldn't she understand? Although, speaking truthfully, he still didn't completely understand either. What exactly was she to him now? Love was weakness, so he eliminated all traces of it. And yet she was the only thing in this life he truly loved and had loved him in return. To be rid of these mixed feelings, did he have to take her with him, or take her life? He had raised his wand at her in a blind rage, but she merely stared back at him with cold and solemn eyes. Tom desperately searched for the splendor and happiness in her eyes, that sparkle they once had when she used to look at him, but it wasn't there. It was gone and he couldn't get it back no matter how desperately he tried. He had cut that connection with her a long time ago when he chose to be Voldemort. There wasn't actually a way to have both, the choice had always been one or the other and he had already made his decision. "Your death doesn't frighten me. I can kill you and it won't mean a thing, except the final nail in the coffin of the Gryffindor bloodline!"
"I understand." Frankie stated. She was smiling in her mind because smiling on the outside would be too dangerous for him. Finally, he understood that he had to let her go. Now, she would finally be able to do the same.
They began dueling again, both a little more solemn and serious than last time. Frankie wasn't easily slipped up by his onslaught of spells. She put up a good fight, however, Voldemort was right. She couldn't keep up with him forever. They got locked in a more heated and grave battle. Spells flying in every direction. However, eventually, she slipped up. Voldemort sent a jet of blue light and Frankie was pushed back onto the ground, unable to block it in time. Realizing this was the opportune time to deliver the final strike, he quickly glided over and pointed his wand down at her. Frankie was lying there, wandless, defenseless, and expressionless. He thought it would frighten her, being this close to death, knowing that by losing she had failed the Potters and signed their death sentence.
However, Frankie seemed rather calm. She didn't egg him on anymore, make any attempts to try and get her wand back, or get any last witty jabs at him before her inevitable end. She just laid there, staring at him blankly with those beautifully bright eyes, waiting. He had a choice to withdraw his wand and let her go. However, then the battle would never end. It was clear Frankie intended on fighting him until the death, even though she knew it was impossible to beat him.
"I love you..."
"I know..."
Frankie flashed one of her genuine smiles, despite her position, despite what he was about to do. She smiled at him because she knew that's what he loved the most about her. Never did he imagine that the strange girl he met in the orphanage garden when he was six years old would be lying on the ground before him an entire lifetime later, smiling, and he would be pointing a wand at her throat, poised to kill her. And yet he still blamed her for all of this. It was her own fault for inserting herself into his life. If she hadn't been so keen to be his friend, if she hadn't entranced him with that smile and her kindness, they wouldn't be in this situation right now. They had both come so far together, but now she was in his way, no longer willing to be by his side. She had to die. He had kept it in the back of his mind for many years, knowing she would never follow him into darkness, and, in the end, he would have to kill her for it. He allowed himself to examine her features one last time for his memories.
And in one green flash, she was gone.
Frankie hadn't closed her eyes and prepared herself for death. And Tom had gotten caught in her gaze yet again. They were the same eyes he'd caught staring at him from the bushes several years ago, the ones he'd fell helplessly in love with. Although, it seemed like a kind and sentimental last act, it was horribly cruel of her. She had wanted to make him see the light leave her eyes, secretly knowing he would suffer when he did. His heart which was long frozen, now burned with a heat that enveloped his insanity and he became filled with intense emotions he didn't understand. It was a sort of sick feeling, like when you dry swallow a huge pill and it tries to crawl back up your throat, or realizing you're falling down the stairs and there's nothing you can do to stop it. Was this what remorse felt like? Or was this pity? Or fury? Or anguish? He had to turn away from her body to push back most of these feelings he'd kept locked up inside for so long. Once he managed to contain all of them again and compose himself, Tom turned back to her,
"Idiot."
With that last sentiment, he transformed himself back to Voldemort. He no longer had a reason to ever be Tom Riddle again and he wasn't exactly going to be able to strike fear in the Potters with his charming, handsome face still on. Voldemort was about to turn away again when the faintest glimmer caught his eye. A dulled gold locket had fallen out of her blouse and was forcing him to look at her again. Voldemort tore the trinket from her neck and clasped it around his own. He still needed two more Horcruxes and it seemed to be a sufficient item. Normally, he'd been aiming for items of historical significance to the world. However, this had personal significance to him, like the diary. She probably wouldn't approve, especially considering she was not going to be the victim he made it with. He wasn't going to use her death in such a wretched way. But he still was going to honor her memory by giving the locket a piece of his soul. She would get whatever bit of Tom there was left, and they would always be able to be together. He pried the locket open, despite his better judgement, and the ghostly figures danced around him, laughing like proper fools. Their last dance had been so ugly in comparison. He'd had enough and quickly closed the locket again. The pair was gone for good. Voldemort drew his hood once more and continued to walk towards the town of Godric's Hollow and the Potter house, like he hadn't been stopped in the first place. Their story was finally over, yet he had to continue on without her, because their end was only the beginning.
The End.