heir2slytherin: (We Kissed)
Title / Prompt: Picture Prompt - Life
Character: Tom Riddle, the boy who becomes Voldemort
Warnings: none
Pairings: Tom/AU!Blaise
Your character's fandom: Harry Potter
Word count: 312 per PocketWord
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I don't own Tom Riddle -- if I did, he'd have decent motivations.
Crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] licenseartistic


Parts of Europe still lay in ruin, bleak testimony to the things that humankind could wreak upon itself. The wizarding parts of the world were rebuilding faster than their Muggle counterparts, but even they were reeling after the dual assault of the war and of Grindelwald. Tom and Blaise fled to the flat Blaise's family owns in London after Tom took his revenge upon those who made his childhood a living hell, travelling in the shadows, keeping to themselves because Blaise knew even though Tom seemed all right, he wasn't in the mood to deal with others.

There was an empty lot scattered with rubble near the flat -- all that remained of a building that had been partially destroyed in the Blitz. The rest of the building had been knocked down the year before, and the lot was being cleared for rebuilding. Tom looked out over the lot as the sun sunk below the horizon, his expression grim until Blaise pulled him back into the flat and proceeded to distract him with kisses and gentle caresses. "It's going to get better, my heart," Blaise told him. "You Brits and us Russians -- they can't keep us down, you know..."

"No, they can't," Tom agreed, allowing himself to relax, finally; to melt into his lover's arms. They slept well that night, tangled together on the small bed, and when Tom woke late the next morning, he found his lover out on the balcony looking out at the lot.

Tom followed Blaise's gaze to see something they had missed in the darkness of the night before. The sun shone down through a break in the clouds, directly on a lush green vine poking its way through the clutter of stone and bricks, one bright yellow flower beginning to open.

"Feeling better, then?" Blaise asked, and Tom nodded.

"I am now," he answered softly.
heir2slytherin: (Studious Tom)
What was/is your childhood ambition?

Which one?

The one I had as wee ickle Tom, where all I wanted was to have a family who would love me and take me away from that godforsaken place? Where I wanted to be one of the lucky ones who waved goodbye from the arms of a loving mother as they climbed into a car and drove away, never, ever to return? To be adopted by a family that didn't believe I was possessed because I called snakes to me or because strange things happened when I was angry?

Or maybe the one I had when I was about nine or ten, when I'd given up hope of ever being adopted, but still held out some small hope that my life there would not be an absolute hell? Where I hoped to avoid the bullies, even though some part of me knew that being 'different' would draw them like sharks to blood. Where I hoped that by being quiet and staying in the library most of the time, I would manage to avoid them?

Well. Neither of those ambitions worked out overly well. However, one day, a very strange old man came to visit me, and he opened up an entirely new world to me. He told me that I was a wizard, and that I would be attending a school to teach me how to use my magic. This explained so many things -- it told me why all those things happened when I was frightened or angry. It told me that I truly was better than those brutes who used their fists and worse to try to show their superiority.

And suddenly, I knew a new ambition -- to learn everything I could about magic, and to never, ever be helpless or weak again. And that one, I believe I have a much better chance of achieving than any of those foolish, childish dreams I once held onto.

-----
Fandom: Harry Potter
Muse: Tom Riddle, the boy who becomes Voldemort
Word Count: 322 per MS Word
Crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse
heir2slytherin: (DL + His LT)
Title / Prompt: 4/06 - "Something of vengence I had tasted for the first time; as aromatic wine it seemed, on swallowing, warm and racy: its after-flavor, metallic and corroding, gave me a sensation as if I had been poisoned." - Charlotte Bronte
Character: Tom Riddle, the boy who becomes Voldemort
Warnings: reference to violence
Pairings: Tom/AU!Blaise
Your character's fandom: Harry Potter
Word count: 326 per MSWord
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own Tom Riddle -- if I did, he'd have decent motivations.
Crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] licenseartistic


Tom knows vengeance; knows it intimately. Still remembers the white hot flare of rage when he believed the Potters had killed Blaise. Still remembers the madness that took his mind and wouldn't let go until he obliterated them -- or attempted to do so, that is. Still remembers the instant of shock as he cast the killing curse at the supposedly defenseless infant in the crib, and found himself blown out of his own body.

It was a mixed blessing, for while he nearly destroyed himself in his rage, he also found himself in the haven of his lover's mind; realized that Blaise was not dead, just badly wounded. It was that realization that brought him back from the brink of madness, and the contact with his lover gradually healed his mind. And while their previous physical intimacy was lost to them, he discovered a new level of intimacy that he had never dreamed could exist.

And now he has his own body back; can touch his lover's warm skin, can lick along those sensitive scars and watch him shiver in reaction. He misses the intimacy of mind-in-mind, of thoughts and emotions wrapping around each other, but this is something they will fix in time. He never wants to lose the ability to touch his lover again.

Now, when someone tries to harm his love, he still takes his vengeance. He will never allow anyone to hurt Blaise without making them pay, but he is much more careful now. He will never forget that instant of blind terror as he believed he was dying -- he uses the Killing Curse with much more caution, and takes his vengeance on those who harm his love in a much more personal way. After all, he has learned a great deal of skill with a knife under Blaise's tutelage, and a good Slytherin is never afraid of doing what must be done, no matter how grisly it may be...
heir2slytherin: (DL + His LT)
What is the most dangerous thing you have ever done?

Throughout his childhood, Tom Riddle was alone. But he wasn't lonely, because he had no idea what it was that he was missing. There were unpleasantries and hardships; a war that turned all of the children, bully and victim alike, into desperately terrified little boys hiding in the shelter; attacks that left him battered and bruised; insults and tauntings. As he grew older, he threw himself into his studies, determined to never be weak or helpless again. And that left him little time for friendships or other relationships -- and that was the way he liked it.

After all, what did it matter that he was alone? That way, no one could hurt him, no one could get close enough to betray him in any way. He was above, apart, safe. Love, and friendship, was a weakness, and one he could not afford.

All of that changed one day when a boy in his own future found the Diary he had been enchanting to contain a part of his soul. Those enchantments were incomplete, but what was finished allowed him to communicate with this boy, and he found himself craving the contact. They had discussions about anything and everything, and suddenly he found that he had something he never had before -- a friend.

As their communications continued, he realized that he felt something even more for this boy from the future, and learned that the boy felt it in return. And slowly, he came to admit to himself that this feeling might just be love...

Time turned, as it has been known to, and the boy joined him, determined to keep him safe and keep him from ever being alone again. And while Tom -- now Lord Voldemort -- had his followers, none of them were called friend. No one, except for the boy, Blaise Zabini.

And so one evening, he called a gathering of his followers, the Death Eaters. And as he stepped out before them, clad in robes and crackling with magic, he led Blaise out in front of them all. And said, in a clear, strong voice, "This man is my lieutenant. He is my eyes and ears when I am not present. You will follow direction from him as you do from me, without question. Because if I learn that you are questioning something he says, you will suffer as you know I can make you suffer..."

And one of them dared to question, right there as he announced it. "But he doesn't even wear your Mark, my Lord," he protested. Some relative of the Black family, although that wasn't exactly an identifying factor these days. Tom stared at this man for half a beat, then flicked his wand in his direction without even uttering a word. Everyone scattered, avoiding the green and gold magic shooting in his direction, and a moment later there stood a twisted, ugly tree. "I said that Blaise is my lieutenant. Does anyone else have a question?" Tom asked, looking down on them all.

And whether they did or did not, none of them dared to voice it. His lieutenant had been accepted into their ranks.

It was only later, after the Death Eaters had scattered, that Tom held Blaise close and allowed himself to react to the fear he had been ignoring. "They could have destroyed us both, Love," he whispered...

-----
Fandom: Harry Potter
Muse: Tom Riddle, the boy who becomes Voldemort
Notes: Yeah, it's AU. So sorry.
Word Count: 562 per MS Word
Crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse
heir2slytherin: (Carved Initials)
Title / Prompt: 3-06 Birthday
Character: Tom Riddle, the boy who becomes Voldemort
Warnings: none
Pairings: Tom/AU Blaise
Your character's fandom: Harry Potter
Word count: 322 per PocketWord
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I don't own Tom Riddle -- if I did, he'd have decent motivations.
Crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] licenseartistic


Birthdays were never celebrated in the orphanage. There wasn't enough money that they would spend it on presents for any of the children, and meals were, as always, survival of the fittest. For the younger children, a birthday just marked one more year towards the age where they had very little chance of being adopted, and for the older, one more year towards being able to get out. That, at least, was a good thing, because out was far better than being there...

Secretly, Tom decided that all of London was throwing a birthday party for him when there were New Years' celebrations, but still, he never got any presents or anything special while he was at the orphanage. When he got to Hogwarts, since he stayed over the Holidays, there were occasionally celebrations where he might get a little extra treat, and one year his house-mates actually did throw a party for him -- although he got the impression it was more a case that they didn't want him annoyed with them when they were all trying to curry favour. And it bored him...

So on the first December 31st since Blaise had come to the past to be with him, he wasn't expecting anything. He didn't remember ever mentioning to his lover that his birthdays had been... less than exciting, but when he was woken that morning by Blaise bringing him breakfast in bed and a small box wrapped in silver and green, he was pleasantly surprised. And even more so when he opened the box to see the small serpent amulet that Blaise had made for him.

"Oh Love, this is beautiful -- you -- I... why?"

"Because I love you and it's your birthday," Blaise answered with a smile. "Today's your day, and you get whatever you want."

"Hmmn... whatever I want?" Tom asked with a wicked grin. He decided he was going to like birthdays after all.
heir2slytherin: (Angryface)
Write about your father.

Why should I write about the man who drove my mother out and was responsible for not just her death, but also the unpleasantness of my childhood, spent in that place? The man was everything that's bad about Muggles -- everything that's bad about humankind in general. I have no earthly idea why I ever entertained the notion that he might be the better of my parents, just because my mother died.

It became more than obvious to me, once I was old enough to think it through, that of course my mother died! Turned away by that bastard and forced into the street when she was pregnant? It's not like there were too many places she could have gone -- although there are certain Wizarding establishments that would have taken her in, I understand now that she didn't have the means to find them. And that bastard who was my father had her so distraught that she wouldn't have thought of it anyway.

No, my father was not useful for anything more than fueling a certain spell of great importance to me. That was his one and only use after actually fathering me, and I will not say anything further on the subject.

-----
Fandom: Harry Potter
Muse: Tom Riddle, 7th Year Slytherin
Word Count: 208 per PocketWord
And yes, my Tom has a somewhat idealized view of his Mum. Deal with it.
Crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse
heir2slytherin: (Lust and Love)
Title / Prompt: 2/06 - Feast
Character: Tom Riddle, the boy who becomes Voldemort
Warnings: there's sex in this
Pairings: AU Tom/Blaise
Your character's fandom: Harry Potter
Word count: 570 per MS Word
Rating: If I were using MPAA ratings, this would be NC-17 for pr0n
Disclaimer: I don't own Tom Riddle -- if I did, he'd have decent motivations.
Crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] licenseartistic


Cut for pr0n and length. *ahem* )
heir2slytherin: (Default)
It was one of those days...

It was one of those days where Tom would have to be very careful not to let anyone see him in an unguarded moment. After all, the Quidditch game had been an utter, unmitigated disaster, with Slytherin losing to Gryffindor by 280 points. Their Keeper had been utterly ineffective, one of their Beaters had been called on a blatant foul -- twice (but then again, he never expected Crabbe to be able to learn from his mistakes...), and the Gryffindor Seeker had basically hovered still and the Snitch had flown right into his hand.

But, Tom really didn't care, because the highlight of the game -- at least for him -- was watching Malfoy streaking after the Snitch for all he was worth, diving and reaching out to grab it, and flipping off his broom right into the most nasty, muck-filled mud puddle on the field. All that pale skin and white blond hair, splattered with mud and gods alone knew what else -- it was all Tom could do to hide the smile or the laughter that was fighting to get out as the crowd erupted in cries of 'Gryffindor cheated!' and other similar things.

He knew they'd be able to win the next three matches -- unless everyone showed similar prowess in those games, too -- so while he was annoyed that they had lost to Gryffindor, the sight of Malfoy in that disgusting state brought so much more pleasure to him that it was well worth it. He'd just have to make sure no one saw him smiling.

-----
Fandom: Harry Potter
Muse: Tom Riddle, the boy who becomes Voldemort
Word Count: 261 per MS Word
Crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse
heir2slytherin: (Voldemort - The New Version)
Title / Prompt: 1/06 Prompt: Rebirth
Character: Tom Riddle, the boy who becomes Voldemort
Warnings: Potentially confusing pronoun changes -- believe me, they're there for a reason.
Pairings: Tom/Blaise
Your character's fandom: Harry Potter
Word count: 779 per MS Word (some of them are JKR's)
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own Tom Riddle -- if I did, he'd have decent motivations.
Crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] licenseartistic


Cut for length )
heir2slytherin: (Default)
Superstition. Are you superstitious about anything? Is someone you know superstitious? Write a ficlette on the theme of superstition.

Superstitions are for those who don't truly understand what's going on around them. Magic is real. Vampires, werewolves, witches and wizards; centaurs, dragons, giants, and all manner of supposedly 'legendary' beasts -- they're all real.

And look at some of these old superstitions -- anyone with half a brain could see that they make no sense at all. On the one hand, they say it's lucky if a bird flies into the house, but then they turn around and say it's bad luck? Which one is it? Personally, I would think if a bird flies into the house, it's more messy and a nuisance than lucky or unlucky -- unless he happens to land on some expensive heirloom and you break it trying to catch him!

And of course let's not forget the Muggle idiocy that resulted in the deaths of millions during the Dark Ages. Yes, it is true that witches and wizards use cats as familiars, but they are not unlucky or sneaky or messengers of the Devil, and they certainly don't suck the life out of babies. What they do, however, is catch and kill rodents. Rodents that have been known to carry Plague infested fleas. Because of foolish superstitions about cats being unlucky, sneaky, or evil, the Muggles managed to decimate their own population through a hideous disease that had absolutely nothing to do with magic. Fools.

-----
Fandom: Harry Potter
Muse: Tom Riddle, the boy who becomes Voldemort
Word Count: 231 per MS Word
Crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse
heir2slytherin: (Tom and Blaise)
From just about all over

Take that, Dumbledore! )

Happiness

Jan. 2nd, 2006 08:06 am
heir2slytherin: (Tom and Blaise)
What are you happy about right now?

Stretching my fingers, wiggling my toes. Biting my tongue. Fighting with a knot in my hair, stubbing my toe. Warm furs, soft sheets; fluffy pillows. Strong arms around me, firm touches; gentle strokes, teeth nibbling sensitive areas. Rising pleasure, clenching muscles, hot hard flesh sliding deep...

Salty bacon and peppery eggs; the burn of strong liquor. Fresh fruit. Sweet strawberries and crisp apples. Fresh baked black bread with cold butter; poppy seed filled pastries. Roast chicken, thin-sliced pan-seared steak, berry kvas and meatballs in vodka...

Pine wood fires, roasting herb-rubbed chicken; spicy incense. The crisp cold air; damp stone, moist earth and deep woods. Storms rolling in across the ocean; salt-sea air. The scent of snow on the winter wind. The scent of my lover's hair; sweet, clean musk...

A soft voice whispered in my ear, warm breath and teasing tongue; teeth nipping my earlobe...

Having my own body back again!

-----
Fandom: Harry Potter
Muse: Tom Riddle, the boy who becomes Voldemort
Word Count: 151 per MS Word
Crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse
heir2slytherin: (Voldemort - The New Version)
That woman mentions Jocunda Sykes and not me? Bah. Happy Birthday to me.

Karma

Dec. 20th, 2005 11:17 am
heir2slytherin: (DL + His LT)
What does "karma" mean to you?

Karma is an concept in Indian mystical philosophy that in very simplified terms states that when a person acts, they expend part of their own energy upon nature. Nature, in turn, reacts to this energy, and the combination of these two events are karma. It is believed to be an infinite chain of actions and reactions, stretching back into the infinity of the past and therefore into the infinity of the future. It is also believed to be inescapable because it is a part of nature and therefore everywhere. Sooner or later, the reaction will be felt by the person who initiated the action.

The western world has simplified this teaching further into a belief that whatever one does in this life will affect them either somewhere down the path in their current life, or, if they believe in reincarnation, in their next life.

While it is obvious to anyone with a brain that our actions affect the world around us and that the world reacts, I don't believe that an action that I take now will have any effect on a future life. First, I don't intend to die in this life, so a future one is unnecessary. Second, it is foolish to wish for some mythical cosmic balance to punish someone who commits a bad act. If someone harms me or mine, I will deal with them accordingly. I don't intend to sit around waiting for their karma to catch up with them, and I can't imagine anyone else who sees their lover nearly killed by someone who claims to be good would wait for them to get theirs in their next life, either!

-----
Fandom: Harry Potter
Muse: Tom Riddle, the boy who becomes Voldemort
Word Count: 282 per PocketWord
Crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse

Dear Tom

Dec. 8th, 2005 12:16 am
heir2slytherin: (Holding Diary)
Write a letter to yourself as a child.

Tom,

No, you're not going insane, this is your writing, although perhaps a little more mature than you're used to seeing.

It's bad right now, I know. Be strong, be brave -- it gets much, much better. You're not a freak, you're not crazy, and you definitely do not belong in the asylum. They will try to hurt you, try to force you into their mould. Don't let them -- remain yourself, because you are far, far more interesting than they will ever be.

A strange man will come to visit you when you're eleven -- he's not insane, but he's not someone you want to get overly close to, either. Just take my word on this -- he claims to have your best interests in mind, but he's just a little... over-friendly.

Don't hate your Mother -- she didn't mean to leave you. Go ahead and hate your father, though, he deserves it. And this one is important: when you get a diary as a gift, do everything you can to make it yours. It comes in really handy later on. Trust me on this -- it will help you find someone who is very important to you. I can't explain more at this point, but remember this, whatever happens.

Oh -- and watch that temper of yours. It can lead to problems.

Yours,
Tom

-----
Fandom: Harry Potter
Muse: Tom Riddle, the boy who becomes Voldemort
Word Count: 226 per MS Word
Crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse
heir2slytherin: (DL + His LT)
Write about losing control.

There's blood, and pain, and yes, broken bones and other signs of torture. He can smell the magic, can feel the lingering taint of Crucios and other hexes cast by supposedly 'good' people. By Aurors. And as his lover collapses in a broken heap right before him, something in him snaps.

Fury surges through him, burning away the veneer of polite society as if it never existed. No memories of promises he made, or reminders he left for himself -- only the rage, and the thirst for vengeance.

He hunts them down ruthlessly, smelling his lover's blood and the taint of their magic, and faces them unafraid. An avenging angel, a messenger of the gods -- no demure church angel; instead the kind sent when the disobedient needed to be punished. When cities needed to be razed and people needed to be slaughtered in the name of the gods. He is all this -- fury and rage and vengeance with no conscious thought other than that they must pay.

And when they beg and plead for their lives, he cuts them down ruthlessly; the man first, then the woman as she begs for the life of her son. But he was there, he is of them -- and anything that is of them must be wiped from the face of this planet. He does not care that the innocent baby couldn't possibly have had anything to do with torturing his lover. He is anger and hate-fueled fury, and the Potters must die. He raises his wand one more time...

-----
Fandom: Harry Potter
Muse: Tom Riddle, the boy who becomes Voldemort
Word Count: 259 per MS Word
Crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse

Mirrors

Nov. 3rd, 2005 10:13 am
heir2slytherin: (DL + His LT)
What do you think when you look in the mirror?

When I look in the mirror, there's a split-second of confusion, every time. It's not my own face looking back at me, but that of my lieutenant. My most trusted companion -- my only trusted companion. My friend, my lover...

I expect to see green eyes and curly hair, and instead the hair is long and straight, and the eyes are blue. There are scars marking that handsome face, from the torture by Aurors that nearly killed him. The attack on him by the Potters which sent me into a vengeful rage -- and landed me here, in his head...

Once the confusion fades, and the anger, the view is a very appealing one. Despite the protests and self-deprecation rolling through his mind, I like what I see in the mirror. He's lean and strong, and although there are more scars that send an echo of that old rage through me, he's beautiful. One day, soon, we'll be able to perform the ritual to give me back my body, and then I'll be able to touch him again, and thank him properly for protecting me as selflessly as he has. I can't wait for the day when I can look into the mirror and see my own face looking back at me over his shoulder, while he's wrapped in my arms.

-----
Fandom: Harry Potter
Muse: Tom Riddle, the boy who becomes Voldemort; during the 80's
Word Count: 231 per PocketWord
Crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse
heir2slytherin: (Voldemort - The New Version)
Talk about a time you overcame serious self-doubt.

Hmn. This question sounds oddly familiar. Ah well, to be truthful, the only time I truly had self-doubts was during my childhood. So many strange things happened to me that I became convinced that there was something wrong with me. That I was, as the other children said, a freak. Or worse, as the adults sometimes suggested, mad. I became convinced that they would send me off to the madhouse -- to protect the other boys, of course. No one ever bothered to think about protecting me.

I doubted myself -- even in the moments where I thought that they were all wrong, that I knew it was true that I was special in some way, there was always that little hint of doubt in the back of my mind. It wasn't until Dumbledore came to the orphanage and told me that I was not a freak, but instead a wizard, that I could overcome those doubts and truly believe with all of my heart and soul that I was special. And that the lot of them were inferior to me in every way.

-----
Fandom: Harry Potter
Muse: Tom Riddle, the boy who becomes Voldemort
Word Count: 192 per Pocket Word
Crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse
heir2slytherin: (Default)
Have you ever experienced something you couldn't explain? Write down your brushes with the mysterious

He's eleven, and has lived his entire life in London, with a once-yearly trip to the seaside. He's never even owned a dog, although one of the other boys had a pet rabbit. He didn't like that rabbit much -- it bit him and peed on him, and he decided it wasn't worth his time.

But when Tom attends his first Care of Magical Creatures class, he stares in awe at the creature standing at the edge of the forest.

He thinks, at first, that he must be seeing things -- it can't possibly be real. And yet, it stands there, so bright white that the sunlight on its glossy coat is nearly blinding.

It gives a flick of its lion-like tail and turns its head to regard him -- and the rest of the class, but it feels like its blue eyes are locked on him -- and he can see the shining gold of the single spiral horn.

"Is that a..."

"Yes, my boy, that is a unicorn," the teacher answers with a smile, and Tom continues to stare, amazed. This new world he belongs to has so many wonders in it, and he wants to learn about every one of them.

-----
Fandom: Harry Potter
Muse: Tom Riddle, the boy who becomes Voldemort
Word Count: 219 per PocketWord
Crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse

Secrets

Sep. 6th, 2005 01:37 pm
heir2slytherin: (Tom and Blaise)
Crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] straying_secret

Part of the AU storyline with [livejournal.com profile] plaamyapazhar

A postcard from the past...

a postcard from the past )
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