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Tom Riddle wasn't always evil. There was a time, long ago now, when he felt something other than hate. Something more than the iron taste of bitterness rested in his mouth. Something less than a monster gazed back at him from a reflective surface. A time when he felt wonder and friendship and, dare he say it, love.
"Are you getting adopted?”
Tom peeked out from under his bed, a place he sometimes went to think and be alone, a refuge of sorts, and looked up at the girl above him. She had her hands on her hips, and her curly red hair was tied into two pigtails, folded neatly over the shoulders of her slightly too large pinafore dress.
“Why would you think that?” Tom asked in response to her question.
Emma shifted her weight from one foot to another nervously. “Because. That man came to talk to you… And you were talking for a long time. Sarah said you were getting adopted.”
“Sarah’s a snot nosed brat who doesn’t know what she’s talking about, and should learn to shut her stupid little mouth.” Tom replied sharply, scrambling out from under his bed to face her.
“So you’re not leaving then?” She asked hopefully. Tom sighed and looked down.
“Oh.” Emma said quietly, and Tom could hear the disappointment and sorrow laced in her voice.
“It’s not forever.” Tom hurriedly tried to assure her. “I’m not getting adopted, I’m just going to a school, a special school, for people with special abilities, like mine. People who understand.”
“I understand!” She looked pleadingly into her eyes. “I do!”
“I know you try, but these people can help me. They can help me control all these special things I can do, so I can use them properly.”
Emma’s lower lip trembled before she slowly nodded. “You’ll be back, though? You swear?”
“Of course I will, every holiday and summer, and I’ll write every day! I swear it.” He caught her gaze in his. “You believe me, don’t you?”
Emma huffed and smiled. “Of course I do, Tom. I’ll always believe you, no matter what the other kids or anyone else says.”
Tom quickly brought her into a tight hug, closing his eyes and trying to fend off the guilt and shame welling up in the pit of his stomach. “I know you will.”
Tom didn’t go back for Christmas, or any holidays. He never wrote one letter. He went to Hogwarts, got sorted into Slytherin, and quickly adapted to a new way of life. A better way, he constantly asserted himself. A way that wiould one day ensure him greatness.
When he was finally forced to go back to the orphanage, when summer holidays began, Emma wasn't there. She’d been killed in a hit and run near Kings Cross Station, at Christmas. The day Tom was supposed to arrive back. She’d ran away from the orphanage when Mrs. Brown had refused to take her, and had spent all the money she’d saved up in her life on a bus ticket there.
When she’d been hit, it was dark and the muggle driver was drunk. She’d waited there, at the train station, all day. He never showed up.
That was the last day Tom Riddle ever felt anything close to remorse in his entire life.
Just then Severus, his ever faithful servant entered the shack, pulling him from thoughts of the past.
“Ah, Severus, you are here.” Voldemort said silkily.
“Yes, my Lord, but should I not be getting back?” Severus replied confusedly.
“No. There is something that needs to be done, first.” The Dark Lord said, his eyes gleaming.
Severus seemed to sense that something was wrong and took a step back. “But, my Lord, their resistance is crumbling-“
“-And it is doing so without your help,” said Voldemort in his high, clear voice. “Skilled wizard though you are, Severus, I do not think you will make much difference now. We are almost there… almost.”
FIN