My Love for Tom Riddle

The story of Lord Voldemort and the only girl he ever loved. How she left his life, hating him, and what the Dark Lord was willing to do to win back her heart.


6. Undead

When the flashing and shouting dies down, I hear Voldemort shout, "You fools!" A table crashes. "You incompetent fools!"

I hear hurried footsteps rush to me until they stop in front of me. I don't have to open my eyes to know it was him. I just know.

I open my eyes and stare at his shocked face, breathing properly once again. Startled gasps and a few "Impossible!"s emerge from the mouths of his followers.

Voldemort jumps back as if he's been struck, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"You're alive!" He yanks me into his arms, pulling me close. I don't return the embrace. 

He cups my face in his hands, his eyes scanning my face. "Is it really you?" he whispers.

"Yes," I say, my voice weak. "Please let go of me."

"Yes, yes of course." He steps back. His eyes never leave me. "I - I thought you had -"

"Died?" I finish. "Yeah, I did."

"I don't understand."

"You don't need to," I say. "It's none of your business."

"I'm making it my business," he says with a steely resolve. He peers at me closer. I can see the wonder in his eyes. "You still look fifteen. How is that? Tell me."

I fold my arms across my chest. "I'm a vampire."

He frowns, clearly concerned. "Who turned you?"

"I don't know."

"I see." He turns and begins to pace. The Death Eaters part to let him through. "And why did you not come to me?" he says with his back to me.

"I didn't want to be with a murderer."

He stops. "What did you say?"

"You killed your dad and your grandparents," I say. "You were a murderer at seventeen. Still are I'm sure."

"Oh, are you?" he asks. "Quite sure?"

"... Yes."

He bows his head. What sounded like a cry of pain came from him. He covers his face with his hand.

"Milord?" A woman with wild, springy dark hair and a pale complexion and crazy eyes steps forward, her hand touching his shoulder. I recognize her as Bellatrix Lestrange.

At her touch, Voldemort straightens. "Everyone. Out," he says softly.

"Milord?" Bellatrix asks, confused.

"Out!" he yells, his voice shaking the room, and Death Eaters start popping out of the room. 

The last to leave is Bellatrix. She glares at me and then disappears.

"Well, you sure know how to clear a room," I say.

"Years of practice," he says.

"Fifty," I say. "But who's counting?"

"Why did you not come back to me?" he asks. He turns to face me.

"I thought we've been over this?"

"Did you not love me?" he demands. "Because I love you very much."

"You weren't the man I thought you were."

"Wasn't I?" he says bitterly. "Did you not sit with us in the Great Hall? Listen and join in on our conversations?"

"You were a Slytherin. It was to be expected."

"What was? Our discussions of the Dark Arts?"


"You did not love me?"

"I did," I say. "It's been fifty years. I don't love you anymore. I never will again."

"Is that so?" he says, all traces of emotion gone from his face.


A muscle ticks in his jaw as he grits his teeth. "Make no mistake. I will not be letting you go."


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