Tom

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We were relaxing in the Slytherin common room. The day itself was pretty uneventful. Both Crabbe and Goyle had terrible hang overs. They were too stubborn to use any magic and thankfully the sickness was long passed by now, but the morning had been pretty awful. It was late, around eleven thirty at night, and we sat alone in the room. Everything was swell. There was a roaring fire going in the fireplace, a fresh batch of hot tea, and a sense of peace in the air. I should have known right around then, something just wasn't right.



Our simple night came to a screeching halt the moment I opened Tom Riddle's diary, .



"Don't you dare touch him!" Crabbe growled, holding the iron fire poker above his head, ready to swing.



The infamous Tom Marvolo Riddle just smiled, hands still clutching my shirt collar in a death grip as we stood, face to face. Actually, he stood, I struggled to balance on the ends of my toes as he held me in the air. As much as I tried to squirm away from Tom's grasp, I could do nothing. My energy was suffering greatly from his presence, his spells and general no-good aura stealing it from me. The room spun just then. Ice cold and numb with paralyzing fear, I knew I was about to faint again. But this was the furthest thing from my jumbled mind.



Oh god's... Goyle....



"I said, let go of him!" Crabbe circled Tom, passing Goyle's fallen body as it lay limp on the ornate green Slytherin rug at the center of the room.



My head swimming, I glanced down to the couch nearby. The book was gone. What had the blasted diary said this time? I couldn't think straight. My vision blurred as I struggled to stay conscious.



Goyle...



Tom suddenly dropped me, letting my limp body fold in on itself as I crumpled to the ground. I should have sprang to my feet and found a safe place away from time, safer than lying here beside the couches out in the open, defenseless. yet all I could manage in the state I lay in was merely rolling over onto my stomach. Maybe I could just crawl away? Who needs dignity anymore...



I spotted Goyle's stricken body nearby, only feet away. I wasn't going to run like a coward, not with my friends still here. Whatever curse Tom had cast at Gregory Goyle, it terrified the hell out of me. A blinding flash of fire and white-hot heat had filled the room as a spell I've never seen before struck my friend. Now Goyle lay there, just feet away from me and all too still.



Goyle, be alright... Please be alright...



I grasped at the rug for leverage and began dragging myself along towards my fallen friend.



Nearby, Tom Riddle loomed, staring Vincent Crabbe down with coal black eyes. Tom was substantially taller than Crabbe and towered over the boy, his shadow cast from the fire light blanketing the Slytherin common room behind him, filling it with an unearthly darkness.



"Goyle," I croaked, loosing my remaining strength fast as I grasped the leg of a nearby table, trying in vain to pull myself up closer to the boy. A nauseating smell of charred flesh paired with the fierce ozone scent left by remnants of strong magic hung heavy in the air. Ash was still settling like faint black snow from the spell's aftershocks. Where he lay stricken, Goyle's back faced me, he was still too far from my grasp. I had to see what happened, if he was still even alive...



Nearby, Tom and Crabbe were still slowly, carefully circling each other as boxers may while sizing up an appointment before that first bell rings. In a moment of weakness, Crabbe's eyes darted down to me for a split second. And the bell must have sounded. Tom lunged at him, more than ready for an all out brawl. I was surprised by his bodily attack after the power he showed through his astounding magic. I suppose Riddle decided against the wizardly way of combat just for the sheer amusement of a vicious beating. The two boys struggled, knocking furniture aside, clamoring through the room with fists flying. With all the noise, I couldn't understand why was no one coming to help. All the shouting, the screams, and nothing! I knew Slytherin tend to worry about themselves and not the safety of others, but there was a war waging out here! During any other fight, there was at least onlookers! In the struggling heap that was Tom and Crabbe, the iron fire poker dropped to the carpet and rolled away from all of us.



I must have fell unconscious for a moment, slumping down to the carpet as the room went black. When I came to again, seconds later, Tom had Crabbe on his stomach across the floor, seated on his back like he was preparing to ride the grunting boy like a broom and holding the smaller boy's arms crossed painfully behind his back. Tom had him pinned for sure. I blinked my vision into focus, watching as the raven haired boy held his hand out towards the fire poker.



"Accio!" Tom growled, the fire poker instantly flying to his grasp as if magnetized. I could only watch in horror as Tom held the steel rod like a baton over his head. He laughed maniacally as he swung the weapon down, showing no mercy against Crabbe's side.



Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!



"You really think you can get in my way!?" Tom yelled in between the crushing blows, "Me!? The great Tom Marvolo Riddle!? I answer to no one!!"

Crabbe's shrill cries filled the room as he writhed underneath the enraged Tom's weight. Riddle must have hit him a dozen times, each blow harder than the last.



No, No, No! This couldn't be happening! Not to my friends! I wouldn't watch them die like this! And all because of me, because Tom wanted me! I had to do something...



I had to give myself up.



"Stop, stop it!," I whimpered, pealing myself from the ash-covered area rug and rising to my knees.



But Tom didn't hear, his back was still turned away. I struggled to raise my head, shoulder shaking as my arms barely supported me. He let Crabbe go and stood up from the boy, staring down at him as Crabbe curled up on his side. Vincent Crabbe was pleading for mercy now, coughing hoarsely. I could see blood speckle the stone floor as he coughed. Tom just stood there, watching for a moment before his arm slowly raised the poker over his head for one last blow.



By now I had struggled to my feet. My legs wobbled unsteady beneath me as I gripped the leather sofa for support. But I managed to stand.



"Leave him alone Tom... You don't want him..."



Tom paused and glanced over his shoulder, the dark flame in his black eyes dancing now that I had his full attention. Tom slowly lowered the iron fire poker, no longer using it to bludgeon Crabbe's ribs to a pulp.



"The....di-diary.... you want me!" I stood on my own now as I let go of the sofa. Glaring at him, wanting nothing more than to end this suffering, the suffering of my friends, I raised my arms wide at my sides and glared right back at Tom's dark eyes, "Well here I am you fucker! Come get me!"

Tom stepped over Crabbe's shaking form as if the boy was a bump in the rug and stopped uncomfortably close to me. After a moment, he dropped the fire poker with a loud clang to the cold stone floor. I watched it roll from view under the couch, knowing damn well if Tom really wanted to hurt me, he didn't need the crude weapon.



"You've made your decision then," Tom stated as a grin darted across his shadowed features.



I met his smirk with a famous Draco Malfoy scowl, one that would send a first year running away with tears in their eyes and wet trousers, "Let them go and we'll talk."

Tom reached out one hand and grasped me by the throat, pulling me closer to his pale face. I choked, grasping desperately at his hand and trying to wrench his strong fingers from my neck. I didn't have a plan but I couldn't just stand there and watch him abuse Crabbe. Whatever my intentions had been, they didn't matter much now.



"Talking only gets in the way," Tom whispered, his lips inches from my struggling face, "We're beyond that now, Draco. You've been mine since the moment I laid my eyes on you. Let's go home, shall we?"



I was loosing consciousness. The blanket of numbing cold was taking me away. The room flickered in and out of vision like a flame in high winds before snuffing out completely. The last thing I heard sounded like voices in a dream, so far away. They were Crabbe's desperate cries.

"No! What are you doing to him! No!! Draco!!!"

Lights out.



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"Don't toy with me right now, Minerva!!" Professor Snape's angry voice echoed through the hospital wing, sending terrible chills down Crabbe's spine. He had never heard the professor like that. The man was unhinged.

"Alright! Alright Severus! Calm yourself!" Professor McGonagall's voice was more collected, although not by much.

Snape continued in a hushed, strained voice, speaking quickly, "One of my students nearly died tonight and another is still missing! I need to talk with Vincent Crabbe right now! Not you nor anyone else in this damned castle is going to stop me!"

Professor McGonagall sighed, "I'll let you talk with the boy, but you need to respect the fact that when Professor Dumbledore is away, I am in charge. Whatever happened tonight, we'll find out soon enough. I can't have you upsetting the boys anymore than they already are, so be mindful of what you say Severus."

Crabbe was sitting in a chair at Goyle's bedside. He had considered reaching out and grasping the unconscious boy's hand, holding it to comfort them both, but the new pink skin on Goyle's arms and hands wasn't quite healed yet. The ointments Madam Pomfrey had applied to Goyle's wounds worked incredibly fast. Crabbe wasn't the only one shocked by Goyle's condition when they first brought the boy to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey's hands had shaken as she cared for Goyle's wounds. His face was singed and blistered. All of his exposed skin, especially his fore arms and hands had been nearly blackened. It had been cozy and warm by the fire, so none of the boys were wearing their thick black robes when Tom appeared. If Goyle had his robe on, he might not have been burnt so severely. But the spell Tom used, whatever it was... Crabbe didn't think even the heavy wool robe would help much against it. The savaged flesh on Goyle's face had peeled away revealing fresh new layers of skin. Even his eyebrows and hair had started to grow back in. Madam Pomfrey spent much of the evening at the injured boy's side continuously brushing the skin away and applying more of her miracle creams and charms. She muttered nervously while she worked, occasionally whispering encouraging words to Crabbe and patting his hand.

"He'll be fine, just fine," the nurse had smiled weakly, "The boy's been through a lot of pain but it's nothing I can't mend. Look, he's already almost healed. Oh Merlin, it's a blessing the Professor's brought him here when they did... any later and... oh nevermind that."

Crabbe looked away, his voice caught in his throat. He knew why it was a blessing. Goyle would be dead. When Professor's Snape, McGonagall, Flitwick, accompanied by a nearly useless Argus Filch had brought the boys to the Hospital Wing earlier, Goyle was barely breathing. Professor Snape had carried Goyle instead of using a levitation charms. He ran the entire way, silent with a dead set look on his face that scared Crabbe even more.

Crabbe still wasn't sure why no one had come in the Slytherin common room earlier to help them against Tom. Flitwick was shouting something about an impossible locking charm when the door to Slytherin had burst open off it's hinges. Snape was the one who blew the door off and the first to pass the threshold. By then Crabbe had managed to crawl up beside Goyle, holding the boy's side. Frantic at this point, Crabbe cried out to the first person he saw, Professor Snape.



"Draco's gone! He took Draco!"



The doors to the dorm rooms had shot open all at once, students pouring out from behind them in a mass of confusion.



"The door was stuck!"

"What's happening!!"

"What was all that screaming?!"



When the student's caught sight of Crabbe and Goyle sprawled across the floor, gasps and whispers echoed through the room.



"Get back in your dorms and lock the doors!" Snape ordered, not needing to repeat himself. The professor's quickly ran to Crabbe and Goyle's sides. Professor McGonagall paused to check Goyle's pulse, making sure the boy was still alive. Professor Snape grasped Crabbe by his shoulders.



"What happened here? Who took Draco??" the Professor's wide eyes searched Crabbe's.



Crabbe sat in shock, replying only, "Tom. Tom Riddle."



Now Crabbe sat alone with Goyle as Madam Pomfrey disappeared behind the other side of the curtain surrounding the bed. Crabbe could hear the nurse speaking low with the Professor's across the room. Footsteps approached as Madam Pomfrey, McGonagall, Snape, and Flitwick pushed the curtain aside.



"Oh Merlin, you've really outdone yourself, Poppy," relief spread across Professor McGonagall's face as she clasped Madam Pomfrey's hands in her own.



The nurse sighed, "It's been rough but he's through the worst of it. I've given him something to dull the pain," Madam Pomfrey frowned suddenly, "Exactly what spell was cast at this dear boy?"



Professor McGonagall shook her head, dropping the nurse's hands, "We don't know yet. Is it alright if we have some time alone with the boys?"



Madam Pomfrey shot each professor a look. She decided better of protesting and reluctantly left them alone with Crabbe and Goyle.



"He's taken Draco. Just like he said he would," Crabbe muttered, casting his eyes down at Goyle's unconscious face. The pink was leaving the sleeping boys cheeks, his skin returning to it's normal peachy, tan hue.



"You said Tom Riddle did this?" McGonagall asked.



"Yeah, You-Know-Who... Tom Marvolo Riddle." Crabbe said the name with resentment, "Draco found his diary at the beginning of the school year."



"And he didn't turn it in to me?" Professor Snape asked, shocked.



Crabbe shook his head, "It wasn't like that. We didn't know who's diary it was. The book just said 'Tom' on it. But now we know, now that it's too late."



"Where's this diary now?" Professor Flitwick asked.



"Gone I guess?" Crabbe looked up at the professor's inquiring faces, feeling lost and alone. Without his friends he felt helpless. They had always been by his side. Now Goyle was injured and Draco... gone somewhere. He couldn't handle all of this by himself.



"It's beneath the couch," Goyle muttered from the bed.



Crabbe stared down in shock at his friend, "Goyle!"


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