Tom

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I stood still as a post, numb, and confused, my hands trembling with fear at my sides. I quickly folded them across my chest, one tucked under each arm to keep them still. I've never felt so- so lost before. How did I end up here? Last I knew Tom's smug face was inches from mine, his cold eyes staring through my own. The boy had my neck in a death-like grasp, choking the life from me until the room grew dim. Had I blacked out? No, no way. That wouldn't explain this! I now found myself standing like a marionette without strings, mysteriously in the center of my dorm room just standing here staring blank at Crabbe and Goyle seated near the desk. It was as if I had been there all along, awake and alert. Yet nothing was right, nothing felt right. Nothing was as it should be.



"Why can't you hear me?"



My voice came out hollow and shrill, like that of a frightened child. Fear was getting the best of me. The familiar dorm room had a not-so familiar milky, hazy appearance as if I was standing in a thick morning fog. But that was far from the worst of it. My friends, they couldn't hear me! Each time I tried talking to them, tried getting their attention if only to tell them I was alright, my words fell on deaf ears. Crabbe and Goyle didn't even react. They were ignorant to the fact I stood mere feet away.



As if I wasn't there at all.



And it wasn't only the fact I couldn't speak to my friends that bothered me, I couldn't hear them either! I watched their lips move and I knew they were having a heated conversation, but for some deeply troubling reason I couldn't actually hear them talking. In a desperate attempt to make my presence known, I reached down to pluck a paper ball from the floor beside the waste bin with the intent to launch it at the boys and get their attention. But to my horror, my hand passed right through it. I felt the weight of the paper ball, sort of like passing your hand through water, but I couldn't actually touch it, even just to move it across the floor. My heart sank even further into my chest. It was as if I didn't exist, as if I wasn't really there.



Just a ghost...



I shivered again, strange coldness chilling me to the bone. It came from all around me, an aura of cold, and even from within my own chest, like before, when Tom was nearby. I moved to the desk where Goyle sat. At first I thought I moved of my own accord. But that wasn't the case, I felt as though I was guided there, pulled towards the desk. Something was forcing my steps. I followed Goyle's attention down to the desk top, to that damn book, Tom's bloody diary.



"I'm right here guys! Turn around already, would you!?"



Maybe this was all a dream? It had to be! The entire room, even my friends were cast in a dreamlike glow. The candles, the small fire in the fire place, even the moonlight outside radiated the same eerie light, as if through stained glass. No, this wasn't a dream and I knew it. Everything felt too... real, even if everything I touched my hand passed right through, even Goyle's shoulder. I recoiled away from my oblivious friend, shocked. Both the boys had the same strange glow to them, similar to the ghosts that roamed the old building. I knew they weren't the ghosts here, for I was the odd boy out. A dreadful thought crossed my mind.



I might be... dead.



I grit my teeth, forcing the awful thought away. No, I was trapped somehow, as if in an alternate universe. As if... Tom and that- that book! Of course! He must have brought me back here. I was trapped where Tom was! I looked around at the strange room, unable to communicate with my friends, unable to do anything but just watch, a ghost in the world of the living. A permanent state of limbo. This is just... awful. My eyes paused on the black leather bound book, it's pages open across the desk. I could clearly see the last message dear Mr. Riddle had left across the page. A chill ran through me as I wondered what the ghastly red ink really was. I felt a deep connection to the book on the desk, the small diary. It was solid, like me, and not a strange mirage like everything else...



Like Goyle, Crabbe.



"They can't hear you, Draco. You're much too weak, "Tom spoke from beside me, "They'll never even know you were here." I glanced over at the boy. It was only a matter of time before Tom made himself known. Unlike the room around us, Tom was solid and real from his coy grin, his perfectly styled hair and perfectly tailored robes right down to the well shined black shoes. Oddly enough, I wasn't at all phased by his sudden appearance. Perhaps it was from how often Tom mysteriously appeared next to me and I was getting used to it. But I just knew he was going to show his smug, disgustingly handsome face any moment now. In all honesty, I just felt he was close by. To my misfortune, we had a some sort of sick connection now. I felt it deep in my gut as if Tom Riddle was a true part of me. Merlin, I didn't know why or how and I sure as bloody hell didn't want to think too hard about it.



"What did you do to me, Tom?" Anger started to rise in me like a heat wave, counteracting the cold burn in my chest. I was well aware this was all his doing. Whatever was happening- had happened, it was all Tom's fault.



"Stubborn friends you have, Draco," Tom watched Goyle as he hunched over the desk staring at the diary, "They want to take you back, take you away from me. But it's no use. Now that you're mine, you're here to stay by my side. I should really tell them, shouldn't I? That it's too late now?"



"What did you do!" I grabbed Tom by his well starched shirt collar. So far he was the only thing in the room I could hold in my hands, the only thing that felt substantially real to me. I wanted to shake him, strangle him, beat him bloody senseless for whatever he did to me! But I knew I needed answers. I didn't want to believe I might be... I just couldn't be. Tom obviously wasn't a ghost and he appeared alive enough. Then I couldn't be one of the undead either.



"Silly Draco," Tom laughed as he pried my hands from him, grasping them tightly in his surprisingly warm hands, "I just took what was rightfully mine. After all, didn't you give yourself to me? I was about to show you your new home, my home actually. But your irritating friends..."


Tom said the word as if it disgusted him.



"These two dimwits here are playing with my diary. Their oafish attempts, although amusing, are getting them nowhere. And I'd rather not waste our precious time together dealing with them. But, no worries, soon enough they'll give up. Soon they'll forget all about Draco Malfoy and move on with their mindless teenage lives. Then we can move on with ours."



Tom's fingers entwined with my own as he pulled me closer.



"I almost forgot to let you in on a little secret, Draco. A little birdie told me your old friend Lord Voldemort is doing quite well these days. A funny thing though," Tom chuckled, "The mighty 'Dark Lord' doesn't know I've taken you for myself, you see, he thinks you're dead. As does your father, your mother, I've passed the news along graciously. It's sad really, no one seems to grieve much for poor Draco Malfoy. No one seems to care."



Hot tears burned my eyes, "You're wrong! Someone cares!"



"Oh? Who then."



I watched my friends nearby. Even without hearing the words they spoke, I could tell they were upset. Crabbe seemed to be yelling about something, his brow furrowed in angry lines, his hands gesturing wildly. He always seemed a touch more animated when truly upset. And Goyle, as I turned my attention to him the boy stood from the desk and stepped wearily towards the lone window. Goyle's shoulders were hunched, his normally fantastic posture a quivering vision of it's usual self. His tan skin appeared pale, his features withdrawn, and, as I watched, the boy's fists involuntarily clenched and unclenched at his sides. I've never seen Goyle very upset or even particularly bothered by anything. He usually left that to me and Crabbe. I knew the two boys were gravely worried about something. They were worrying about me.



"Crabbe and Goyle care."



"Poor, poor Draco," Tom laughed again, wrapping his arm around my shoulder in an unwelcome embrace, "Don't you see? Sure, they care now. But how about a month from now, a year, five years, decades? Do you really think they'll keep trying? No, no, no Drac. They have school to think about, Quidditch practice, girls to tickle their fancies. But, Draco Malfoy? No, you'll only be a distant, fading memory, just like me. You won't matter to them anymore," Tom glared now, his cold eyes burning with contempt, "No one will remember you."



"You're wrong."



Tom sighed, "Trust me on this one. I would surely know better than anyone. But enough of that, don't worry your pretty little head over such trivialities," Tom's warm lips pressed against my cheek, sending shivers straight to my pounding heart, "They don't matter anymore. You've got me for company now and I've got you. No one's going to be alone anymore."



I flinched back away from Tom. He didn't seem to notice, his attention else ware. Tom watched Goyle and Crabbe, as if listening intently to their muted conversation. Perhaps Tom could hear them?



"What are they saying?"



"Oh, good show Gregory," Tom rolled his eyes dramatically, "Gosh these two are stubborn."



Whatever Goyle said, Crabbe was enrapt by the boy's words. My friends looked like they were plotting something.



Tom chuckled again, shaking his head to himself, "Looks like the big one's gonna cry. Tough guy, that one."



I noticed this before Tom and now I couldn't bring myself to look Goyle in the face. Having never seen either of my best friends cry, just the mere thought of it, I thought I might break down myself if I saw. And crying was not something I wanted to do in front of Tom Marvolo Riddle.



Then Goyle put his fist through the window.



Tom stopped smiling and raised an eyebrow, turning back to me, "A tad dramatic, don't you think?"



When I didn't respond, Tom turned his attention back to Goyle and continued, obviously trying to get a rise out of me, "Smart friend you got there, Drac. Doesn't the fool know he'll get hurt doing silly things like that? Or is this why they kept you around? To tell them when to grunt?"



"Fuck off," I shoved Tom to the side and stepped past him, moving to Goyle's side. The tall Slytherin boy held the wrist of his injured hand, watching the blood stream down from the fresh wounds with a blank look on his face. I watched the blood too, confused. It was brightly colored, unlike all the dull, muddy shades of everything around myself and Tom. In this hazy room, the blood stood out like a beacon even on Goyle's blurry fist.



"Why's it so bright?" I asked, turning back to Tom.



He now stood cross-armed and leaning against the wall beside the desk near the diary. The smirk on his face made him seem mildly amused but from the way his eyes narrowed at me as I stood near my injured friend, I could nearly feel Tom's jealousy. With our new strange link to each other, I was pretty sure I actually did feel it.



Tom merely shrugged at my question about the blood.



We both watched Goyle approach the desk again just then, Crabbe nearly scrambling out of his way. Tom remained, leaning ever-so casually against the wall only feet away. His smile faded as Goyle picked up a quill.



"Oh, would you just stop trying to write in the diary already? It's obviously not going to work-" Tom froze mid-sentence. I saw a sudden streak of dark anger carve across his normally reserved features. Goyle was doing something with the book, something that obviously worried Tom.



"You insolent fool! Give it up already!" Tom snapped as he peered over Goyle's shoulder down at the diary.



I moved up to the desk as well and followed Tom's gaze, watching the quill in Goyle's hand dance over the parchment. He was writing in the book and the words were actually staying on the page! Every time up until now, when my friends tried to write in the small leather bound book, their words just faded away, vanishing from the page. But now Goyle's writing seemed to glow and hover off the page with an eerie magical quality and it held fast to the aged parchment's smooth surface. I watched as he dabbed at the angry cuts on his fist, writing with his own blood as the ink:



'We will get Draco back. Whatever it takes.'



Tom growled low. Something about the bloody writing really bothered him. I didn't think it was just the words, either.



"You don't know my friends, not like I do," I smirked at the dark haired boy standing rigid with anger beside me, "You don't know just how far they'll go to get me back."



Tom broke his intense fixation on the diary page to shot me a look that could kill. Normally I'd shy back from him if he ever gave me such a hateful glare. But right now, after reading Goyle's words, I felt stronger. I felt like I could face even Tom Riddle.



"Is that so? Well what if they think you're... dead?" Tom scowled and quickly moved his hand over the diary. A pale white quill appeared from nowhere and he began to write. Words slowly formed below Goyle's messy crimson text in Tom's familiar black inked handwriting with all it's flourishes and scrolls:



'Draco Malfoy is dead.'



Crabbe quickly backed away from the desk as the words appeared. I couldn't hear anything my two friends said but I knew damn well Crabbe was cursing like a mad sailor. Goyle sat still, his face unreadable as he stared down at the diary page. Did they believe Tom? No, they couldn't... But I saw the tears brimming in Goyle's big brown eyes.



Tom just laughed.



The rage in me reached a boiling point. I felt my veins sear with indignation as I watched their horrified and shocked reactions. I wasn't going to let Tom play mind games with my friends. I wasn't going to let him hurt them anymore, no way no how! With that, I lunged at Tom Riddle, prying him away from my friends at the desk and dragging him further into the room. Completely caught off guard, Tom barely fought back at first. My first irate swing hit Tom in the stomach, knocking the wind from him as he still stumbled backwards.



"You-You LIAR!" I howled, enraged as I raised my fist again.



The second blow hit Tom square in the face. I didn't even know had that kind of strength in me. Perhaps it was the sudden burst of adrenaline rushing though my veins. Tom actually fell back to the stone floor of the dorm room, landing hard. His haughty demeanor faltered, making him seem more an equal than a supernatural force. But maybe not so much. With disbelief, I saw the wet, inky black streaks across his face from his fresh split lip and smashed nose. I felt it damp on my fist and stared down at my own hand. My knuckles were smeared with black, as if I had tipped over an inkwell. Tom's blood was... black.



"You little fucker!" Tom shrieked, holding his face where he lay.



An idea blinked on inside my head. Goyle's blood in the diary had worried Tom. Somehow my friend found a way to write on the page, whether on purpose or by happy accident. It was a writing that wouldn't fade, with his own blood. And now Tom's blood was on my hand. Blood that very much resembled the ink he wrote with.



If I could read Goyle's writing, then perhaps...



I rushed back to the desk were Goyle sat, my poor friend still blankly staring at the diary in front of him.



"Hope you can see this," I whispered, leaning over the book. I smeared Tom's blood on my index finger.



"What are you... NO!" Tom struggled to his feet.



I managed to write one word in large, bold letters across Tom's perfect handwriting before he collided with me.



'LIAR'



I had confidence Goyle would get the message, even if the 'R' had a long streak down the page where Tom had dragged me away from the diary. The furious Tom Riddle grasped me by my neck again, raising his hand high above his head.



"You'll regret that," Tom hissed, chanting something in a strange language as his eyes burned daggers into my own wide green eyes. I clutched at my throat, gasping for air. I was suddenly drowning. And no, I don't mean that as a fancy euphemism.



I was literally drowning.



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You'd think going from standing in a room and breathing air then, so instantaneously, floating completely submerged in bone-chilling water, you'd loose your shit.



Well, I nearly did.



After opening my eyes to the sting of cold water, I had enough sense to hold my breath and start swimming frantically upwards. Everything around me was dark and murky greenish black. It wasn't salt water, still the harsh bite of the cold forced me to shut my eyes again. My lungs screamed for air, my limbs spastically clawing at the icy water as I propelled myself up.



Have to get out of here! Up and out! How deep am I!? Where am I?!



Just when I thought my lungs would actually burst, having already breathed in one gulp of water when I first was submerged, I felt my hands break the surface in the water, then my face. I gasped, coughed, sputtered, bathed in the frozen air. After catching my breath, for the most part, I quickly wiped water from my eyes and stared wide eyed around me.



Seriously, where the fuck am I?



I floated smack dab in the center of a large body of water, very dark water. I was outside and it appeared to be night time still. The reflective surface of the water, other than where I had disturbed from my flailing, victorious escape, was as smooth as glass. Above me, clouds overshadowed a nearly full moon. The air was crisp with early winter. Still panting, I watched the moon peak out from the clouds and illuminate the shoreline yards away. I could see woods lining much of the shore and then... what appeared to be a hut nearby, the windows dark at this time of night. Hagrid's hut! I spun in the water and saw off to the side of the hut the menacing stone walls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.



"No bloody way," I breathed, spitting into the water, "How the fuck-"



I was in the middle of the lake outside Hogwarts.



The shore seemed incredibly far away from here. Nevertheless, I began treading water, swimming towards what I thought was the closest point, a spot of sand yards away from Hagrid's sad little hut. After what seemed like ten minutes, I had to stop and rest, gasping as the harsh cold air burned my throat.



"Not gonna make it," I wheezed to myself, tremors of shivers riddling my body from the icy waters, "There's no way..."



I'd never been a grand swimmer and this was proving to be seriously difficult, given the circumstances and the ground I had to cover. Correction! The nearly frozen water I had to swim through to get on solid ground.



I glanced up at the sky, wishing I had my damn broom.



Just then, something slithered up around my ankle beneath the dark water. Before I could even react, it had gripped my left leg and started pulling me downward.



"Oh fuck, no no NO!", I managed a gasp of air before slipping back under the surface.



The thing pulled me down incredibly fast, water rushing furious around my frozen body as I descended into the black depths below. No matter how I struggled, how I fought, I couldn't break free of the slimy thing wrapped tight around my leg. My lungs began to burn at the pressure of holding that last breath of air. My heart beat faster and faster as the water around me became impossibly black.



Now, I panicked.



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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please read my Updates in the first chapter for current info about good ol' me!