Those who deserve the most happiness become bitter when they feel
unloved, whether they really are or not. This feeling puts a cloud
over their hearts; it is a fog that never lifts, and only gets
thicker over time.
Lack of love is what makes the strong even stronger, and it is something that destroys the weak. Yet the strength gained comes at a price, for the flame that warmed their hearts grows cold. With this strength comes a hunger for power, a need to prove those who denied them love wrong. It is a thirst for revenge.
This thirst, this need fed Tom Riddle with an ever-growing sense of hatred and lust for power that was to one day transform him into Lord Voldemort. He became the very symbol of evil, all because he was denied the one thing that every human being secretly longs for: love.
His longing for this simple- yet in the same sense- complex gift led to millions of deaths, Wizard and Muggle alike. Love is a dangerous thing. To play with it is to play with fire, yet that is exactly What
I
Did.
I, Neville Longbottom, was to become one of the many victims of Lord Voldemort, and the only lover of Tom Riddle.
~*~
It started one cold night, days after Draco Malfoy (is it any surprise that one turned bad?) had captured me and delivered me into the hands of the most feared wizard of our time. Strangely, the first night I met Voldemort is a memory as clear to me now as when it was happening. But perhaps it was because of the pain? Pain. By that time, I really couldn't feel pain anymore. The bruises were still there- the aftereffects of being under the cruciatus- but I hadn't felt them for a long time.
Huddled in the corner of a dark cell, my body cold and shivering, my bruises throbbing dully, my mind beginning to climb its way out of fevered delirium, perhaps it is not so strange that I rememeber it so clearly after all. It had been six days since I had been brought there. Six days without food, and only some sort of dark slime, barely able to call itself water, to drink. Six days, and I was finally face to face with You-Know-Who himself.
"I give you two choices Longbottom," he'd said. "You will like neither, but feel lucky. I rarely allow anyone room for their own decisions."
I recall looking up, wondering why I, of all people, had been given this chance, and why I, of all wizards, had been imprisoned. Even then, I knew I was not special; I knew that among other wizards, I was something of a joke. So why was the Dark Lord giving me the opportunity to speak for myself?
I answered hesitantly. "I-I...thank you for that chance..." The words felt strange to my lips. I suspected it wasn't entirely because I hadn' t spoken for so long. Voldemort gave a bit of a chuckle, if such a sound can come from one so evil.
"You might not be so thankful once you hear my proposal." His laugh this time was mirthless. "Your first option is to remain in this cell, with enough food and drink to survive. You will be visited at my discretion for my own... pleasure... shall we say? I trust you understand my meaning when I say that." The Dark Lord lifted me up by my chin, appearing to size me up. I was frightened, and did not attempt to hide it. I was not, nor did I ever claim to be, brave.
"P-pleasure, sir?" I prayed this did not mean what I thought it did. Voldemort gave another serpentine chuckle at the word.
"Ironic isn't it, that one such as you could give me pleasure?" In truth, he couldn't wait to put his hands on the weak, pathetic little excuse for a Gryffindor that I was, if not only for the enjoyment, but for the satisfaction of breaking me. I was the potential other in the Prophecy. I was supposed to be the complete opposite of the dark side. But I was not to know of this until later.
I'd looked up at the Dark Lord then, and even in my half starved delirium I knew that Voldemort had a point in his remark. In his new young body he was frighteningly handsome, such that he could've been compared to Adonis himself! I did not understand why anyone, least of all... him, would want me. It was then that I realized there was no understanding this power hungry monster.
My second option turned out to be the ultimate punishment: death. I would stay in the cold cell with nothing. If I chose this I would be left alone completely, either to die or to be rescued. ...Rescue? I paused, repeating the word in my mind. That the idea even crossed my mind was laughable.
This would've been the choice, and the ultimate sacrifice, for a true Gryffindor. But of course, I was not one. In my heart, I had never found that legendary Gryffindor bravery. Not yet. It was no surprise; I had never felt it before. It was a choice I could not make. I wanted life. I wanted it, and at the time I was willing to pay any price for it.
"I..." I began, with the most of bravery I could muster. "I-I will...I choose... I want to live." And I saw the cruel grin spreading across his handsome features.
* * * "Ennervate!"
The spell, followed by a rough kick to my stomach, jerked me up from my blissful world of black, and I realized that I had probably fallen unconsciousness.
"Up!" the guard hissed again, as if I were no more than a dog to be ordered about. But perhaps there was some truth to that sentiment, for I certainly had no more rights than a dog would.
I was marched up a winding staircase, lit only by a few scattered torches. There were no windows.
"Where are we going?" I asked, my voice strained from lack of use.
"Not your place to ask questions," my guard grumbled, tightening his already firm grip on my wrist. I was surprised he hadn't bothered to tie me up. Then I realized binding my hands would have served little purpose anyways, for my feet were already chained.
Walking was slow and difficult. After a long and tiring hike up what must have been six or more flights of stairs, we stopped in front of an iron door.
I was thrown against the wall as the nameless guard searched for the right key. At last he found the one he was looking for. Once the door was unlocked I was shoved in, with no explanation. The door was again locked and I heard his footsteps as he headed further along the corridor.
I surveyed my new room, if it could be called that. There was a small bed shoved carelessly into the back left corner, with handcuffs on either side. I shuddered, thinking of what twisted purpose those might serve. There was also a rusting chamber pot and a small window. The ceiling was high and the window was only a few inches below it.
I couldn't look out the window, but at least it offered a bit of light. I was grateful for any small comfort at that point. I had no hope of rescue. Even if anyone had bothered to come after me, they would have a hard time finding me here.
My only hope was that Voldemort would forget about me, as unlikely as I knew it would be. He was the type of leader- I hated to think of him like that that, but that was what he was- who would store up even the most trivial bits of information in case they would prove useful later.
I got no sleep that night, other than my brief loss of consciousness. I couldn't bring myself to sleep on the lumpy mattress, so I spent the night lying on the cold stone floor, staring at the small window, pondering my fate.
As the first hint of light came in through my small window I heard my door creak open.
I don't know why I bothered to turn. I knew it would be him.
"I imagine you wonder why I choose you. It seems almost weak of me to want you so, but even the greatest need a little... sport." He gave that unnerving grin, and came towards me.
~*~ Disclaimer: the usual. Note: Does anyone know how to submit html-formatted documents onto ff.net using Microsoft Word? I tried saving it as "text-only", as a "web page", and as "normal", even with the tags, but it always either comes out *with* the tags or with a bunch of unrecognizable symbols. Help!
Lack of love is what makes the strong even stronger, and it is something that destroys the weak. Yet the strength gained comes at a price, for the flame that warmed their hearts grows cold. With this strength comes a hunger for power, a need to prove those who denied them love wrong. It is a thirst for revenge.
This thirst, this need fed Tom Riddle with an ever-growing sense of hatred and lust for power that was to one day transform him into Lord Voldemort. He became the very symbol of evil, all because he was denied the one thing that every human being secretly longs for: love.
His longing for this simple- yet in the same sense- complex gift led to millions of deaths, Wizard and Muggle alike. Love is a dangerous thing. To play with it is to play with fire, yet that is exactly What
I
Did.
I, Neville Longbottom, was to become one of the many victims of Lord Voldemort, and the only lover of Tom Riddle.
~*~
It started one cold night, days after Draco Malfoy (is it any surprise that one turned bad?) had captured me and delivered me into the hands of the most feared wizard of our time. Strangely, the first night I met Voldemort is a memory as clear to me now as when it was happening. But perhaps it was because of the pain? Pain. By that time, I really couldn't feel pain anymore. The bruises were still there- the aftereffects of being under the cruciatus- but I hadn't felt them for a long time.
Huddled in the corner of a dark cell, my body cold and shivering, my bruises throbbing dully, my mind beginning to climb its way out of fevered delirium, perhaps it is not so strange that I rememeber it so clearly after all. It had been six days since I had been brought there. Six days without food, and only some sort of dark slime, barely able to call itself water, to drink. Six days, and I was finally face to face with You-Know-Who himself.
"I give you two choices Longbottom," he'd said. "You will like neither, but feel lucky. I rarely allow anyone room for their own decisions."
I recall looking up, wondering why I, of all people, had been given this chance, and why I, of all wizards, had been imprisoned. Even then, I knew I was not special; I knew that among other wizards, I was something of a joke. So why was the Dark Lord giving me the opportunity to speak for myself?
I answered hesitantly. "I-I...thank you for that chance..." The words felt strange to my lips. I suspected it wasn't entirely because I hadn' t spoken for so long. Voldemort gave a bit of a chuckle, if such a sound can come from one so evil.
"You might not be so thankful once you hear my proposal." His laugh this time was mirthless. "Your first option is to remain in this cell, with enough food and drink to survive. You will be visited at my discretion for my own... pleasure... shall we say? I trust you understand my meaning when I say that." The Dark Lord lifted me up by my chin, appearing to size me up. I was frightened, and did not attempt to hide it. I was not, nor did I ever claim to be, brave.
"P-pleasure, sir?" I prayed this did not mean what I thought it did. Voldemort gave another serpentine chuckle at the word.
"Ironic isn't it, that one such as you could give me pleasure?" In truth, he couldn't wait to put his hands on the weak, pathetic little excuse for a Gryffindor that I was, if not only for the enjoyment, but for the satisfaction of breaking me. I was the potential other in the Prophecy. I was supposed to be the complete opposite of the dark side. But I was not to know of this until later.
I'd looked up at the Dark Lord then, and even in my half starved delirium I knew that Voldemort had a point in his remark. In his new young body he was frighteningly handsome, such that he could've been compared to Adonis himself! I did not understand why anyone, least of all... him, would want me. It was then that I realized there was no understanding this power hungry monster.
My second option turned out to be the ultimate punishment: death. I would stay in the cold cell with nothing. If I chose this I would be left alone completely, either to die or to be rescued. ...Rescue? I paused, repeating the word in my mind. That the idea even crossed my mind was laughable.
This would've been the choice, and the ultimate sacrifice, for a true Gryffindor. But of course, I was not one. In my heart, I had never found that legendary Gryffindor bravery. Not yet. It was no surprise; I had never felt it before. It was a choice I could not make. I wanted life. I wanted it, and at the time I was willing to pay any price for it.
"I..." I began, with the most of bravery I could muster. "I-I will...I choose... I want to live." And I saw the cruel grin spreading across his handsome features.
* * * "Ennervate!"
The spell, followed by a rough kick to my stomach, jerked me up from my blissful world of black, and I realized that I had probably fallen unconsciousness.
"Up!" the guard hissed again, as if I were no more than a dog to be ordered about. But perhaps there was some truth to that sentiment, for I certainly had no more rights than a dog would.
I was marched up a winding staircase, lit only by a few scattered torches. There were no windows.
"Where are we going?" I asked, my voice strained from lack of use.
"Not your place to ask questions," my guard grumbled, tightening his already firm grip on my wrist. I was surprised he hadn't bothered to tie me up. Then I realized binding my hands would have served little purpose anyways, for my feet were already chained.
Walking was slow and difficult. After a long and tiring hike up what must have been six or more flights of stairs, we stopped in front of an iron door.
I was thrown against the wall as the nameless guard searched for the right key. At last he found the one he was looking for. Once the door was unlocked I was shoved in, with no explanation. The door was again locked and I heard his footsteps as he headed further along the corridor.
I surveyed my new room, if it could be called that. There was a small bed shoved carelessly into the back left corner, with handcuffs on either side. I shuddered, thinking of what twisted purpose those might serve. There was also a rusting chamber pot and a small window. The ceiling was high and the window was only a few inches below it.
I couldn't look out the window, but at least it offered a bit of light. I was grateful for any small comfort at that point. I had no hope of rescue. Even if anyone had bothered to come after me, they would have a hard time finding me here.
My only hope was that Voldemort would forget about me, as unlikely as I knew it would be. He was the type of leader- I hated to think of him like that that, but that was what he was- who would store up even the most trivial bits of information in case they would prove useful later.
I got no sleep that night, other than my brief loss of consciousness. I couldn't bring myself to sleep on the lumpy mattress, so I spent the night lying on the cold stone floor, staring at the small window, pondering my fate.
As the first hint of light came in through my small window I heard my door creak open.
I don't know why I bothered to turn. I knew it would be him.
"I imagine you wonder why I choose you. It seems almost weak of me to want you so, but even the greatest need a little... sport." He gave that unnerving grin, and came towards me.
~*~ Disclaimer: the usual. Note: Does anyone know how to submit html-formatted documents onto ff.net using Microsoft Word? I tried saving it as "text-only", as a "web page", and as "normal", even with the tags, but it always either comes out *with* the tags or with a bunch of unrecognizable symbols. Help!