there are strangers and companions for everyone. whether they be fear, love, anger, or sorrow. some children grow up not knowing what it meant to be loved, some children never knew the feeling of anger at the world, some never knew what it meant to be afraid. yet some children could never shake those same reins free; horror making companions of children and warping how they see the world.

tom riddle grew up never knowing what it was to be loved. therefore he never knew how to love. how could he ever know the difference. he grew up obsessive. always hungry for something more but the world would always say no. afraid that before he could be something great he'd slip into nothingness and be forgotten.

he had always heard the stories, of course. stories and fairytales of how a woman could change the world. you'd just have to meet the right person and reality would become soft around the edges and happiness would bloom from the flowers. the sharp edges of pain would cease and you'd no longer possess the capability of existential dread.

all of it was lies. lies that made bitterness root itself deeper in his heart. lies that cemented his beliefs and guided his actions. life was a chess game he was hellbent on winning and he couldn't allow for distractions.

tom had been successful. in all his twenty two years of living his heart never swayed as greed festered and infected him. he wanted the world and he didn't mind burning it in the process if it meant he'd have a throne.

but... there was always a but.

she was going to ruin everything and he wondered if she even knew it. valeria malfoy. a woman he thought about killing on more than one occasion. part of him was almost convinced she wouldn't mind.