You can't really call Nikita's memories colourful because they truly aren't, there's only the black and white of scores, the black and white of the key board, the black and white of photographies, shown to him by his bitter, proud father.

However, in some way Nikita's memories are colourful, look at all these different personalities surrounding him, sparkling like gem stones, azure and crimson and lilac and rosé. There is his father, full of love to give but donating most of it to a dead woman, there are his piano teachers, their intense eyes full of astonishment and doubt and envy, there is his audience, various kinds of characters but all of them with a reputation to polish until it's shimmering even more than theyself are doing.

But they aren't anything compared to Nikita's classmates, whose pearly, faked smiles are glistening like the most precious diamonds, rosy cheeks showing dimples and tired eyes showing nothing. They're already dead in the inside but they are still radiating glimpses of what could have been, ruby and sapphire and emerald. Some may be still alive but most of them are already drowned in Tom Riddle's darkness or in their fear of him, suffocated by strings they as his puppets are hanging on even though they try to hide them - and oh, it is so easy to believe that they've acted on their own, not spotting the strings, translucent as they are.

The puppeteer, Tom Marvolo Riddle, is with no means the most impressive personality which has ever coexisted next to Nikita's.

His obsidian-tinted hair resembling the colour of his rotten soul - not that there'd be much left of it -, cheek bones, higher than Vasili's expections to Nikita, eyes in the same cold shade as the sky after a storm, a jaw line sharper than Rowena Ravenclaw's wits, his teint nearly as pale as his victims' - you'd think that one would detect Tom's true, horrifying nature when even his pristine looks show the devil behind the mask of a human. But Tom is a master in selling himself as perfect, a god in fooling others - but even a god gets fooled, especially if he believes to be able to live forever.

Look at the giant Uranus, grandfather of the almighty Zeus, being killed of his own son, Kronos, who gets killed of his own son, Zeus, who lives in constant fear of getting killed of his own son.

And when not even immortals are enabled to keep their immortatility, how should a mortal manage to do so? You'll always chase a phantom of a life, if you'll continue on your way, Tom. Listen to Nikita, listen closely - but it's much too early for this, excuse me.

In the very moment, both Tom and Nikita are listening to Professor Slughorn who's telling them about today's topic of class, not caring about the dull eyes of most of his students', who're imprisoned in their daydreams of enjoying the golden rays of the warm September sun, slumbering in lush meadows, butterflies tickling their noses. However, no matter how intense their imagination is, they're still stuck in the dungeons, what means breathing clammy air, walking on a floor as cold as Tom's heart and trying to slouch on benches which aren't much softer than Nikita's glares can be, angry blue eyes piercing into your soul.

"Today's class is about the probably most dangerous potion on Earth, Amortentia. Tom, m'boy, I see, you know more about it?"

Nikita's listening to Tom's voice, listing fact over fact to the love potion. Nikita'd also have been able to add something to Slughorn's vague description of Amortentia, after all he's quite decent in Potions and this particular one is rather intrigueing but he wouldn't have known as much as the Riddle boy does, leaving Nikita in a comfortable state of quiet appreciation.

It is always very impressive to listen to what Tom has to say, not only in class but in general - however, in class he is often stating facts Nikita - and sometimes even the teacher - hasn't heard of before, and Nikita, being the curious wizard he is, frequently writes down what Tom's uttering, just like now. Nikita adores the other boy's knowledge, he's quite certain that Tom has to be a pureblood because of the immense ammount of facts he's holding in his tight grasp to only relieve them when the time's come.

How wrong Nikita is with this assumption! Filthy blood is streaming through Tom's body, driving him mad - why can't his blood be pure? But it just isn't, quite like his heart.

When Slughorn has ended praising Tom, he starts writing down the pairs which'll work together to brew the love potion. The chalk's leaving thick lines on the blackboard, proclaiming the pairings SLughorn wants for this project.

Quietly, Nikita stands up from his table, making his way to the front of the rows of benches, until he stands next to Tom Riddle who's already waiting for him, gesturing Abraxas Malfoy to free his seat and to finally pair up with Xerxes Lovegood, who's waving at Abraxas with crimson cheeks.

It isn't unusual for Nikita and Tom to be paired up, the teachers like their working dynamics which is resulting in excellent grades and more than just well-done presentations, essays and potions.

Tom mostly is the one to present what the two've been working on, after all everybody knows of his charme and knack for bewitching his audience - and he doesn't want this to be changed, Tom doesn't want his audience to become Nikita's audience and neither is Nikita wanting this. Presenting, speaking, acting - performing - in front a crowd reminds him too much of playing for his wealthy audience and Nikita doesn't like that.

However, when Tom and Nikita are working on their projects and one of them is presenting the other one what they've already done so each of them can listen to their work and criticise it to increase its perfection, Tom is always stunned by Nikita's presence when putting on his mask to perform, the complete change of his personality, his aura, alone his way to walk.

Watching this change from close is impressive, nearly terrifying, seeing how one gets rid of the robe which's imitating an average human being, revealing the individual who's used to aim for gods.

For Tom, who's nearly a god himself, it is everything but comforting to see somebody getting so close to his glorious status of existence without an evident of struggle. If it wasn't Tom Riddle of whom we're talking, you'd even say that it might be scaring him - him, who'll invent fear new.

And what maybe is the point which is making Tom uncomfortable the most is the fact, that even he can't tell if Nikita's wearing a mask when performing or when not.

Is Nikita Pavlov going to be a god like Tom Riddle or is he just acting as if?

"Hello, Riddle", Nikita greets his partner after sitting down besides him, Abraxas has finally left for Xerxes, causing the Lovegood boy to blush even harder.

Tom groans. "You know that it isn't necessary to always greet me only because we haven't spoken before."

"Well, it isn't necessary to not greet me, Riddle, and it is much more impolite than doing so." Nikita's piercing eyes meet Tom's menacing ones, and then, the blond cracks a smile - just for practice of course but nevertheless startling Tom who's used to Nikita's quite stern expression. "You could just talk to me before we're paired up, then I would already have greeted you."

Nobody is really speaking to Nikita if he isn't initiating it, the boy is often by himself and he couldn't care less about it, however, sometimes he just wants to talk, have a chat with actual retorts and not only the voice of his father to scold him whenever doing something wrong or thinking of maybe practicing but already knowing that he probably won't.

"Well, you see, Pavlov, once I've talked to you before and you've still greeted me, so I don't think this'll be the solution to our problems."

"I wouldn't call them 'problems', after all I'm merely polite to your unfriendly arse."

"Now, after we've resolved this, let's start with the work. I hope you've listened to my description of the potion?" Unlike my followers.

Nikita shows his with narrow letters filled parchment, using it like a fan. "Actually, I've written all of your awestrucking wisdom down, so I'll always be able to wallow in the pure perfection of your monologue. Its colour is characteristical for Amortentia", Nikita reads out loud while Tom is rolling his slate eyes. "There is a poet slumbering in you who only waits to be awaken."

"You're a dork", Tom states matter-of-factly, he's already preparing parchment and quill to write down what they'll plan today, this hour is mainly to set a schedule because Amortentia is a complicated potion to make so they'll have to work very, very precisely and diligently.

"But let's be real, your knowledge is really impressive." Nikita puts the parchment to the edge of the table so it won't disturb their work. "If I'm allowed to have the thingamajigs?" Nikita points at Tom's quill and parchment.

"Sure, go ahead." He passes them, Nikita's mostly the one to plan their projects anyways.

"Okay, so, I'd do this and this and this", Nikita mutters, continueing to murmur 'and this' while scribbling his thoughts down, his voice as soft as freshly fallen snow.

In the meanwhile, Tom's watching him, waiting until it's his time to act.

Because sometimes it's the devils time to rest

and watch the world burn.