(DISCLAIMER: All characters and the whole Harry Potter franchise - except for Jeremiah Hallysworn, Mallory Evans, Alice Urie [plus a few other more characters I haven't decided to get into the story yet] - belong to none other than J. K. Rowling)

'Si che puoi capire questo vediamoci preso la stanza delle necessitá.'

~Alicia

(I know you can understand this, meet me at the Room of Requirement.)

Tom Riddle was curious; it was frustrating to him how he did not know the purpose of Alice's request. The fact that the note was written in Italian made it more suspicious.

There had to be something up. Alice was not the one to request for someone else's presence. He knew she preferred working alone.

They had not made contact for about a week now. He was surprised when he felt a sense of familiarity as his own fingers brushed against hers even though it was just for the purpose of passing a note.

Soft, her hands were. This would be quite expected from someone so poised and feminine. You would expect that the feeling you'd get from her fingers would be nothing but vulnerability, instead there was the force of her pushing the piece of folded parchment into his hand.

Hard, forceful, harsh – three words you would use to explain Alice's life for the past few years.

Three words you could possibly describe Tom's childhood as well.

Both have the same experience, but different approaches. Is that the point?

No, Tom thought.

"Alicia...," he let his tongue slither as he said her Italian name. He was walking to the Slytherin common room. Dinner had just finished and he just couldn't fathom the fact that Alice was the one to request for a meeting, and not him.

Derived from the Portuguese translation of Alice - Alicea.

Alice, Greek for the adjective "truth".

His thoughts mixed with one another forming one speculation: she used Italian to show off her name.

She used it to let him notice it; to think on it; to let his mind wonder around the name.

Tom knew there was more to the letter than he had seemed. The letter also gave the reason for her request.

Alice, the Greek word for truth.*

Alice was going to tell him the truth.

"Brilliant," he whispered under his breathe as he stops in front of the Common Room.

People would think he would be admiring the portrait, or scheming another attack on muggleborn wizards, but it wasn't.

He was just admiring the mind of another individual.

Tom never does that.

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Alice was completely still, not even twitching any muscle. Outside, you would see her as composed and elegant, poised and appealing, however you would describe it; but on the inside, her heart was pounding so loud and so fast, she feared it may result to cardiac arrest.

That would be so much easier, she thought.

If I had died now, I wouldn't have to talk to him.

Suicidal as it may sound, it truly isn't suicidal. Alice Urie, a girl of sixteen, born of both British and Italian descent, had a brother who died beside her, spent two years in Britain not moving forward in any way at all, it's understandable that after she's been through all that, she was bound to be hesitant on opening up to probably anyone.

And to open up to someone like Tom Riddle? Outrageous? Alice would describe it as beyond that.

Alice had her insides twisting. This was definitely a bad idea, she thought nervously to herself. Her palms started to sweat and some had even accumulated at her forehead.

This is the most nervous Alice had been in her life. Nervousness was not common. She always knew what to say and what to do. Now she was hoping for a savior.

She never does that.

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Thet could practically sense each other's presence from about a mile
away.

Tom's footsteps became more prominent compared to the quiet and nimble steps everyone had come to know, but the seemingly constant and tough sounding rhythm was what made it possible for Alice to know.

Palpitating, their hearts matched each others', almost like fate had brought this certain happening. The only thing to watch out for, now, is which of the two heartbeats continues and which of them stops.

Except, none of them do.

The door slowly materialized and Tom Riddle entered the room, wanting to know everything.

A furnace was lit. Alice was seated on the floor with her legs folded. Her hands were placed upon her lap and it was all silent. Nothing was heard but the crackling of the fire and the door of the Room of Requirement closing.

"Have you ever experienced extreme depression over the fact you've lost something so important to you?" Alice softly spoke, in the hopes of not wanting to start any disagreement nor a sour taste in the conversation, but her own tone just had disaccord with her plan.

It was an obvious answer, but she wanted a bit of reassurance that she wasn't insane.

"I haven't," his voice projected loudly and clearly.

"How are you so sure of your answer? Because to be honest, I don't know what I'm supposed to be telling you at this moment," said Alice. She pulled her knitted sweater farther in; she requested the room to get colder and it's so ironic how she wanted to keep warm.

Alice was confused. All of this was so puzzling, it was becoming tiresome.

Tom had spoken once more, "Then why ask for my presence?" It was almost as if he demanded the answer, he really.

The world was blurring by the second as Alice's focus was deteriorating. Should she tell him? An acquaintance. When she didn't even consult her closest of friends.

"I've been thinking lately," she started, feeling nausea coming around the corner as she did. "About how us humans are actually the most vile creatures to ever roam the surface of the earth." She took a deep breath before actually looking at him and patting the spot at her side.

"You called me to talk about humans?" He asked with a sneer. Alice ignored it and looked at him with demanding eyes. He simply just went to that spot, not sitting down.

"I wanted to know whether or not you agree to my statement," she replied and looked back into the fire.

Tom thought for a while. Looking into it, the world would be confused about his actions, wondering whether he's stalling on purpose or just really thinking about it, but Alice would know.

"It's true to some extent," he said and extended his first two words. 

"To some extent? It could go beyond that, for all I know," Alice inserted right before Tom could continue, which, in turn, caused him to scowl at her.

"Would you like my opinion or not?" he sneered again then looked back at flames provided by the furnace.

"My apologies," a retort was sent by Alice harshly before actually looking up to him. "I did not intend to upset you. If this is the case, well, you could leave. There is nothing stopping you, really."

He continued to scowl into the fire. He would've expected something more of a cowering quiver from Alice any minute now, but what the girl did completely caught him off gaurd. She chuckled and she didn't even try to stifle or restrain it.

"It's no use, I guess," Alice sounded delusional. She sounded mad, crazy, over-the-bend, bonkers, anything to say she sounded insane.  So what if I am crazy? No one would care. Besides, all the best people are crazy.

"I've already upset you, there's no use in trying to minimize the damage,"  she stood up, her arm brushing against Tom's as she did, and look at him in the eye.

"I'm sorry for the way I acted towards you that other day," said Alice, "it was wrong of me to think you were having ill thoughts about what you could do with the information I give you."

"Apology accepted," Tom replied immediately.

Both their faces held different unnamed emotions. Just as one dances upon their face, another comes along before they could even name it.

"Brendon . . ."

Alice knew she was hallucinating. But this was a better way. She had to.

It was so real. The person beside her was no longer Tom Riddle.

Every inch of Brendon's seemingly perfect face was there, standing right in front of her and staring back at her.

"What?" Tom asked in confusion. Was she in some sort of trance? Is she ill? What was in the conversation that could have possibly triggered the girl?

But to Alice, it wasn't Tom's voice that sounded in her ears. Tom's was quick, manipulative and authoritive, and had the British accent, of course.

Brendon was, well, Alice didn't find the right words to say but Brendon was the greatest man in the world. His voice was like an angel's and god, how it made Alice want to cry.

But she knew it was all an illusion. The way how Brendon had his eyebrows knitted together and how his lips pursed when he thought about things, it was all a shadow of a memory. These memories played in Alice's mind again and again.

"Don't talk, Tom. It'll only make it worse."

"What-"

"I said just don't," and with that, Tom was silent all over.

For the first time, Alice's voice sent chills down his spine. It shook his thoughts with loud, violent tremors.

Alice never knew she could ever get Tom Riddle to be in such a state wherein he seemed to be fearing what was to come. She knew he probably thinks they are equally powerful, excelling in different aspects but powerful all the same. This is where his true fear showed: fear of the unknown. If Alice knew better, she'd think it to be the behavior of  Ravenclaw.

But he wasn't. He was a Slytherin, and those people usually fear the probability of failure.

Prideful pompous ass he is.

"He was my brother," she finally broke the intense silence. "And oh, I loved him so."

Tom visibly cringed at the word 'love'. It was so strange to hear it. It was so foreign to his ears. Tom thought would be normal for a girl to fantasize and be open about someone the person she would be talking to barely knew. But the thing is, Alice isn't open.

Tom's eyes snapped to look at her and narrowed expectantly in Alice's point of view.

"You didn't just love him," he said, realization coming with such unnecessarily strong tension, "you were in love with him."

Alice directed her stare at him, the face of her brother gone, before the fire suddenly extinguished upon her wish.

"It always broke me," she said, her voice dripping with pain and misery, in contrast to her face which had nothing at all.

"That fateful day when that idiot just tried to cheat in a chess game," she clenched her fists and took a few steps  just to distance herself from the man who reminds her so damn much about the boy that just the thought of would bring pain crashing down on her.

Tom only stared at her back, not knowing what to do or what he should do.

"So I just cleaned up, with all the lies and the books," Alice said with her voice shaky, "to make me look civilized."

Tom looked down after that. He felt some sort of aching at his chest, as if something was pulling at strings.

He knew what that felt like. He knew because he felt it, too. He felt pain. And covering it up with nothing but lies and faux decency? Tom didn't know where to start with that.

"Maybe I haven't experienced great depression over the loss of something of great importance,"it was the first time Tom spoke to Alice sounding so pained, "but I do know what pain feels like."

"Old friend?"

Alice was sniffing.

"Might as well call him that."

Tom hated how accurate Alice's words were. It felt like a extremely serrated knife that tugged in all directions Tom imagined would be the pain one would feel if the Cruciatus curse was cast upon him or her.

Alice finally looked back at the Slytherin, only, she didn't see the rueful pompous ass she had programmed her mind to see all the time. No, he was much much more different.

Dishevelled facial features, eyes basking in the glory of unseen emotion, lips slightly open due to the inability of sure words and proper speech — no, this wasn't Mr. Tom Riddle.

"Tom?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm going to try something, if you don't mind."

Tom agreed.

The girl rushed to him and wrapped her arms around a form a little taller than she was (a few mere inches, give or take).

He put his arms around her form, too.

Alice let tears flow freely down her cheeks.

He's just a boy, he's not a hero.

He smiled inwardly as he realized this indeed was the first time she called him "Tom" instead of  "Mr. Tom Riddle" or just "Riddle".

And just then, they both knew, the flatline experienced a disturbance.

They'll carry on.

(*Alice doesn't actually translate to the Greek word for truth, but for the sake of this story, let's imagine it does -rip)

;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;

(Thank you to AmeliaMendez for correcting my horribly translated Italian statements!)

Okay, so things got a little sad for me when I wrote this chapter, plus, I only started listening to MCRx at that time and yeah.

As always, please do vote and comment if you can. Positive feedback is always appreciated and I'll see you in the next chapter, bye!

~tuffhufflepuff

P.S. FVCK 2016, HELLO 2017, LET IT BE BETTER PLEAAAASE
P.P.S Unedited hahahaha