prompt: tom doesn’t quite know what that strange feeling is inside his chest.
please refrain from plagiarizing my work!
They had no idea why, but she was off-limits.
They could harm and terrorize and badger every single person in the castle that they wanted, but unless they wanted to be found in the dungeons either petrified or with their skin turned inside out, they had to stay away from her; the half-blood in Ravenclaw whose brain teemed with endless unconventional ideas and had far too many of them for anyone to ever understand. The students of Hogwarts had many names for her. The weird one. Lady Looney. Some just called her crazy, and they weren't afraid to say it to her face.
But the Knights of Walpurgis—the band of cold, ruthless Slytherins under the command of the handsome Tom Riddle—weren't allowed to lay a single finger on her. They were not allowed to speak both of her and to her. They were only barely permitted to look at her, as long as they didn't do so in Tom's presence.
And they had no idea why.
But they knew better than to go against Tom. They knew what he was capable of—had seen it unfold far too many times right in front of their very eyes. They were well aware that if any of them ever dared do something to displease him, they would suffer unimaginable consequences, most of which involved torture, and in some cases, death. And for some unknown reason, Tom Riddle was willing to inflict those consequences onto anyone who hurt [Y/N].
The entire castle knew of how odd she was and almost half of the students mocked her for it. Tom couldn't terrorize half of the school—not without drawing unwanted attention to himself. So he only did so to a select few. Caroline Dover, who had publicly humiliated [Y/N] in the Great Hall, could not utter a single word to anyone for two whole weeks and was said to have started screaming in her sleep. No one knew why. Derek Higgins, who had jinxed [Y/N] in the hallway and made her head double in size, left Hogwarts two days later for no apparent reason. Rumor said he'd left for Durmstrang. And just like Caroline Dover's odd behavior, no one knew why.
But Tom's followers did. They knew that he had lured Caroline Dover into the dungeons and tortured her there for what must have been four entire hours—the poor girl had writhed on the cold stone floor, calling for help that did not come as Tom stood over her with his wand in his hand and a bored expression on his face.
Similarly, Derek Higgins was lured to the dungeons and had suffered the same fate—if not worse. Caroline was a pure-blood, but Derek had Muggle parents, and for this Tom had made sure to carve the words "dirty blood" on his shoulder blades using his wand, after which Derek was tortured into the night.
All because they hurt an odd girl from Ravenclaw.
—
[Y/N] didn't know it, but hidden in the shadows almost wherever she went, there lurked a boy.
A boy whose heart should have felt nothing—had felt nothing for as long as he could remember—but sped up in his chest whenever he saw her. And it wasn't out of anger or fear or the horrific satisfaction he'd feel from inflicting pain—no, it was something that he couldn't quite place. Something other than every other negative feeling he'd felt his entire life. Something he couldn't quite put a name to.
A normal person would have called it love. But Tom Riddle was far from normal, and he had no inkling of what love was, or what it felt like.
A normal person would have acted on it and confessed; they would have gone up to the person, cheeks tinged pink, and with butterflies flitting around inside their stomach, they would have admitted to fancying them. If they got lucky, they would someday lay in bed with them, limbs tangled around each other's as their eyes glowed with the embers of entire galaxies, murmuring words of affection that only one another could hear.
But Tom Riddle was far from normal, and he acted on that odd, nameless feeling inside his chest by brutally torturing anyone who dared to hurt her. A part of him hoped that she noticed. Desperately. He yearned for her attention, even if he didn't want to admit it—he hoped that one day she'd look up from the book she always clutched in her hands, find his eyes in the shadows, and.. do something. Anything.
She never did. And Tom was okay with that.
He was okay with protecting her without her ever knowing, and without him ever realizing why. That odd feeling inside his chest was telling him to, so he did. He killed and tortured and ruined people for her; for the strange half-blooded Ravenclaw that could never defend herself even if she tried.
summary: Chosen as a volunteer pair to demonstrate a duel, Y/N Y/L/N and Tom Riddle were chosen. The talented witch and gifted wizard head-on-head, if only their peers know what happens behind the scenes.
word count: 1.7k+
warning: Sexual Tension ??
note: this has been sitting in my drafts and mind for wayyyy too long, ‘m just gonna let it breathe.
Chatters of the students resounded from the confinement of the stone walls, sizzling of the fire warmed the air like cracklings of fireworks as it bounced around. Eyes glancing to the raised stage as an elderly figure approached the middle of the wooden platform, her soft, gentle ocean eyes analyzing the lot who stared at her with curious orbs.
“Gather round,” The students paced closer towards the stage, surrounding the professor. “I have been granted permission by Headmaster Dippet to conduct this duel. Now, hear me very clearly. This is an aid for your own defence, against malicious possibilities that you may encounter,”
Heads were quick to whip around, smug smirks were sent to one another while others were quick to fear for what to come. The white-blond glanced at his superior, breath hitched when he noticed the barely noticeable smirk that played on his lips. Opinions were passed around, thoughts on the said-duel. The babbling that left the room evaporated back in as if it had never disappeared. With a swish of a wand zipped the opened mouths, silence engulfing the room; Galatea nodded, a content smile smeared onto her lips- proud with her smart choice.
“Good. Now, a volunteer pair,” Twirling at a slow pace, her eyes scanned the room with no particular one in mind. Body coming to a halt when two familiar heads stood in her view, catching her attention. “Y/N Y/L/N and Tom Riddle, come on up,”
Forced claps erupted from the male prefect’s social circle, as they watched Tom climbing up the stairs. The Ravenclaw house cheered for their prefect, her friends clasping her shoulders as a sign of hope and good luck. She nodded, sending a faint smile to her peers before walking up towards the platform.
“Wonderful,” The ageing professor mumbled when the two prefects stood where she wanted them. Taking a safe distance away from the duel to broaden her view- she stood at one end of the platform, chin high as she sets her expectations high, confident with her choice. Knowing the two brilliant students had somewhat the same level of gift in magic. “Wands at the ready!”
Holding his wand in front of his Greek-god chiselled face, Tom smugly smirked- having no doubt he would be winning the challenge, “Feels like last night, rings a bell?”
The events of last night played in her head, flashes of the highlights caused her to roll her eyes at his annoying boldness that, might as well, be the oldest thing that seemed to walk on the world, “Which one? You holding a wand at me or me over you?”
The corners of his lips twitched to quirk up, annoyed at her unexpected comeback that somehow caught him off-guard. Flicking her wand to hover over her face, a sign of readiness. She sent a barely noticeable wink that only the opponent Slytherin seemed to catch. Irritated with her behaviour, he snapped his wrist, pointing the wooden yew stick towards the floor; huffing at the absence of unsureness in her eyes.
Following suit, Y/N flicked her wand to rest her arm beside her body, not forgetting to send a taunting smile at the opposition prefect. The only supervisor ordered, “The accepted combative position,” The two chosen pair did so, bowing their heads- eyes still lingered on one another, the eye contact still maintaining and never broken, in hopes of provoking the other. They whirled around, back facing each other to place a stretched between each other. Swishing back with wands ready. “On the count of three, the duel shall commence. Remember, demonstrate defence and protection, only,”
Eyes glossed over the two figures, head craning up to gaze the anticipated battle. “One- two- three-“ Galatea counted, the words slipped off her tongue as she let a beat linger between each number.
And as expected, with no hesitation and with composed thoughts, Tom cried, “Expelliarmus!” A shimmering scarlet light pointed to the Ravenclaw.
With quick thinking, she yelled to defend herself, “Protego!” Like an invisible wall, the spell sent by the Slytherin prefect was countered with her own. Those who watched, eyes widening at the quick incline of tension.
Professor Galatea wore a dim smile, arms crossed to watch the what-she-hoped would be an extensive duel between the capable students. The slicked haired Slytherin maintain his posture, jaw clenching at her quick reflex; his grip on his wand tightened.
“Depulso!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, Tom’s eyes widened at her swift compulsion; the spell hit him square in the chest, and like a powerful punch- his breath hitched in shock before he could even realize what was going on. His body flew back, a muffled clash as the thin carpet softened his landing. His hands pressed onto the floor, eyes that could not process what was happening.
Gasps and winces (not from the victim) echoed through the room, his head snapped up to face her with disbelief. Who replied back with an equal amount of confusion that vanished without her realization, the original smirk playing on her lips. He pushed himself from the ground with an irritated huff, swatting the thin layer of dust that coated his pants. His eyes glimpsed towards his house members, noticing their gaped open mouth.
This was not how he saw it. His assumption was by the first spell, she would be taken out. But how wrong he was. This was different, Y/N was an exception. Frustrated at the thought of being pushed down, words that may be whispered through the corridors- mocking him when he lost to a mere female; pushed him to the edge. He needed to reconstruct evidence to the witness of the power that thunders through his veins. He needed people to fear him.
The corner of his lips curled up, shivers running down Y/N’s spine- every possibility that she predicted thrown out of the window as Tom was not someone you could figure out with a sheer look, to read his expressions or his face could lead you to two places: a vast maze or a short walk to an empty wall. In summary, Tom was unpredictable.
Noticing the slight widening in her eyes, Tom raised his wand, “Alarte Ascendare!” A deafening shriek resounded through the room, coldness engulfed Y/N as everything wipes off her face.
Flailing her hand in midair, she gasped, pointing her wand at the stage. Fear prodded her, but her instinct brought her to safety as she cried, “Molliare!” Thankfulness to her quick reflex left her breathless which was coated by her painful wince when she landed on the invisible cushion with a loud crash. Her back rippling waves of agonizing pain from the abrupt impact. Pride suffocated their heads, Tom not wanting to be weak- stood headstrong. While Y/N taunted every way she could, provoking the opponent. And it didn’t take them long to have their wands on each other’s throat. This lasted till the moon hugging the sky, only a handful friends of Tom’s social circle stayed. Y/N’s supportive friends (which consisted of mostly ravenclaws, hufflepuffs and gryffindors) waited patiently, even though one had snoozed off, snoring. But the two pair did not finish the duel not satisfying their needs.
Y/N intermittently breathed out, her hands resting on her knees as sleep notified its’ desperation for her comfortable bed. Her eyes snapped up to face the Slytherin. Pushing herself to stand straight, her breathing still broken as the strenuous battle caught up with her stamina. In the corners of her eyes, she realized that everyone had somehow fallen asleep; she glanced behind her, Professor Galatea too. Lestrange’s head rolled around, mouth gaped open as he emitted the loudest snores. The duel had definitely drained all of her energy. Noticing her glances towards the surrounding witness, a corner of his lips quirked up at a fascinating idea. Y/N flinched as he raised his wand, a sigh of relief escaped her lips when he pointed it towards the air. His mumblings were indecipherable as if he was uttering it under his breath. And like tiles to a puzzle, shimmering white hexagon-shaped forces clicked together- soon surrounding the platform.
Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed, confusion stuck her face, not able to comprehend what Tom’s intention was with the glittery globe of a sort. Taking large paces towards her, his arm wrapped around her waist, tugging her to press her hand flat on his chest to stabilize herself. Her eyes widened at the close proximity.
“Why don’t we continue what happened last night?” His warm breathing glistening her face, his eyes seemed to be focused and distracted by her lips. The perfectly curled hair that rested on her forehead tickled her. A tingle in her stomach caused her mouth to gape open in shock.
“B-but people…” Trying her best to construct sentences, she stuttered, eyes shying down to glimpse at the resting bodies around the stage. He chuckled, the breeze hovering over her lips. He was more amused over the fact that she didn’t deny at his suggestion of ending a scene. The faint blush that painted her cheeks made him smile, happy at his effortless way of making her flustered.
His slender fingers sliding under her robe to play with the hem of her shirt, a shiver running down as hair bulged from its position. Every time his fingers would brush over her waist caused another ripple of tingles that zapped throughout her body, “Why? Afraid of them seeing us doing this?” He tauntingly replied, pressing his lips onto her, driven by passionate and neediness. Her fingers curled, lips knowing to follow the rhythm that he had set. Hands fondling with his hair, gripping it occasionally when he wanted more contact- pressing her body closer to his. His tongue caressing the bottom of her lips, to which opened ajar, her own welcoming his. The corner of his lips quirked up when she gave in so easily. Y/N’s eyes widened, remembering the people that breathed the same air as she did. She pulled away, breathless. But before she could say anything, he replied- as if he knew what she was going to ask. “Don’t worry, they’ll only see what I want them to see.” He pulled her for another kiss, her worries not cleared, but she decided to proceed with what her instincts told her to.
And it may or may not have been him winning the duel.
Requested by: Anonymous
Wordcount: 4788
Synopsis: A Slytherin and a Gryffindor do their prefect rounds together and run into a spot of trouble on Halloween Night.
Notes: John Murphy as Tom Riddle.
The Halloween celebrations at Hogwarts were legendary, and much looked forward to by students and staff alike. Pumpkins, carved with faces and sprinkled with cinnamon and brown sugar, brought both the autumn look and smell to the great hall as they hovered above the tables during the feast. Some of the students went as far as to wear costumes, though most were attired in their warmer robes with bright colored scarves around their necks in shades of orange. Honeydukes in Hogsmeade had provided mountains of candy which piled up around the puddings during dessert, but the feast was not the highlight of the day for many of the students. That would come later, when the teachers retired to their rooms except for those on patrol, for Halloween was a night of mischief for ghost and student alike.
All prefects were put on patrol duty for the night, and that meant that you - a fifth year prefect representing the proud house of Gryffindor - were out of bed and wandering the dark castle rather than sharing a cup of pumpkin juice with your friends and guessing if the candy handed to you was an acid pop or a muggle lollipop. You weren’t alone, but you might as well have been for you had been paired with Tom Riddle, Slytherin prefect, and a person known for being the strong and silent type, and not at all given to conversation, even to pass the time.
Tom Riddle walked with his hands clasped behind his straight back. His eyes were always ahead, never on you. He didn’t even suggest bringing out his wand and casting lumos so you two could see if anyone was standing in the shadows, he seemed to be able to see in the dark. The candles were just enough for you to be able to tell if something was moving but apart from that, you were blind.
You couldn’t take it anymore and brought out your wand, casting the light giving spell, but immediately, the Slytherin beside you gently pressed it down so it was pointed at the floor. “We want to catch people, not let them on to our presence so they can stop their activities.” He spoke, his voice deeper than that of most people your age. You rolled your eyes, persistent on keeping the light.
“I’d rather them stop their activities and go to bed than have to chase them around the castle, in the dark nonetheless.” You argued.
“Shh.” He said, and muttered the counterspell to darken your wand. You opened your mouth to argue but realized that it would be absolutely pointless in this case. Any other Slytherin, you would have taken on, but there was something to Tom Riddle that made you stop and ponder whether it was a good idea. It didn’t matter if it was or not at that moment, for you too heard whatever noise that he had his ears caught onto.
Around a corner, there was sounds of muffled laughter. Students out of bed, and as of yet uncaught by the caretaker or a prefect. You just had to hope that they were not Gryffindor students, giving your house a bad name and the potential of getting points taken away which was something that you could ill afford at this time.
You held your wand in your hand, your thumb grazing a knot in the wood, ready to defend yourself from an ever-bashing boomerang or a dungbomb or whatever they might have had planned.
You were much more subtle than Tom, creeping rather than merely stepping, hoping to catch them off guard, startle them into silence and enforce some discipline which was your responsibility, but Tom’s footsteps could be heard down the hall. It did not scare away the students, but brought about some laughter and shushing. They were evidently not going to be giving up on their prank, no matter who it was that would pass into it.
The two of you turned into the next Hallway but it was empty. A flash of movement in one of the classrooms caught your attentions however. You grabbed onto Tom’s robe and chased after it, heading into the unused room. You raised your wand to light it again but the sound of the door slamming shut behind you, and then being blocked rather than just locked, was loud enough for you not to hear yourself reciting the spell. It lit anyhow, and the white light showed that the two of you were not alone.
There was something pale in the corner of the room. It had spots missing from it, but the light from the end of your wand reflected off the white, making it appear like a ghost. You thought perhaps it might be one of the many Hogwarts ghosts on a late night stroll but the thing moved closer and showed a much more solid form than any of the ghosts had. Each step had an odd sound, like rubber slapping against wood, followed by a squeak like a person coming out of the rain.
“Stay there,” You said, raising your wand. Tom took a step closer to the figure, his arm also raised, and the thing changed itself, following into shadow and dropping onto the ground noiselessly. It was only the wind coming from it as it fell that gave you any indication of what had happened.
Tom lit his wand as well, finally using his common sense in your opinion, and took a few confident strides over until he stopped suddenly.
“What is it?” You questioned, whispering.
“Boggart.” He finally spoke. Your mind whirled with this new information, and curiosity did overtake you. You knew that you would do well to retreat back to the door, cast a blasting spell to get whatever blocked it out of the way and capture the students who had locked you inside - but you were curious about what the fear of someone like Tom Riddle would be.
The light showed the figure on the floor, with dark hair covering his eyes, pale skin nearly glowing. The blood that was on the hands, and on some of the exposed skin, was a violent crimson that could not soon be forgotten. Tom kicked the figure just a little, to reveal its face.
Tom’s own.
You gasped and put your hand to your mouth. It took a moment for you to control your breathing, but now that you had, all you could think about was going out that door and taking all of the points away from those students, no matter which house you were in, and report them to the Headmaster immediately.
“Ridikkulus.” Tom said, the light at the end of his wand going out, and was replaced by the sparkle of the spell. The body was lifted, and started to jerk and dance about like it was a puppet on strings. This attempt to make it funny just made you feel more uneasy. You started to feel sick to your stomach.
But eventually the puppeted corpse of the boy next to you dissipated, and in it’s stead, a clown stood. The corners of it’s large red mouth were particularly pointy, the nose was as red as blood. The pointed cone-shaped hat that was on it’s head seemed as sharp as the end of a needle, and it’s eyes as black as coal.
Seeing it brought you back to third year, when you had learned how to deal with Boggarts in DADA class. Relax, do not give into fear, think of something to make this big nosed, big footed thing amusing. Pointing the wand right at the clown’s chest, you muttered ‘Ridikkulus.”
A popping sound filled the empty room, and then a wheezing. Like the balloons that clowns often carried, this clown was leaking air and folding in itself until there was nothing left but a deflated shape. That soon disappeared, and the two of you were left in utter darkness. A few seconds later, before you could respond to what had just happened, a wardrobe door opened and shut, the boggart trapping itself since it had been beaten.
And in another couple of seconds, a blast came from the direction of the door that you had come in through, as Tom used ‘Bombarda’ to literally make it explode out from it’s hinges. Once the dust settled, you were out of there, following the Slytherin prefect as he ran after the boys that had locked the two of you in there with literally your worst fears.
In the dark of the castle, you seemed to have lost them. The adrenaline and the fear had gotten the best of you back in the classroom, and you leaned against a wall in the corridor to catch your breath.
“Do you care to tell me why a classroom has been blown up?” You looked up to see a tall figure walking towards you, but you felt no anger, surprise or fear. The voice was that of the kindly Transfigurations professor, Dumbledore. You explained as quickly as possible what had happened, and that you had lost the trail of your co-prefect and the culprits. “Return to your dormitory, and you’ll be summoned in the morning to tell this all to Professor Dippet.” He said, calmly. You nodded, excused yourself and headed to the Gryffindor tower, unable to get the sight of the clown out of your mind.
The next morning, you were indeed called to Professor Dippet’s office after breakfast, where you stood with Tom, and the three seventh year Slytherin boys who had been the ones to pull the prank. You explained your piece, and were told in return that the boys would be receiving detention with Professor Slughorn every weekend for the next three months. That didn’t seem good enough to you - the Professor would probably bond with the boys over their rich and resourceful families and treat them to desserts, but you didn’t press the issue. Dippet did what he deemed best and as prefect, you had to trust that it was the right thing.
“Clowns.” Tom murmured as the two of you walked back to the staircases to proceed to your next lessons, which you were already running late for but you had signed notes from Dippet.
“Excuse me?” You asked, thinking that you heard him wrong, for it was such an odd thing to say.
“Your boggart was a clown.” Tom stated. You shot him a glance as you hopped up on one of the staircases as it started to change direction. He had stepped on as well but didn’t give you a single look.
“Have you seen those things? Terrifying. Definitely not appropriate for children at all.” You justified yourself. You very well could bring up his but anything personal about Tom felt off-limits to you. It was strange to even consider.
“They entertain children.”
“By hiding their faces and features under caked on paint, laughing menacingly, spraying water in your face, honking your nose, waving at you from across the room with it’s obnoxiously big white gloves...” You went on. “I’m not ashamed of it.”
“Clearly.” Tom said, with what sounded like amusement in his voice.
He stepped up a stair to join you, and you found his closeness to be quite uncomfortable. He was silent now, and you felt the pressure of having to say something, anything, to get rid of the quiet tension. “Can we just pretend that it never happened? I won’t ask you any questions about yours, and you leave me alone about mine.”
“Fine.” Tom said with a nod. The staircase clicked itself into place, and you proceeded up the rest of the way and onto the landing, looking over your shoulder at Tom, who stayed on the staircase as it moved away from the sixth floor corridor towards the Astronomy tower. You shook your head to yourself, and attempted to brush off the cold feeling that had come over you when you had stood near him.
The students that had been apprehended had been looking at you and sniggering all throughout breakfast, which made you feel uneasy. Your friends noticed it and kept shooting them dirty looks - one of them even offered to send a howler, pretending to be their mothers, but you rejected it. It would just make things worse, you felt, so you took the high road and attempted to ignore it. That was until you and most of the other students started to get up, adjust your robes, and head off to your first class of the day.
Through the massive doors that lead to the great hall strode in a clown. Okay, it may just have been Peeves the Poltergeist in a polka-dotted get up with some sort of colored grease paint all over his face, which you weren’t sure was possible since his face was not exactly solid, but it was still enough for you to lower your face to the ground, put your hands over your ears, and take a deep breath. You attempted to imagine that you were anywhere else but here as the jingling sounds of the bells on Peeves’ hat moved closer and closer.
Footsteps echoed on the floor as they came closer to you. You could just hear them over the sound of people in the Great Hall laughing at what, to you, was a terrifying sight that made you feel like you could melt into a puddle on the floor.
“Leave, Peeves.” Tom Riddle said, his voice forceful enough to make you shudder. If he had ever talked to you like that, you weren’t sure what you would do. And you were put in Gryffindor for a reason - you did have a great deal of bravery, he was just that intimidating.
“Itsy Little Riddle - I’ve got a Riddle for you!” Peeves said, bouncing around, making his hat jingle all the more. “I live for laughter, I live for the crowd, without it I am nothing, what am I?” He laughed loudly.
“We get it, you’re a clown.” Tom said, his voice even. “I’m sure the Baron will find it hilarious. I’ll summon him now-”
“Aiiee!” Peeves the Clown immediately fell through the floor, leaving the hat and clothing on the floor, which you only saw when you finally opened your eyes, following no further noise from the poltergeist. You avoided looking at the clothes after your first glimpse, and you definitely avoided looking at Tom. Rather, you just hurried from the Hall as fast as you could, and away from the laughter.
The Prefects bathroom was where you went, rather than the classroom. You went to the sinks, put your hands on either side of one of them, and took a couple of deep breaths. The vision of the deranged clown that the boggart had turned into flashed into your mind and you winced.
“I suspect it was those seventh years who put Peeves to the task.” Riddle said, strolling in. You looked at him through the mirror, but said nothing. He had as much right to be in here as you do, since you are both prefects. “I can’t prove it, however.”
“They got their laughs,” You said, straightening your back and then adjusted your red and gold striped tie that showed off your Gryffindor pride. It directly opposed Tom’s green and silver tie and badge. “But then again, your house is known for being utterly relentless.” You caught his eye in the reflection.
“Aren’t Gryffindors supposed to be brave?” He retorted, coming in closer to you. He stood directly behind but your eyes hadn’t moved, staring straight into his through the mirror. He leaned forward, his chest against your back, and turned on the water in the sink. “Splash some water on your face, you look pathetic.”
“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see how you react if anyone ever makes Peeves dress up as your corpse.” You said, doing as he had said for you to do, and splashed some cold water on your face. To your surprise, Tom held out a towel to you after that was done, and you took it and dried yourself off.
“Don’t ever mention that to anyone.” Tom threatened. You pretended not to hear him, using the towel to dry some of your flyaway hairs that had become wet as well.
“Did people see?” You asked, tossing the towel into the laundry bin where it would go down to the house elves, be washed, and brought back up. “My reaction, I mean, Peeves was hard to miss.”
“I doubt it, they were laughing until I ruined their fun.”
“Good. I’d hate for them to think I need to be shut up in an asylum because I cannot stand the sight of clowns.” You turned around and faced Tom straight on, and gave a weak smile. Despite the ribbing, you were still thankful that he had helped you in the Great Hall and that he had followed you in here. “They’re lucky I don’t know what they’re afraid of.”
“Do you want to find out?” Tom asked. The question hung in the air like a heavy cloud. He was full of surprises today, but this one was one of the bigger ones. He was never one to mess with drama, at least not in the school. He kept his focus on his studies, and on himself, he never gave a care about the other students, in a good or a bad way. This was the most Slytherin like that he had ever seemed to you.
“No.” You said, after a few minute deliberation. “They aren’t worth the trouble that we may get into. However - the moment that I graduate from this school, I’m tracking them down and challenging them to a duel. I plan to bombard them into the last century.” You said, with a determined tension in your jaw. Tom snickered - actually goddamn snickered at your gumption.
“Now that, I would like to see.” Tom said, retreating from you to head back towards the door. “I’ve got a few plans of my own.”
“Are you going to be a prankster, Tom Riddle?” He hardly seemed the type. He was so uptight, and so serious. He probably never went near a dungbomb in his life.
“No.” He said, as if it was the most preposterous idea that he had ever heard. “I’m not sinking to their level. I’m raising them to mine. Excuse me,” And with a bow of his curly black hair, he left the prefects bathroom. A moment later, you followed, heading the opposite way however to get to your first class of the day.
At which point did Tom realize that he was doing things for you, and not for himself? He couldn’t say - it had always been in the back of brain, that image of you, the way that you had shut down when you saw your greatest fear in front of you. It fascinated him, it intrigued him how you had frozen rather than face your weakness. Loud and obnoxious, those seventh year Slytherins were, and so it was easy to find them after dinner when he entered the Common Room. “Someone’s come to get the bloody baron before the Gryffindork pees themself?” One of them laughed, seeing Tom Riddle enter the dreary room.
“Interesting, isn’t it? The way that the simplest minds get fixated on one thing, when they should be worrying about many others.” Tom said, cool as an ice cube. “Now, for instance, yours shouldn’t be focused on the prefect, or on clowns, but on yourselves. I’d be very much concerned about that.” Maybe it was the tone of voice, the detection of a threat or how unfazed Tom was that alarmed the three boys. “Chances are, someone is going to stand up for them eventually, and it’s going to be known that you’re the only ones who knows about the clowns. Or maybe she’ll stand up for herself? Or maybe this will backfire in your face and it’ll be you on the end of the Bloody Baron’s sword. Maybe all the above.”
“I wouldn’t talk so much if I were you, prefect.” The largest of the boys said, forcing a smirk onto his face. “You could just have a laugh like the rest of us are doing.”
Tom brought out his wand, and quickly - very quietly - mumbled out the silencing charm on this leader. It was one of his own invention. Instead of just taking away the voice, it took away the entire mouth, leaving the skin from nose to chin without marr or features.
“The Gryffindor prefect is under my protection.” He gave no excuses, no reason for declaring it. He could have a million things to say, like it was because he didn’t want the trouble or the house points taken away. Those weren’t the reasons. He had no need to justify himself. “If one more clown related thing happens, I will have no remorse over what I will do to you.”
The two boys who weren’t silenced were much too fussed over their leader to pay much attention, but they nodded their heads, not wanting the same thing to happen to them. With his wand raised straight in front of his face, Tom strode in close to the mouthless boy, and raised an eyebrow. “Are we clear?”
The boys fingers touched where his mouth had been, and tried to open a space that wasn’t there. Hysterical grunts came through his nose, but he nodded in response to Tom, who poked the boys face and brought the mouth back. “Good. Not a word, lads.”
Over the next couple of weeks, there were no more sightings of clowns. Not a letter, not a ghost dressed up as one, not a thing, and you started to wonder if it had anything to do with the fact that Tom always seemed to be hanging around you now. Since your time together in the prefects bathroom, he seemed to be strolling behind you on your way to class, or sharing your table in the library when you went to study.
You started to welcome the company of the isolated teenager, slowing your pace so that he would have no choice but to either stop or join you on your walks, and you started to share books as well so you wouldn’t have to hunt for a second copy of something you both needed for an essay. It began to be easier to be around him. With you being a Gryffindor, and him a Slytherin, there was some tension still when it came to certain topics but you eased him into a friendship, slowly but surely.
You might even be the only friend that he’s ever had.
In the library, close to the end of the school year, you were studying for your OWLS diligently. Around you were all the different textbooks of the classes that you were taking, and you were jotting down important notes then muttering them to yourself so they would stick in your head better. Tom had joined you, and though he too took notes, there was no sound at all coming from his corner of the table other than the rustling of parchment and the turning of pages.
Then there was three minutes of straight silence. No quill scratching, nothing, so you looked over to his side of the table and saw him sitting straight, a dark look in his eyes, glaring over your shoulder. Slowly, you turned your head around with no expectations of what it was that Tom would be giving this look to. What you saw were the three seventh years who had locked you and Tom in the room with the boggart. They were trying to look brave, but you could see right through them. They had fear in their eyes as they looked right back at Tom.
“What is that, in your hand?” Tom asked viciously, getting to his feet.
“It’s a card for my little brother -” One of them said, and held it up. There was a dancing clown on the cover of the card. It looked happy and jolly, and held up a big banner that said ‘Happy Birthday’. It wasn’t at all menacing but it still put a shiver down your spine and you tuned to look away from it.
“Incendio.” Tom had his wand out in the short time that you had looked over your shoulder. Your mouth fell open as you realize what he had just done - he burned the card until it was nothing but ashes on the library rug.
“No magic in the library!” The sharp-voiced librarian said from behind her desk. Her eyes were like that of a hawk and her ears that of a dog or something, for she knew exactly who it was. “Mr. Riddle, out!”
With that same dark look in his eyes, he slid his books and parchment into his bag, and walked out, leaving a cold feeling in the room despite the fire.
“If you didn’t have a fear of clowns, my brother would get a birthday card this year.” One of the seventh years glowered at you. You stood up and packed your own things, then made a face over at the older boy, then rushed out to catch up with Tom, your mind trying to figure out what had just happened. Both you and Tom have run into these boys since their little prank, and there had never been this sort of reaction.
You saw the dark-haired boy turn a corner, so you quickened up your pace to catch up. “Tom!” You called out, making him slow down. You stopped in front of him, and poked his chest hard with your index finger. “Why did you do that? He wasn’t bothering you!”
“I told him that if he, or any of his friends, came near you with any sort of clown-themed thing, I’d do something to them. As it happens, burning a card is the least that I could have done.” Tom said, flippantly.
“You think that I can’t handle myself?” You questioned.
“You’ve proven that you freeze up if someone is even dressed as a clown, so no.” Tom took hold of your wrist and forced you to walk alongside him. “So I have to take care of you, for you.”
“Oh no you don’t! I fight my own battles, Mr. Riddle!” The anger that was bubbling in you, the bravado that came from being a Gryffindor, meant that you were going for the complete formal rather than informal. But you were not stupid enough to continue on when he gave you the dirty look he had given to the seventh years.
“Don’t ever call me that.” He spat. “You’re the only one here that I even remotely care about, so you’re mine and I’m going to take care of you until this stupid fear of yours is gone.”
“I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended.” You folded your arms in front of your chest, leaned on the heels of your feet and looked down at the floor. “Tom - if you want to be friends, lets be friends. Drop this whole clown thing. I will be fine. I’m not going to go into hysterics over a bloody birthday card, now am I?” You glowered.
“Friends?” Tom asked as if it were some sort of alien concept to him. The confusion and the aggression did not mix well, and his face showed that conflict. He muttered it again, wiped his mouth across his lips and then laughed. “Friends?” He said once more. If he was trying to scare you off, it wasn’t working. Rather, you stood still in your place.
“Friends.” You said firmly. “A level above acquaintance. But now thanks to you, we have to find a better place to study. Let’s go to the courtyard.”
With your backpack tight around your shoulder, you walked off in the direction of the beautiful outdoor courtyard which was blooming with Spring flowers. Tom watched you go, looking at the way that your hips swayed as you walked. As you took command.
“Unbelievable.” He said, but followed after like a disciplined puppy.
“I have been granted permission by Headmaster Dippet to conduct this duel. Now, hear me very clearly. This is an aid for your own defence, against malicious possibilities,”
Tom smugly smirked- having no doubt he would be winning the challenge, “Feels like last night, rings a bell?”
“Which one? You holding a wand at me or me over you?”
Every time his fingers would brush over her waist caused another ripple of tingles that zapped throughout her body, “Why? Afraid of them seeing us doing this?” He tauntingly replied
note: so no smut uhmm, enjoy :) credit to owner of gif!
tag: @kurochan3 @accio-rogers
“We should’ve left her to rot at Azkaban.” The tortured suggested, his wish to agonize and make his victim suffer flowed smoothly through his voice; not caring to cover his malignant desire.
“You know we can’t do that. Death Eaters overran the place.” His companion ever since Hogwarts schooling mumbled, a sigh falling from his lips as his eyes scanned the slumped body in the prison-like cell.
“Should’ve let the dementors to feed on her.” Sirius growled, hands tightened into a fist at the appearance of the person he used to call a friend.
“Don’t think they would get a good feed. She has no happy memories.” Remus mumbled back, a modicum of pity sparked in his heart- which faded as the limbs of the hostage twitched.
The tight restraints around her wrist tugged her skin, kissing it with bruises she would play on other skins; a painful hiss left her lips as the sensation of soreness burned throughout her body. Scanning the room, she could not help but land her gaze on the tall duo standing, staring down on her.
A chuckle left her lips, smiling as if the situation was amusing. Which quirked down to frown as she felt the absence of her wand. Pursing her lips in quick defeat.
Sirius smirked, waving her wooden stick taking in the rare moments of her expression.
Sneering at the teasing man, she wished she could send a curse to stab him- when her head felt compressed, strained. The squeezing sensation caused her to groan, it felt like an eternity before it would die out. Leaving her peacefully.
“Oh right, I forgot to tell you,” He waved his hands, huffing at his silly mistake to inform her of the liquid they fed her to subdue her powers. “Every time you try to do wandless magic, all it will do is hurt you. Hopefully, it will hurt you more than you ever conflicted to your family or anybody that you hurt.” Sirius sneered with disgust. Lacing his tongue was the intention to avenge the innocent lives she took, she had to face the problem she created.
Cocking her head with disinterested eyes, she wondered before mumbling the doubt she had, “So what do you need me for?” After having experience with interrogation and torturing, she would know the reason to make such an effort.
“We ask the questions, not you.” Sirius growled, narrowing his eyes in an attempt to intimidate her. To which she scoffed, rolling her eyes and shrugging her shoulders to the inexperienced interrogator.
“Where is Voldemort now?” With the name of the Dark Lord her head snapped to face the brown-haired man, before lowering down to stare into the cracking floors. Trying her best to compose the right words.
“I-I don’t know…” Her heart ached, stuttering at the thought of the one she served sole and alone avoiding her existence as if she was diagnosed with Dragon Pox. Fiddling with her fingers to distract herself from the inappropriate thoughts she had of the superior; of course he would come back, wouldn’t he?
“Bullshit! You know where he is. Don’t you dare lie!” Sirius slammed his hand to clash with the metal bars, making her flinch at the sudden ringing. “You always did. Even with Regulus.”
Her lips pressed to a flat line, lost at words.
The Animagus smirked, proud at his ability. Remus shook his head, resting his hand on to Sirius’s shoulders to stop him from taunting her, “That’s enough.”
Glancing at the hand, he rolled his shoulders to push it off, taking a short glare to the cowering woman before stomping out.
“What is Voldemort’s next move?” Remus inquired, leaning a hand for leverage on her bars. Y/N frowned as she played the memory of being pushed out of her Master’s inner circle; which affected her greatly.
“I don’t know…” Keeping her answers to minimal, she replied.
Slight annoyance struck his voice, “How wouldn’t you know? You’re his most loyal follower.” She chuckled at him at the frustrating memory.
“He hasn’t been telling me anything. Nothing.” She confessed, feeling her heart twitch at the thought of him avoiding her. Although it would be greedy of her to say she should be the top priority as she devoted herself to serve him and him alone, that spark never faded away.
“So it’s not true then?” She tilted her heads, waiting for him to continue his question. “The rumour of you, being significantly… important to him.”
A faint chuckle fell from her lips, amused at the shocking announcement. Resting her head on the cold walls before sighing out, “I wonder who thought of that.”
Remus smiled before pacing out of the room.
It’s been a week. They treated her adequately. Other than their experiment of using veritaserum, to which she countered with Occulmency and spilling sweet nothings to their ears and Sirius’s irregular patterns of lashes that could not be controlled. His rage he tried to suppress would break out with damaging words; hence he wasn’t allowed to visit her without supervision.
She breathed out, words ran around her head- thoughts bouncing off the walls of her tranquil vessel. Fingers scratching the frozen walls that shadowed from the lacking source of light, her head snapped towards the door to see the silhouette of a man.
“Ah, Sirius. You’re back, why? In need to insult me?” She suggested, tilting her head to wait for his reaction but he stayed at the door, staring at her. She nodded, not understanding why he wasn’t already growling with provocation and testing her patience.
“Have they treated you well, my love?” His usual enraged voice hissed at her nonchalantly. She raised her eyebrow; scoffing, not believing his different demeanour.
“Go away, I don’t want to see your face.” She stated, facing the plain wall with a stoic face. Arms crossed with a huff. But he didn’t listen, as he paced to stand in front of the prison bars to stare at her with a slight smirk.
“Really? I thought you would’ve loved seeing me.” Sirius mumbled, dramatically and languidly waving his hand over his face to transform into a familiar serpent face.
Getting onto her feet, she stared at him with widened eyes, gasping silently at the sight of him before her, “M-my lord…” She grasped the cold bars, now face to face to the one who avoided her.
“You haven’t been eating.” He noticed, rubbing his icy index finger over her soft skin, noticing the dark circles under her eyes. Before scanning the cell they provided her, no bed or mattress. Just a plate of probably chilled food that was untouched and a small cup of water. His lips fell into a straight line at the sight.
“Why are you here my Lord?” She asked, not comprehending to how he was standing in front of her; blinking rapidly, hoping it wasn’t a dream. He chuckled.
“I’m here to save you.” He replied, tapping the metal bars with a drum of his fingers before it disappeared. Removing the only thing that blocked them, her eyes widened in surprise by the abrupt removal of the walls, before falling into his arms that wrapped around her waist. Raising his opened palms, the wand she missed so dearly fell into his grasp.
She gasped as he handed the wooden stick to her with a faint smile. Pushing her head into his chest, his scent infatuated her before pointing his own wand to the wall, “Bombarda Maxima.” Cinders blew up, fresh air hurried inside the room. Still, in his grasp, he pulled her to the ajar opened wall. The fastened pace of footsteps echoed closer to them, and the last thing she saw was the astounding face of Sirius Black. As she was tugged to jump off before a loud roar like thunder curtained her to another destination.
Stumbling on her feet, she rested her hand onto his shoulders to stabilize herself, “Slow and steady.” He placed his hands on her hips to help her. Glancing to look at him she couldn’t help but smile towards the saviour of her day.
Lips leaned closer to one another until they melted into each other, molding into each other like perfect puzzle pieces. Her arms wrapped around his neck in desperation for closer contact. His lips were frozen-cold, which battled and thawed under her warm ones; his needy hands ran around her figure before resting it on her ass, tugging her closer- to which she gasped.
The kiss ended sooner than they liked it to be, eyes glossing over the other. Taking in their view with panting breathing. Cheeks painted red, Y/N broke the silence, “Why were you avoiding me?”
His head tilted, admiring his view- caressing her visage with his index fingers, taking time to answer her doubt, “I knew they would take you. Who else would they?”
Is he saying I’m vulnerable? Weak? Voldemort chuckled, “No, I’m not saying you’re vulnerable. Nor are you weak. It was time they found my weakness,”
Placing a delicate kiss on her lips, he mumbled, “Let’s continue what we ended.” And that is how she ended up under him, fingers interlaced with his, screaming at the top of her lungs.
(A/N: i was planning on making this smut but do you know how frustrating it is to try to write a smut when voldy is wearing a robe, like for gods sake what’s under that. also, i will start editing their equal part 2, and can i say i live for dumbledore x reader x grindelwald ;))
“Crucio.”
The only sound that echoed throughout spacious room was the battle between the silence of the superiors and the raging screams of the innocent victim. No one dared to speak up; heads lowered to stare at the suddenly interesting wooden table.
“Say it.. say it..” Her voice teased the bleeding victim. Sending hairs to shiver as the audience listened against their will. The tip of her pointy wand pressed his temple.
“N-no...” He coughed out the painful blood, choking on his own voice; hoping it sounded threatening, but it echoed vindictively.
“No? Crucio!” With a flick of her wand, the tied up man screamed out once again; the pain electrocuting throughout his muscles. He bit his bleeding lips, in attempt to silence the cry out to justice; in hopes for someone to hear his excruciating pleads. But he has given up, knowing there is no hope, so all he desperately waits for was death.
A silent whimper erupted from a platinum blonde haired boy, who sat next to his silent parents; his grey eyes begged for it to stop. Pleading for the screams to stop.
“Please! I have a f-family!” She rolled her eyes at his attempt to end her fun, reluctantly pausing the curse. Pulling his hair to face her, she smirked at the masterpiece she painted. Rolling his head around, she examined every crooks and crannies.
“Oh? Is that so? Is it this one?” She rapped her wand in the air and a floating orb exposed a peaceful resting family. His eyes widened in shock, realizing it was his family.
“Please! Don’t harm them! They’re all I have..” He cried out, wrists tugging the tight restraints. His wrists bruised in gradients of blue and purple. Wincing as the rope held him in its’ trap, not letting go.
She tilted her head, contemplating on what to do; glancing at the Dark Lord who nodded at her.
Before returning her gaze back to brink-on-death man.
“I’ll play nice,” Pulling her wand back, twisting it, observing the object she cherished. “I had one too. Family, that was so long ago. You want to know what happened?” The corner of her lisp quirked up.
He did not respond, breathing deeply.
“I killed them all. They all stopped breathing together, poetic, right?” She sighed out, staring at a wall as she looked back in the past. Circling the victim, “You want to know why?”
Some ears could not help but budge to eavesdrop the sentimental conversation.
“Blood traitors they were. My brother slept with a muggle. My sister married a mudblood. My uncle allied with a half-blood.,” Eyes darted in random motion, the listeners gulped as she whispered the list of her tragic life. “But I’m innocent right?”
She stepped in front of him, pouting her lips slightly to entice him into her innocence, “Who would suspect Little Y/N? Hm?” She batted her eyes.
“And you..,” The tip of her wand puttered on his skin, he flinched away from the weapon; eyes shut as beads of sweat dripped down from his forehead to puddle on the ground. “You are one of them.. are you not?” Her attractive voice made him gulp, skin running cold.
No response.
“Answer me.” Teeth gritted, she prodded and poked his neck with her sharp wand; frustrated at the unresponsive man.
“Y-yes.. I am..” He sighed out, knees shaking; his life flashed before his eyes.
“But what to do?” She pushed his chin with her prodding wand. Their orbs meeting each other; her eyes tempted him. It was hazel. How similar it looked to oak wood. “Such a pretty face to lose.. Too bad..”
“Crucio!”
Her yell rung through out the room once again; and all the empty spaces were filled with his agonizing cries. Eyes narrowed to the shaking man, irritated at the fact that he was not cooperating with her idea.
“Y/N.” With his deep voice, she blinked into reality; the curse halted as the suffered man clenched his jaw, his eyes focused onto the messy floor. He breathed out a large amount of air, knees frail, which screamed to rest. Her head snapped up to the owner of the voice, her loyal arms fall down to the sides of her body, waiting for him to continue. “Let’s not waste time on him.”
That was enough for her. Whatever he mumbled enticed her. It attracted her. It pushed her onto her knees, and all she could do was obey.
“Yes My Lord.” She nodded her head before turning her attention to the man.
“Lets make this fast and quick,” She flicked her wand again, the orb revealing the same scene, playing. His presumed wife bounced her son on her leg, both giggling. “See this? Death is waiting at their doorstep. If you want them breathing, you say what I want.”
His chest huffed and puffed, he was playing a dangerous game. His irrevocable decision seemed to course its way to exposing the desperate information they wanted. The information he found out with no choice, the information he swore not to reveal, the crucial information which could end the wizarding war.
Not risking the lives of his family, “If I say this.. you will leave my family alone,” She nodded with no hesitation, a grin formed on her face. A spark of joy, zipped in her body. He breathed out yet again, chest tightening. Gulping before revealing, “He marked him, he made him his equal.”
The pale skin lord pushed his chair abruptly, it clashed onto the wooden floor with a bang. Making those present in the room to flinch. His long-waited approach ended as he roughly tugged onto his collar.
“Elaborate.”
Y/N’s eyes blinked at her Master before her, “Y-you gave him your powers, when you attacked the Potters, your powers transferred to his blood.” He stuttered, sweating from nervousness at the intimidating glare of the infamous Dark Lord, flashes of the posters he would pass everyday to enter his workplace; warnings of the return of You-Know-Who
“Ah, the Potters... James Potter.” The name rolled off her tongue, as it rung a bell in her mind. A short flash of her memories played. As she remembered to accidentally seduce the said-Potter. And when they would have a short affair of benefiting off one another.
Voldemort huffed, entering the mind of the victim; not satisfied with his answer, even though his answer was inadequate to satisfy his curiosity, that was all he carried. The Dark Lord stared at the trembling man before shoving his collar away. Walking towards the door to part.
‘Finish him.’ With the whisper of his voice that rung in her head, the room flashed of green- darkness engulfed the man, his deceased body slumped onto the floor.
She chuckled, pacing away from the corpse, flicking her wand- the same scene played; a devilry smile smeared onto her, tapping her wand in the air, yet again. As if the radio had jumped from one song to the other, the bodies of his supposedly-lively family sagged onto the floor.
No remorse. No guilt. No heavy heart. Y/N hopped out of the room with a malignant smile.
Wand in her hand, Y/N strolled passed the dungeons, a smile on her lips as her gaze landed onto the wandmaker of the exact wand she held.
“Ash wood with a phoenix feather core.” Her voice echoed through the encased cellar, the sprouting white-haired elder man head snapped towards the prison like door; which separated the manor and the dungeon.
Ollivander stood up, his frail knees did no help at all as he was supported by his hands flat on the cold walls, “13 inches and hard flexibility... it felt like it was just yesterday when you entered my store to purchase a wand, Miss Emerson, what are you doing in the wrong crowd?”
His hands grasped the chilling bars, concern curtained his eyes, “I’m in the right crowd. You are not one to tell me what surrounds me.”
She pressed as if she was confirming her own statement, Ollivander smiled at the young lady, “I knew you were different as soon as you stepped into my store.” He irritated her, she clenched her wand- tempted to hex him, or even worse, curse him. That was until an enticing voice hissed in her head.
‘Come to the study room.’
Not hesitating, she scoffed at the elder before walking up the stairs with a proud smile; straightening her outfit, ready to face her Master.
Dear child, you fell into the wrong hands. Even if you fell, they would not run after you for your safety. Your loyalty means nothing when they face death.
Standing in front of the study room, Y/N stared at the wooden door, engraved it were cracks like streams of rivers; some ended while some never broke a chain. Ready to rap on the door, her hands halted in the air as a muffled but understandable voice cut her, “Come in.”
With a smile she twisted the door knob, entering the library-like room. Closing the door behind her, she hung her head low before obeying the order, “Look at me.”
Her eyes landed on a figure who sat on the chair, the backrest stood tall; its’ edges engraved with gold. The chair’s headrest met at a sharp point like a pointy mountain. Voldemort’s focus were on her as she tried to stand straight and strong for her Master.
“Come here Y/N,” Not even a hint of hesitation in her head, she walked towards the pale Lord, hoping her shoulders were straightened and her head was high up. As soon as she reached the table, she halted in front of her Master, who exuded domination. “I don’t like to do favorites but it seems you are more pleasant... then the rest of them.”
Her eyes light up from the sudden compliment, her cheeks burned, “T-thank you my Lord, I am honored for you to say such high-praising and worthy words to me.” She bowed her head.
He ‘tsk’ed, his fingers wrapped around her chin, pulling her head up to face him, “Such pretty eyes..,” his gaze fell onto her lips. “and valuable lips.”
With no control, she bit her lips as she felt her cheeks to burn crimson red, her eyes fell onto the floor; staring at her feet; his close proximity sent her heart racing as she gulped, Voldemort tugged her chin, rather harshly, yet again, shaking his head, “Look at me and only me.”
Nodding calmly, she tried to maintain her loudly beating heart, following his orders, she tried her best to uphold their eye contact ; clear and vast like an ocean, mysterious and endless. If anyone was in her place, they would’ve cowered in fear or die with their heartbeat frozen. But she was not anyone. She was Y/N.
Catching her by surprise, the Dark Lord placed a delicate kiss upon her lips. He pulled back to observe her reaction. A lopsided smirk smeared smugly onto his face, “You’re different.”
