Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1

(I do not own anything within the Harry Potter Universe besides my OC, Enjoy!)

Shatter

Chapter 1

September of 1944

It was brisk on the morning of September 1st, 1944. The withered leaves from the trees had just begun to fall; the morning air's crispness burned the back of one's throat if they were to inhale too sharply. A loud whistle from the trains echoed throughout the station, the steam engulfing the platforms as their passengers scurried to board upon the trains. These busy people would have never noticed the numerous children and their families rushing through a wall as if it was a revolving door. The platform was 9 ¾, the destination being The Hogwarts Express.

Some of the tiny first years rushed before their parents to board the train, anxiously searching for their friends; while some clung onto their mother's for dear life, not quite ready to depart from their beloved relatives. As the children said their goodbyes, one young woman maneuvered her way through the numerous families, already had said her goodbyes to her parents before they sought off to another day working in the Ministry. This young woman went by the name of Marcella Blomgren.

This woman was known for her long, soft, silvery hair cascading down her slim back, reaching her waist, and wide, doe-like hazel eyes. Her small face resembled one of a fox, with sharp cheekbones and a prominent jawline. Her skin was of what looked to be porcelain. Some would say they found her...unique looking. Certainly not the beauty of her time, but otherwise not ghastly to look upon either. Her height reached to a pleasant five foot six inches, just enough height for her to tower over some, but to seem innocent and charming towards others. She was cloaked in rich fabric, her pea coat trimmed with the fur of a bear, contrasting its magnificent ink-tinted fur with her near luminescent locks.

She made her way to one of the last cars of the train, her luggage already being stowed away as she gracefully stepped aboard the compartment filled with her fellow Slytherin schoolmates, walking down the aisle as she dodged balls of fire as well as pieces of candy. Sustaining her stoic composure, she made her way to an empty compartment and sat down. The raucous from the other students being silenced as she charmed her compartment with a silencing spell, letting out a small sigh of relief as serenity was obtained. She crossed her legs as she pulled out her latest read, _Magick Moste Evile_ by Godelot. As she skimmed the pages, her left eyebrow rose as her interest and amusement grew as she fed her insatiable mind.

She hardly noticed when the train began to lurch forward as it began its journey. This was her sixth year at Hogwarts, her second year of being a Slytherin prefect, and she was determined to assume the role of Head Girl in the next school year. Marcella was not only pure of blood, but also outstandingly brilliant in her studies, excelling at each element of magic. Her largest strengths being Divination, a natural gift passed through her mother, Potions, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts.

As the train trudged along its path, she continued to read and learn, happy in the confines of her quiet space. Her serene state of being was suddenly interrupted by none other than Lestrange, Dolohov, Avery, and Nott. They were once again engaged in a battle over what seemed to be the last chocolate frog. Marcella's face held one of her frequent emotions; unamusement. She studied their cavorting for a few moments before making eye contact with one of the few of her classmates that she had to compete with. A fellow prefect of her year, he sat with a stiff posture, as if nailed to a board, his hair trimmed and brushed to one side, his blue orbs piercing to one's soul. She raised her brows, acknowledging him before resuming her studies. She wanted nothing to do with him at the moment, as he always attempted to belittle her or creep into her mind, as he did with every other weakling.

Marcella heard her compartment door slide open with a loud slam, and a slew of giggling erupted into the once serene area. A trio of girls sat down across from her, grinning from ear to ear. She gave them a polite smile and set down her book onto her lap neatly.

"How was your summer, Marcie?" the one named Edith chimed, her voice almost bursting Marcella's eardrum.

"Just fine, Edith. And you?" she replied, folding her hands into her lap. "Mine was brilliant! My father took me and mother to Dubai! You must go there sometime, Marcie!" Olivia screeched, nearly wiggling with excitement. Marcella smiled curtly and nodded, letting out a small laugh, "Yes, I suppose I will."

After that statement the compartment fell into silence again. The slew of girls knowing better than to speak to Marcella more than needed, since their supposed friend did not prefer to talk much. Marcella empathized with the girls, they didn't know better, and they were not hurting her, so she figured why bother attempting to control the bumbling girls. They sat in silence, a few of them pulling out textbooks to study while a few gazed over into the compartment that held the rather handsome fellow inside, letting out dramatic sighs of lust as if to try and get a rise from the other girls. This silence carried out until it was time to change into their school robes. Marcella checked the time and rose to her feet gracefully while scooping up her bag. She nodded curtly towards her entourage before exiting the compartment to change.

The train screeched to a stop and the children began to flood out of their trollies. Marcella calmly gathered her belongings and stepped out from her compartment and into the aisle. She collided with the boy, causing her to drop her bag. She sighed as she reached to scoop it up into her arms again, but was caught off as it was handed to her by her fellow prefect. They both rose simultaneously, making eye contact, each stare equally tense,

"Thank you, Mr. Riddle." She politely nodded before passing him, their shoulders brushing ever so slightly, then strolling down the aisle and off the train before he could utter a word or react.

She walked within reasonable pace to hop into one of the awaiting carriages pulled by a beautiful thestral, a tall and bony creature with paper-thin black skin clinging onto its skeleton. She had been able to see them ever since she witnessed the incident last year when a young Ravenclaw was petrified and killed last year.

As she resumed to reading her book, the carriage shook ever so slightly. She lowered her novel to make eye contact yet again with him.

Putting any animosity she had towards him, she smiled politely at him, "How was your summer, Tom?" she raised a brow at him.

"Quite fine, I suppose. Thank you." He replied, giving off a curt nod, plastering a faux pleasant smile onto his lips. This response was of course a lie. He spent his summer wishing to wring the necks of those insolent muggle children at that God forsaken place of an orphanage.

"I presume you have become interested in Dark Magic?" he inquired, noticing a book that he had read a year prior that sparked his interests further. She never had struck him as one who would indulge in Dark Magic studies, most women of her time spent their days babbling like little gits rather than enhancing their intelligence.

"One could assume so, yes." She gave off a small, but otherwise pleasant smile. He gave off a slight nod, always keeping his posture and manner in check. After the brief conversation, they resumed to their worlds of silence throughout the ride to the gargantuan castle. Both inwardly glad to be back at the place which they saw as home.


	2. Chapter 2

Shatter

Chapter 2

The carriages jerked to a halt as the caravan of children arrived to their home for the next several months. Marcella and Tom both rose simultaneously, Tom, acting out of false courteousness, allowed Ms. Blomgren to vacate the carriage first, following suit after.

Each child was checked in to insure safety, these were troubled times, Grindelwald was on the rise, and the professors were taking extra precautions to make sure each pupil was accounted for.

As the students filed in, Marcella's brigade of ditsy schoolgirls caught up to her, chirping with excitement as they walked through the halls that led to the Great Hall. This was the one time of the year that Marcella was truly gleeful. She rounded the corner with her acquaintances and stood in the entryway to fully take in the sight before her. She closed her eyes softly and inhaled the strong smells wafting throughout the Great Hall. The smell of various meats, vegetables, and rich sauces. The ceiling was illuminated with glowing orange candles, the night sky above clear and twinkling with perfect diamonds. She gave off a genuine smile and headed off towards the Slytherin table, near the front in order to be ready to guide the first years to the Common Room afterwards. She sat down, crossing her legs precisely, pleasantly greeting each classmate that crossed her path or shouted a greeting towards her. The other prefects, including Tom, sat in close proximity to her as well.

The time came in which each student was filed into their respective houses. Slytherin had gained an outstanding 36 students, but of course was beaten by Gryffindor by 7 students. Marcella warmly greeted each young pupil, knowing that they would need much guidance in order to develop into exquisite wizards and witches. The only prefect who ignored the new students was Tom. His face had an otherwise pleasant appearance, but his eyes shot daggers into the young ones souls. Professor Dippet made a long, rambling speech, typical for the beginning of the school year. Marcella did not quite wish to pay close attention to the speech, since each one was similar to the prior. As she glanced around the table, she locked eye contact with none other than Mr. Riddle. He always seemed to be searching in her mind for any information that would be of value. Little did he know that she was a natural Legilimens, and able to block her mind from being invaded, as well as crawl into others without being noticed. Suddenly, the crowd of students erupted in enthusiastic applause; she joined in on the praise, breaking the ongoing stare contest. Professor Dippet then dismisses his pupils with a merry flourish of his hand, and the prefects rose to round up the first-years in order to guide them to their quarters.

"Come along, first-years. Onward to the Dungeons!" Marcella chirped, putting on her best smile as she led the way along with a few of the other prefects, Tom holding out the back end of the trail of students to insure none of them wandered off. The trail of first-years arrived to the entryway to the dungeons. Marcella turned and smiled down to the small children, all of their wide eyes roaming about, taking in the scenery around them. She clasped her hands together to grab their attention. "Here is the entrance to the dungeons. The passward is Pure-Blood." She nodded curtly before opening the passageway. She, along with two of the other prefects, guided the children into the Common Room. It was dark, illuminated by green-tinted lamps. Crown molding of serpents and waves decorated the ceiling and mantel of the hearth. Marcella stood in the middle of the common room, her smooth voice echoing against the stone ceiling. "To the left are the Ladies dormitories. To the Right are the men's. Goodnight." She nodded to them, smiling as the children rushed up the stairs to get settled in, as well as become acquainted to their roommates.

Marcella strolled over to the lush couches situated in front of the large hearth, with a flick of her unicorn tail hair wand, she sent a spark into the hearth and the flames rose with a passionate flourish, the heat radiating throughout the room. Marcella sat back and basked in the delicious warmth the fire produced. She closed her eyes gently before being disturbed by a dip in the couch. She opened her eyes to look over at who disturbed her momentary peace.

"It is deemed impolite to stare, Mr. Riddle" she chimed, straightening her skirt; she gave off a small smirk before rising from her seat, walking over to the mantel to trace her delicate fingertips across the snakes that adorned the wood. They sprung to life underneath her touch, slithering and softly hissing, as if they were kittens purring.

"I was merely wishing to consult you, Ms. Blomgren. You see, I am under the impression that you do not wish to be in my presence. Am I correct?" he inquired, still situated in the corner of the couch. His legs were spread wide in a relaxed position as he rested his arm on the back of the couch, his dark eyebrow lifted ever so slightly, as if he was prepared to be amused by her response.

She gave him no satisfaction, responding in a calm and collected tone, "Why in heaven's name would you think that?" she smiled politely, her large doe eyes giving her an innocent stare. Her somewhat plump lips turning upward, revealing her glimmering square teeth. Tom inspected her from head to toe, as if she was a specimen that he should experiment with. He shrugged his broad, yet slim shoulders. "I would think you would enjoy my company, given that you are an intelligent woman of noble status. You seem to have some…interesting talents bestowed upon you, is that correct?"

"Nothing that I would be obligated to share with you, Mr. Riddle. Though…I would be honored to stay and chatter, but if you shall excuse me, I must tend to my luggage." She nodded curtly before strolling off to the prefect wing of the dungeons, her wand gripped firmly in her normally gentle hand, She glided up the marble stairs until the sound of her door closing was heard from the common room.

Moments after she departed, Tom rose from his seat to walk up to the fire. As he stood gazing down at the green-tinted flames, he stroked the Gaunt Ring with his left index finger. He knew that she had special properties about her. She was immune to his invasion of her mind, but also did not cringe, nor swoon over him. It aggravated him that she was indifferent to his glorious presence.

_Soon_, he thought, _soon she will beckon to me._


	3. Chapter 3

( Please give reviews! Tell me any suggestions! I am glad to incorporate anything! Also, just so you know, Marcella is supposed to be stoic in nature, she will become more emotional as her and Tom become more associated! Don't worry, I have plans! :) Enjoy!)

Shatter

Chapter 3

The sun rose on the horizon, causing the Black Lake to glisten as if thousands of diamonds were floating atop of the water. Marcella jolted awake as her owl screeched, alerting her that it was time for her to rise and get dressed for the first day of classes. She sighed with discontent, wishing that there was another hour for her to dream in peace. Drawing back the emerald curtains, she padded out of bed and to her wardrobe. Collecting her necessities for her uniform, she slid into her clothing. Her skirt reached to her knee, her green and black stockings cutting off just below the knee, and her sweater hugging her neatly. She tossed on her brand new robes before snatching her satchel and wand, strolling out the door, waving goodbye to her roommates who were just beginning to dress.

She went down the stairs, her soft footsteps making light tapping sounds against the marble floor. As she made her way from the dungeons, she passed a group of Slytherin boys, or better known as Tom's group of what she likes to call thugs. They bounded down the hall in a storm of crude slurs and shoving. Marcella shook her head and smirked ever so slightly. She had to admit, it was an entertaining sight.

As she neared the Great Hall, the sweet aroma of French toast, maple syrup, pumpkin juice, eggs and meats caressed her nose. Her mouth began to water as she strode into the Great Hall. Sitting down near the middle of the Slytherin table, she pulled out her book and began to read as she ate quietly. Waking up early in the morning had its benefits, such as, no one would be able to bother her for at least twenty minutes, and she would have a brief time for serenity before she was off to classes.

She sat there, happily reading, as the other students filed in, noise slowly building until her entire house was at the table. She sighed, disappointed that her silence was expired. She gathered her books and set her plate to be cleaned by the elves, standing up from her seat and walking out of the Great Hall, dodging a few hair-changing spells as she walked out into the hallway. She decided it was best to check her appearance in the prefect bathroom before heading off to her first class.

Looking in the mirror, she corrected any stray hairs that were falling from her neat up-do. She examined her face, making sure her light makeup was in check. She smiled slightly at her reflection, pleased with her appearance for today. With that thought, she walked calmly out of the lavatory and into the now bustling hall of students rushing to class. She checked the time before heading towards her first class of the day, Potions.

She arrived to class exactly on time, entering as the grandfather clock in the classroom sounded eight o'clock. She walked calmly towards an open seat towards the front, across the aisle from Tom. Professor Slughorn waltzed out of his office, "Good morning, children! Welcome to Advanced Potions. Now, come around, children." He smiled crookedly, gesturing for his pupils to come and surround his desk.

"Now, here I have prepared a specimen of Draught of Living Death." He demonstrates the potions capabilities to the class by dropping a single leaf into the brew, the leaf disintegrating within mere seconds. "This potion is difficult to concoct, yes, but not entirely impossible. Now, you will find the instructions on page eighty seven. Your partners are listed on the wall next to the cupboard. The time begins now!" Slughorn clapped his pudgy hands together, starting a raucous in the room as the students rushed to figure out their partner. Marcella strolled up to the wall, expecting one of the Hufflepuff students. She searched for her name until she found it, placing her delicate fingertip to the page, she slide it across until she found her partner. To her silent dismay, she had been paired with none other than Tom Riddle.

"It looks as if we have been paired together, . Let's begin." He said in a stern fashion. Marcella gave a curt nod before gathering the ingredients quickly, knowing exactly what she needed to carry out the creation of the potion. She walked to their cauldron and was lightly moved to the side by Tom, as he always believed he was in the right and that he could handle such a potion by himself. As he carried out the brewing process, Marcella noticed that he was struggling to cut through the sopophorous bean. As she became impatient with his attempts, she intervened, "Allow me?" she smiled gently, moving him aside and grabbing the blade from his hand, their fingertips brushing softly, both energy fields coming together to create static. She ignored the sensation, knowing her mission must be carried out. She placed the jumping bean on the table in front of her, bringing the blade down to crush it.

As she squeezed the bean juice into the cauldron, Tom watched her, internally seething. _How dare she make me seem like a fool in front of the class!_, he growled in his mind, wanting to hex her on the spot. But during his minutes seething to himself, she had progressed with the potion with ease, humming to herself as she tweaked the process in order to create a more potent concoction. Tom calmed himself and decided to observe her skill, watching as her small, delicate hands carefully adding the elements. As the other students panicked while their potions exploded, or over-spilt, she remained calm and content.

It took a lot to stun Tom Riddle, or even genuinely shock him in the slightest. But he always had assumed that the women of his time disliked work and would much rather babble and gossip.

"There. As good as they come." His thoughts were interrupted by her voice. She brushed her hands off on a nearby cloth and clasped her hands together, awaiting their professor to come and inspect. "Merlin's beard! Quite the fast ones, aren't you?" Slughorn grinned, shuffling over, patting Tom on the back before moving to test the potion. Dropping a single leaf into the concoction, it fizzled and disappeared smoothly. " 'Tis perfect! Job well done! 10 points to Slytherin!" he said, giving out a hearty laugh as he patted Marcella on the shoulder before rushing to the other end of the room where Dolohov and Nott had created an over-spill with their cauldron.

"You would have not struck me as a potions enthusiast, Marcella." Tom chimed in, smiling slyly down at her. Marcella gave off a polite nod before smiling pleasantly. "Yes, my father has a niche for potions himself. If I may add, you were quite lucky to have had me as your partner, or I'm afraid you would have been stuck fighting that sopophorous bean." She smirked, knowing exactly how to tick him off. She often chose to do so in public so he would have no choice but to take it in silence.

Tom composed himself, inhaling slowly to prevent himself from snatching his wand from his robes and cursing her. He opened his eyes after he had calmed and smiled, his eyes piercing her soul. "Yes, I am afraid I would have. But thanks to you, that issue was avoided. I admire your…ways with potions. You are quite the potioneer, Marcella." He smiled, attempting to make the smaller woman fidget or squirm, or at least react. "Yes, I guess I am! But of course not in any way as gifted as you are in Charms. Now that is one skill many would just die to have." She smiled, not even batting an eyelash, her cool façade never fading or quaking under his presence.

Tom decided to be done with the conversation, sitting back down to seethe in silence. If he was a teapot, he would be screaming as the steam exploded from his ears. Tom did not understand why she never quivered or never the less stammered when he jibed at her. This fact infuriated him; no one should be able to stand up to him in such a calm manner. What made her so indifferent? It was as if she could read his every thought, but he could rarely dive into her conscious. He looked over at the silver-haired woman, knowing, desiring to figure out what went on in that brilliant head of hers.


	4. Chapter 4

(Thank you to everyone who has given their generous reviews! I hope you enjoy this chapter, this are going to be turning for the worse! Reviews are welcomed! Enjoy!)

Shatter

Chapter 4

**November 1****st****, 1944; Blomgren Manor**

It was Autumn Holiday, only 2 days in out of the 6 total; Marcella was home at her family's lush mansion amongst the moors. Marcella smiled as her parents described the events of their lives since their beloved daughter had returned to school. The family of fair-hair sat next to a smoldering hearth as they jested and laughed merrily.

"Oh my dear, you would have loved to have met The Blacks, such fine folk, and I believe their son is quite the bachelor for this time." Her mother grinned, her long silver hair had been let down to cascade down her dainty shoulders clad in a fine wool suit.

"Yes darling, if it were in your interest, we could easily make an arrangement…?" Her father inquired, always having his little princess's best interest. He dotted upon his only child, she was the gleaming star to his dark night. "No thank you, father. Cygnus is a little younger than me; in fact he is three years below me." Marcella smirked, hiding her disgust for a man younger than her to even be considered for an even _suitable_ husband. Though, that's what was required in order to keep the gene pool pure and rid of muggle blood.

"Oh, of course. I'm sure whomever my darling finds suitable will be more than we could ask for." Her father remarked, caressing his child's cheek. Mr. Blomgren was a relatively handsome man, with long silvery hair and a well-trimmed beard. His eyes were smoky, flecked with gold, but full of warmth and joy whenever he was surrounded by his family. He always dressed in quite fashionable cloaks and suits, never failing to impress even the several servants at the manor.

While on the other hand, Mrs. Blomgren was a lady of grace and poise, as was her daughter. The woman stepped as if there were small people holding her, being as light as a feather. Her hair was usually found up on top of her head with a tasteful hair-piece to accent off of her silver locks. Both parents were easy on the eyes, as graceful as doves. But when it came to social life, the entire family was elitists, only socializing with nothing less than half-bloods, silently sneering at any muggleborn which crossed their path.

"Father, I think I will retire now. Have a good night." Marcella gave off a gentle smile before kissing her father's hand, before moving to her mother and placing a kiss on her mother's cheek.

"I will see you in the morning, love. Don't spend the night reading now." Her mother softly laughed as she patted her daughter's shoulder before sending her off to the stairs.

Marcella climbed the stairs, passing one house elf who was diligently scrubbing the marble stairs. She passed the small elf, which went by the name of Lilac, before strolling to her bedroom. She sighed happily as she leaped onto her plush bed. She had missed her home, her family, and her beloved cat Urma. Urma mewled before prancing up onto the mattress, curling up beside her owner, her small body vibrating as she purred. Marcella grabbed one of the Dark Arts books she snagged from her father's library, skimming the pages until she found a section that suited her interest: Hexes and Curses. Sighing with content, she became enveloped within the book, marking any spells that she would like to try later on. Before long, her hazel eyes became heavy, and she slowly drifted off into a peaceful sleep…

_ "Where are they, old man?!" hissed a menacing voice._

_ "What in Merlin's Beard are you talking about?!" cried out the once triumphant voice of Mr. Blomgren._

_ "The records! __**Where. Are. They**__?" came in another voice, holding much more power._

Marcella stirred awake slowly, hearing several footsteps around the first floor of her home. She crept to her door and smoothly opened it without a sound. She crept over to the balcony and peered over to see a man with his wand pointing at her father's chest, while her mother was being held back by two cloaked figures. Marcella's eyes widened as she shrunk back out of fear she would be spotted. She crawled back into her room and snatched her wand, enchanting her luggage and wardrobe so they would be able to fit into her robe's pocket. She snuck out again to eavesdrop on the interrogation.

_ "I told you, I have not a clue where the records are! They must be in the ministry vault!"_

_"If you do not show me, Blomgren, I swear you will never see the light of day again. Now, where are they?"_ the voice began to nearly yell, the man becoming agitated, pressing the tip of his wand into her father's neck, digging into the skin.

Marcella bit onto her lower lip hard, restraining to yell out a curse at the men who dared have their hands on her parents. She took a few moments to analyze the situation…and then she came to a realization. Grindelwald had invaded her home, in search for documents that are to help him in his conquests. Marcella held in a gasp and began to panic. _What do I do? I can't just attack, father is wandless and so is mother. Oh Gods what do I do?! , _she thought, trying to devise a plan.

_"I have nothing here for you. Go ahead, curse me. I will not contribute to your cause."_ Her father spoke in a strong tone, holding up whatever dignity that he could muster in front of the darkest wizard the world had ever seen in centuries.

Moments of silence passed, only the sharp breathing from her mother could be heard throughout the house.

Then, those fatal words erupted from Grindelwald's venomous mouth_, "Avada Kedavra!"_ he screamed, a blinding green light erupted from his wand. Soon, it was spoken again; silencing her mother's piercing screams, for good.

Marcella was unaware, before it was too late, that she too had been screaming involuntarily. She covered her mouth and stood fast as the two men in cloaks charged up the two sets of stairs. Marcella let out a shriek before running into her parents room nearby, snatching a brief look at her parents cold, dead bodies lying on the marble floor of the sitting room before slamming the door, barricading it quickly. She ran to the large hearth on the far side of the room as the doors were blown off. She came into eye contact with the man who had just murdered her parents before stepping into the hearth, disappearing into the channel.

Before she knew it, she was flung into the Slytherin Common room, slamming into the table as she was thrown out of the hearth. She began to breathe hard, praying that she was not followed. A few moments passed before she could relax.

_"Marcella…?"_ a smooth voice echoed in her ear as she began to hyperventilate, her head swimming as she weaved in and out of consciousness. The thoughts swimming in her head:

_Mother…Father…Oh Gods…what did you do to deserve this?...Oh Gods…Father…_

She searched for the source of the voice as she grasped for some sense of reality. Her empty eyes were searching all over the Common Room.

"M-Mother…Father…Gr-Grri-Gri-…Grind-…" were her last words before her head began to spin out of control. As the light began to become blotchy in her vision, she saw a flash of a grey suit pass her vision. The overwhelming scent of pine, musk, and a hint of cinnamon caressed her nostrils. Her eyes searched for a face to match the scent with, but all she could make out before a complete black-out was a pair of cerulean blue eyes, and a flash of ink-tinted hair.

The girl had fainted, lying limp in the arms of none other than Tom Riddle himself. He shook her, growling lowly. "Wake up." He huffed, patting her pale cheek. She was unresponsive. He sighed heavily, looking around the Common Room before his eyes landing back on the girl. This was the first time he was close enough to notice her features. Her soft, decently shaped lips, her porcelain complexion. His eyes dared to trail down to her nearly exposed bosom, her night gown dipping low on her chest, exposing a not so lady-like amount of her chest, but still covering the majority of her breasts. He inhaled sharply, his human body trembling as his instincts screamed at him to pounce upon her vulnerable state.

His mind won. He sneered as he inhaled a calming breath before rising to his feet with the girl in his arms. Her small and dainty hands wrapping into fists at the cloth on his chest. He inwardly cringed as he hurriedly walked through the corridors to the infirmary. He arrived and one of the several matrons whisked the girl away. "We'll have this darling back to good health. Is there any cause as to why she is here, Mr. Riddle?" the elderly woman inquired, her quill writing notes by itself on a report sheet. "No, but she came within the Floo Network. She seems rather distraught, Madam." He politely responded, holding in his inward anger and confusion towards the silver-haired girl as she was laid down onto a cot. "Thank you, Mr. Riddle. Have a good evening. Your friend will be better in not time!" the woman cheerfully exclaimed.

_How dare this…this __**succubus**__ attempt to toy with my body. How __**dare**__ she attempt to trick this __**repulsive**__ mortal form of mine into indulging on such a mundane act!_ , He thought to himself as he exited the ward.


	5. Chapter 5

(New Chapter! Yay! Things are beginning to brew! ^^ Please leave reviews! I absolutely love hearing feedback! Enjoy!)

Shatter

Chapter 5

**December 10****th****, 1944**

It had been a month since the tragedy at Blomgren Manor. The students had returned and word spread like wildfire through a dry-grass plain. Marcella was facing either ridicule or pity, and she was having none of the sort. One glance in her direction and she would nearly hex the person. Her friends attempted to comfort her, to get some sort of emotion from her, but each effort was futile.

"Um…Marcie? You know we are here for you, right?" Eleanor whispered in Marcella's direction, her soft voice echoing in the library. Marcella was unresponsive.

"Yeah…if you need anything just te-"

"-If I wanted company, I would have asked for it. If you would be kind enough to leave me be, I would appreciate it." Marcella snapped, her face cold and hard. Her friends frowned and nodded. All three of them turned and left the library to leave Marcella to her studies.

Marcella had become engrossed in the Dark Arts, researching the Unforgivable Curses day in and out, obsessing over the possibility of one day avenging her beloved parents. She jotted down notes vigorously in her notebook, ignoring the outline of a person who was sitting down the aisle from her.

Tom had been watching her every move since the night when she stumbled into the Common Room before him. He had been waiting for her to snap, to kill something, to use her power for what it is worth. But he received no satisfaction. She was holding in her emotions, letting them simmer and then evaporate within her. He could feel the power radiating off of her, the darkness surrounding her small form. This aura made her somewhat appealing, just how she was when she was freshly tormented by the loss of her parents. This…delicious darkness that brewed inside of her was glorious, and he wanted to prompt her release the beast within her.

After hours of endless research in the terribly lit room, Marcella decided it was time for her to get prepared for her prefect duties. She got up abruptly from her table, sending the book to its rightful place, and snatching her belongings before frisking off to the Slytherin corridors.

Her small feet clicked against the stone floors as she hurriedly went to her quarters; she kept her head high, making sure that none of the students would dare speak to her.

As she entered the Common Room, the other students hushed down, hoping she would utter one word, but to their dismay, she walked promptly to her room to set her belongings down. She let out a breath before looking in her reflection. Her hair was a bit out of sorts, her eyes were adorned with heavy bags underneath them, and her shoulder's slightly smaller due to her loss of appetite. She ran her hand through her hair, missing the way her mother would do so when she was but a child. Turning away from the mirror, she grabbed her cloak before setting out to fulfill her prefect duties.

It was a beautiful evening; the first snow of the season was gracing the grounds of Hogwarts, the soft snow coating the castle in a glistening white blanket. Marcella's breath came out in plums of white fog, her body slightly shuddering from the cold weather as she patrolled the halls. She had encountered a few young lovers in the halls, and had promptly given them a weeks' worth of detention. Marcella was also well aware that she was being followed. She decided to take off in a sprint unexpectedly, and then hide behind a pillar down a corridor where she ran to. She heard heavy footsteps clapping against the stone before they stopped, then a whisper of '_Lumos'_ to lighten the surroundings. She heard the footsteps continuing in her direction, and as the stalker passed her by a foot, she stepped out from the shadows.

"It is neither polite nor wise to stalk me, Riddle." She growled, her wand at the ready. She had become quite defensive as of late.

He nearly jumped out of his trousers, unaware that she was capable of such guise. "Pardon me. I was merely fulfilling my duties set upon Headmaster Dippet." He lied through his teeth, putting on a charming smile.

"Duties? To what? Breathe down my neck and stalk me into eternal oblivion?" she inquired, her wand raised high, pointed directly at his chest, more than ready to throw a defense spell his way.

"Dippet merely wants to insure you are safe and well taken care of. He assigned me to be, if needed, a…_shoulder_." Tom smiled coyly, taking one step in her direction, causing her to back away, into the pillar. "He does not need to assign me a _babysitter_. Nor do I need your shoulder, _thank you_." She grimaced up at him, her words like daggers.

Tom had had enough of her disrespect, he sneered and before Marcella could react, he had his hands at her sides, his face inches from hers, nearly hissing down her throat. "You would be wise to not show me such impudence, Ms. Blomgren." His words were like venom, quite contrary to his normal silky tone. She could not help but not stare at him in utter shock; she had never seen him lose control of any sort. Once her mind had registered, her face grew cold again, forcefully shoving him off of her.

"You will not threaten me, Tom." her eyes narrowed at him, her wand nearly stabbing him in the chest. Tom raised his hands, smiling yet again that charming smile of his, peering down at the small woman who thought herself so mighty to attempt to curse him. Though, he had to admit, it was quite amusing seeing her chest rise and fall, the anger brewing within her. "Very well, Marcella. I will back down. But if you will please remove your wand, I did truly wish to speak with you." He spoke, his words prodding at her mind in an attempt to woo her.

Marcella obliged, withdrawing her wand from his broad chest and sheathing it back within her robes. "Alright. What did you wish to speak with me about?" she began to walk without warning, causing Tom to take a few steps to catch up to her fast pace. "Well, I couldn't help wondering why you were reading books from the restricted section. You are reading on quite dark subjects, are you not?" he inquired. As he walked, he stroked the Gaunt ring, remembering that glorious night when he ended that pathetic muggle-of-a-father's life. "Yes, and such subjects are nothing new to you." She stated, well aware of the fact that he was acquainted with the Dark Arts.

"Indeed." He smiled, figuring to be silent for a few minutes while they patrolled.

As the minutes flew by, Tom interrupted the pleasant silence with a disturbing question, "Did you see them perish, your parents?" Marcella cringed at the question, remaining silent and continuing to walk. Tom inquired again, "Did you fight? I remember you having a good number of gashes upon discovering you." Tom wanted to know if this woman had fought off what was the darkest wizard of their time, excluding himself.

"Such questions are very private, Tom." She breathed, taking support on one of the benches, sitting down. The images of her lifeless parents flashing in front of her eyes. Tom sat rather close to her, his arm brushing against hers.

"I did not mean to be intrusive. Sometimes it is quite helpful for one to speak about their troubles. I was only trying to help you, Marcella." He smiled almost too brightly, taking great pleasure in seeing her suffering. But, he suddenly felt a small tinge of remorse as a single tear rolled down her pale cheek and onto the frozen stone floor. _He had finally broken her shell_. Marcella remained silent, holding in the flood of emotions that was brimming, waiting to burst out of her like an exorcism.

Tom reached out and swept the single tear from her soft,warm cheek, knowing that she was now putty in his hands, but he would have to move very quickly before she built up her defenses again. "I never meant to make you feel such sorrow, Marcella. I only hoped to make you feel better by letting you know I was here." His voice pierced her ears, his words oddly gentle and warm, something quite alien when one thought of Tom Riddle.

"I...I know, Tom. I apologize for my harshness. I do not deal with grief very well." She bit down on her plump bottom lip that was now quivering.

Tom smiled slightly, wrapping his arm around her small shoulders, knowing exactly how to comfort a woman, well, at least that is how he read it in the muggle romance books. She hesitated before leaning her silver head against his broad shoulder, closing her eyes and finally, relaxing.

Tom was quite shocked by this, not by the movement, but by the slight stirring of warmth within his abdomen, his stomach felt as if it had flipped. He brushed off the mortal sensations and smirked, resting his chin atop her head.

_ Yes…Yes, you will soon give into temptation, my pet. You knew you couldn't deny me, no one will, no one can. _

Marcella was unaware that she had fallen for the trap that Tom Riddle had set, willingly.


	6. Chapter 6

(AN:: Hello all! I apologize for the delay on publishing this chapter! I had exams as well as I came down with the flu last week! But alas, I am back! I don't quite like this chapter, but it is a plot point needed for the next! All I will say is that things will get light a fluffy for a bit, but then will take a steady nose-dive to darkness. But anywho, enjoy! I hope to hear lots of feedback!)

Shatter

Chapter 6

_December 14__th__, 1944_

A few days had flown by, fresh snow blanketed the ground and the air grew crisp and deprived of warmth. The cloud swirled calmly as a new storm brewed to cake the ground again with its powder. It was a Friday, and a Hogsmeade trip was scheduled for the next day, and luckily before her parents demise, they were able to sign the waiver.

Stretching in her bed, she withdrew the thick emerald curtains before sliding out into her slippers, sauntering off to the lavatory to fix her hair.

She let out a strained yawn and stumbled into the prefect bathroom, shuffling to one of the mirrors and plopping her toiletries bag into the porcelain sink. The sun had just begun to rise through the mountains, and the castle still slept peacefully. Marcella always enjoyed to rise early, therefore she could walk in peace and without being bothered. She was never a morning person, but what always made her mornings worse were babbling girls in her ear before she had even had her morning tea.

Following washing her face and brushing her teeth, she laid a thin covering of makeup on her already smooth face, just enough to enhance her features and make her look less exhausted.

Marcella had not been able to sleep properly for over a month. Even after laying her parents to rest she still could not escape the horrid sight of that night in her slumber.

Sighing with a yawn, Marcella grabbed her belongings and shuffled back to her dormitory to get dressed for the last day of the week. She slid on her blouse and cardigan, her wool skirt and stockings, and lastly her Mary Jane shoes that glistened in the morning light. Grabbing her cloak and supplies, she creeped out of the room again as her roommates began to just awaken, wanting no business with being bothered at breakfast.

Marcella's heels clicked against the stone corridors as she rounded towards the Great Hall. She did not bother to stop when Peeves began to sing a silly little tune on how he thought that she and Tom were together. She practically scoffed at the annoying poltergeist and headed straight to the Slytherin table, loading up her plate and getting back to reading quietly, as she did not wish to converse.

Slowly the hall filled with sleepy, noisy children and she snuck out into the courtyard without being noticed, sighing peacefully as the cold air brushed her face, her hot breath creating steam. She stayed out in the cold winter air, creating small ice figurines in her palm until the bells chimed throughout the courtyard; the buzz of the students filled the covered hallways surrounding her signalling 10 minutes until classes begun for the day. She picked up her satchel and hurried off for another day of class.

Finally, it was the last class of the day, and one of her favourites to say the least. Professor Slughorn greeted her with a warm, and almost understanding smile as she walked in. "Hello, . I hope you will be attending the Hogsmeade gathering tomorrow?" he inquired, his eyebrow raising almost inhumanly high as he sorted through the days materials. "Yes, sir. I would not miss it for the world." she smiled pleasantly at him before taking her seat near the front. "Ah yes! Splendid, my dear! I would love to ask if you would like to meet for a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks after you finish your holiday shopping?" he smiled crookedly. Marcella simply nodded and smiled softly, not exactly up for small talk at the time being, she merely wanted to get to brewing.

As the rest of the students flooded in, she looked up in time to see Tom take his seat across the aisle from her, and for him to give her a cool, gentle smile that would otherwise melt a naive girls heart, but for Marcella it only made her feel somewhat uncomfortable, since smiles were nearly unspoken of from Tom Riddle. She decided to look straight ahead and to pay attention to Slughorn as he babbled about their project for the day.

"Now class! What I have here for you is a sample for Amortentia, most commonly known as-"

"The love potion...sir.." Marcella chirped up, becoming slightly impatient with his slow means of speaking.

"That is correct, Ms. Blomgren! The love potion, and the strongest at that." he smiled at her before continuing, "Now, when one wafts the potion to their nose, each scent is different depending on what attracts them. Anyone care to volunteer to give it a whiff?" he grinned and motioned for one of the Ravenclaw girls to step forward.

The girl closed her eyes and inhaled, letting out a breathy answer, "Roses, freshly groomed Quidditch grounds...a-and lavender tea…" the girl blushed as she glanced over at the strapping seeker for the Ravenclaw Quidditch team before retreating to her spot.

"Ms. Blomgren, care to indulge us?" Slughorn smiled as he gestured her to come forth minus her initial reluctance. Marcella got up slowly and smiled coolly before stepping forth to the cauldron. She closed her eyes and wafted the scent to her nose instead of inhaling like a buffoon. "Nutmeg...with old musty books...and then a hint of pine needle…" she mustered out before smirking softly. She nodded once before strolling back to her seat, but on the way was met with the piercing eyes of Tom Riddle, as if he was searching her soul.

"Tom, m'boy! Come on down, will you?!" Slughorn roared cheerfully. Tom closed his eyes, gritting his teeth before opening his dazzling eyes and giving off a cold, biting smile as he stood. "Yes...come, come, m'boy." Slughorn encouraged, patting Tom on the shoulder as he approached. He then walked slowly to the cauldron, and the girls of the class crept closer to the front of the room, eager to know which perfumes to buy in hopes to snag his attention the next time they pass him in the corridors.

The scent caressed Tom's nostrils, "Chamomile...fresh snow...and...a touch of lilac, I believe so, sir." Tom smiled politely before slithering back to his desk, the girls sighing dreamily as they took mental note of what to smell like from now on. Marcella scoffed with distaste for the hungry girls under her breath, only audible for Tom to be able to hear.

"Oh-ho! Well, I see that would be very helpful for the ladies, isn't that right, m'boy?" Slughorn remarked in regard to the nearly faint girls in the room, minus a one sneering Marcella that was completely disgusted by the other girls who would practically tear their knickers off for the boy. Tom only smiled politely and nodded, letting a smooth glance go over his shoulder to the girls, one of the Ravenclaws nearly falling back on her arse. Marcella let out a small scoff before regaining composure. She knew very well about how Tom could woo a girl, since he did just so within the last few weeks towards herself. In fact he did so successfully, but her stubbornness prevented her from transforming into another one of the blabbering bimbos.

Slughorn sent them off on their task to make a sample of Befuddlement Draught, a not at all challenging potion, but getting it wrong would cause major side-effects for the consumer. As Marcella brewed, she found peace in concocting a simple potion, getting lost in the midst of stirring and measuring. As she worked, she quietly hummed a muggle tune she heard while shopping in London the summer before. Tom's ears caught the familiar tune and shot a quizzical glance her way before resuming his task. After half of the class period being over, Tom finished and presented his potion to Slughorn who commended him on his swiftness and accuracy. Tom took the compliment gladly before sitting down.

While Marcella worked on finalizing her potion, a small paper bird fluttered to her and landed on the edge of her cauldron. She smirked and plucked it up, unfolding its wings and itself to read whatever message was held inside, expecting it to be from Eleanor. She was genuinely surprised at what she read:

_Dear Marcella,_

_I am writing to you to ask you a rather important question. I am inquiring if you would like to accompany me tomorrow to Hogsmeade. I wish to speak with you as well._

_Tom_

_PS~ I hope you enjoyed the dove. _

Marcella's mouth was slightly agape as she read the letter over and over again. She

smirked and conjured up a small note and morphed it to become a butterfly, she raised the paper insect to her lips and blew gently to send it on its way across the room. It landed on Tom's shoulder and read as so:

_Dear Tom,_

_I would be delighted to accompany you. Thank you for asking. _

_Marcella_

_PS~ Very creative of you, not at all like in the novels!_

Tom smirked at her remark, detecting the heavy sarcasm and stuffing the note into one of his many books stacked before him. The bell tower rung and signified the end of the day and the week. The students rushed out as Marcella made her way to her belongings at the front of the room. She stopped and furrowed her brows with confusion as she saw that her belongings were nowhere to be found. Someone cleared their throat and she spun on her heel to look at Tom with her satchel in hand, giving off a slight smile before gesturing for her to follow him out the door.

As they walked down to the dungeons in silence, Marcella counted the steps in order to keep her mind occupied, since anytime her mind was able to stray, it snapped back to that fateful night.

The two made it to the Slytherin common room and Tom stopped her after giving back her satchel as she went to ascend the stairs. His hands

folded behind his back as he towered over his prey.

"Tomorrow, wear something nice. Do not disappoint me, understood?" he smiled deviously down at her. Marcella gave off a look of confusion

and almost laughed before realizing he was serious. She then nodded and gave off a gentle smile before making her way up the staircase to her

dormitory, muttering to herself, "Well that was not odd at all..!" she shook her head lightly as she climbed the steep stairwell.


End file.
