The year is 2018. I'm on Quotev absentmindedly browsing through stories when I find it: a romantic fanfic involving young Voldemort. "What the feck?" I ask myself, as I click it out of morbid curiosity, unknowingly discovering the part of the internet that romanticizes a murderer because the actor who played teenage him was conventionally attractive. "This is pretty bad." I say to myself offhandedly, "I could do better." Those were, of course, my famous last words.
Prettyboy McSnakeheir has a crush on a girl and doesn't know how to deal with it.
Tom Riddle attempts to navigate the prejudiced wizarding world alongside sharp-minded girls, influential boys, and he does not at all have a crush, crushes are stupid and he is a perfectly, reasonable, level-headed boy of eleven, he does not have a crush. | An attempt at a realistic, critical view of both the Harry Potter world, and Tom Riddle having a plausible love interest. Updates every 2-4 weeks. Crossposted.
Men become accustomed to poison by degrees - Victor Hugo
It is October 1949: Lycus Malfoy is dying, quarantined in his house alone but for his wife, Adelaide, who still hopes there is a miracle cure; Eileen Prince has vanished into a Muggle life, washing the dead and arranging flowers, away from the sneers she endured at school; Cygnus and Orion Black are at war with each other even as they bury their secrets six feet deep.
There is a murderer on the loose, shrouded in paranoia, and the old structures, things of blood and age and time, are starting to crumble.
And a ship arrives from Lübeck bringing Tom Riddle home.
|| Nargles 2018 Winner: Best Description ||
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Banner by Noelle Zingarella
Isidore Carter had many dreams; Tom was only but one.
For something wicked's Evil Incorporated Challenge
They say Cygnus Black is dying. They say he cannot go home.
Lord Voldemort hovers somewhere between revenge and mercy.
There's blood on my hands and his voice is in my ear, I look into the mirror and for the first time a monster looks back.
Tatiana Dolohov would have everything she had ever wanted.
She would make sure of it.
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Fifth year is not what Hero Blishwick expected it to be.
As she navigates the stormy waters of OWL year, friendships are broken, mysteries aren't hard to come by, the line between good and bad blurs and Tom Riddle becomes her anchor. But new loves can be dangerous.
And not all monsters have terrible faces.
In death we are reborn anew; though the death doesn't have to be ours.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted
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She was his possession; she was his obsession.
This is not a love story.