” I was babbling and inwardly I cringed. “What a fucking idiot I must sound,” I was saying in my head, “great, great, great.” She stepped closer, only an arm’s length away. She smiled but it was not her usual bright beaming smile. I followed instinct and hopped over the fence. She started to meekly protest but as I neared her, Michelle’s eyes rose and looked into mine. Her eyes looked sad and there were the first hints of tears welling in the corners. “I was scared, Ray.” She said looking straight at me. “Scared of what we did, what I did, scared I had lead you on, scared for myself that it would all get out of hand……” She sobbed and sniffed, and then apologised for the loud sniff which made me chuckle. “I don’t know what I am saying, sorry.” Her tears were flowing quite freely now, streaming down her cheeks and onto my chest, as I wrapped her in my arms to comfort her. “I feel exactly the same as you, dear neighbour.” I said softly into her hair as I cradled her in my arms. I. Tom Riddle, even before he assumed the persona of the made up pureblood character of Lord Voldemort, was obsessed with elegance and dignity. As a young man, he went to see any plays or theatrics that involved the speech of upper crust aristocrats, spending hours perfecting his mannerisms and speech until they practically scream out to everyone that he was someone of importance and breeding. He played his part so well that the pureblood idiots fell all over themselves to kiss the hem of his robe since he was obviously of higher breeding than the most ancient of them all. The voice that came out of his new body had none of the nobility and class that he had worked so hard to perfect; instead, it was full of uncertainty, cluelessness, and an odd squeak here and there. Riddle turned to stare at Wormtail in annoyance about the fact that he hadn't been robed, and was met with the last thing he ever expected. Before him was his servant passed out, apparently from blood loss and shock at.
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