The bombs begin to fall on London in the humid summer of 1941. Before the Horcruxes, before the realization of his infamous ancestor, all Tom Riddle has is his wits and his skill. He has choices to make.

Yes, unfortunately' was all that was coherent in her long string of mumbled words. He smiled at her. She wanted to be sick. Love is such a fickle thing. R&R THIS IS GOING UNDER A RE-WRITE, AWH YAH.