For the Greater Good || Tom Riddle ||

Chapter Twenty-Three: Developments

As a child, observation taught her rules such as: never say more than what's necessary, do not offend the wrong person, and assume a formlessness that allows you to be flexible. These things were a protective coating to her young-seeded mind—each tenet allowed her to avoid punishment and remain in good-standing with her sometimes loving sometimes horribly stern family.

There were others she learned as an adolescent, through experience, like selective honesty and the art of timing. Not revealing her cards too quickly made extra opportunity for others to reveal theirs first, and occasionally, she would fall into pieces of information that allowed her to come up with a better plot to get what she wanted. And not saying too much always gave her the freedom to change the tide as she saw fit.

But adulthood as a woman in post-war Europe solidified that entering action with tactical boldness tended to catch people off guard, and when people were not at their best, they were at their worst, and could be easily manipulated.

Even though she knew this, Gwendolyn Gawmdrey was still fighting surprise when Tom Riddle suggested they go for a drink at Nepenthe and Billywig—a high-end bar in magical London, "not too far from here".

As they stood outside the glass doors, Gwen noted to herself the irony of the alcohol-serving establishment's name.

Nepenthe, a potion used by the ancients to induce forgetfulness of pain or sorrow. And a Billywig's sting induces an insufferable giddiness, followed by literal levitation.

It seemed like a healthy coping mechanism, indeed, for going out for a drink with a ghost from her past.

At least, that's what she thought as she entered the sleek haunt with its plush leather seating, dimmed lighting oozing pure glamour and opulence from top to toe, and golden wing-shaped handle.

Nepenthe and Billywig featured Art Deco-inspired interiors, luxurious furnishings and cocktails that made Gwen's eyebrows raise.

Another thing that made her eyebrows raise was Tom Riddle's hand on her back, inches from where it very much was not supposed to be. With narrowed eyes, she sent a nonverbal, wandless shock down her spine that seized his hand with a snap of electricity.

Tom quickly retracted, sending a scathing glance downward, but Gwen only met him with a sly smirk. The low lighting, comprised of Glow Bugs and crystal glass, made the look appear all the more alluring.

"Careful," she whispered with intrigue, her teeth flashing with fae-like menace.

Tom merely swept his gaze forward with a roll of his eyes and a devilish smirk.

A man wearing a host outfit of black and white appeared before them. "Bar or table?" he asked as he held two menus.

Tom answered for them without so much as a glance in Gwen's direction.

"Table."

The waiter nodded. "Alright, follow me."

Entering farther into the establishment, they walked by pairs of witches and wizards wearing outrageous hats of Fenny snakeskin and feathers undoubtedly belonging to a poisonous duck, with one man donning a top hat fashioned with jackalope antlers on either side of the brim as he guzzled down a beverage that made his hiccups spark with a strange purple fire. Gwen didn't let her gaze linger for long as the pair finally arrived at an empty table toward the back of the bar, away from the chatter.

A perfect spot not to be overheard.

"I'll leave you here. Please let us know when you are ready to order." With that, the waiter scurried off.

Gwen watched him leave briefly, a sour feeling growing in her gut that they were know alone among strangers, out in society. Tom, a ringleader of dark machinations and her... the ill-fated kin of a man who had doomed so many. A parasite destined to doom whatever thing she was involved with.