For the Greater Good || Tom Riddle ||

Chapter Twenty-Four: Midnight Rain

The streets of Diagon Alley were slick with rain, and every step threatened to stain his dragonhide loafers. The windows of shops glowed with familiar candlelight, enticing window shoppers to come inside and buy their goods, but such useless sentiments were lost on him.

Tom Riddle was throes deep in an anguished mental war.

As he pivoted down the narrow lanes with uneven steps and stagnant puddles, the wizard wanted nothing more than to banish every persistent thought, ruminating feeling, and whatever sort of deplorable sickness was plaguing his mind.

It had been days since the gala, but yet he hadn't managed to properly plan his next move.

If you're focused only on your enemy's weapon, you'll always be on the defensive. But first, you have to determine what they're trying to kill you with.

And that was just his problem.

Tom was wise enough to know that everyone, everyone, had their own machinations. People would always put themselves first. From a spoiled child wanting something as simple as a chocolate frog to a grandmother determined to voice her opinion as matriarch, everyone was up to something to make the dominos fall in their direction.

Only some were smart enough to conceal their cards. Only some were also able to look beyond the weapon and home in on the target—to dial in enough focus to really seize what they really wanted. 

Fear was the only reliable way to control people.

Is it? A tiny voice spoke up in his head.

The image of winter cream hands holding a crystal glass of champagne came to his mind.

Initially, no words appeared before him in the aftermath of their encounter.

He did not wish to acknowledge that a simple touch of her fingertips was enough to light the fuse of chaos within him, a series of chain reactions that imploded under his skin and made his heart race and his frozen veins thaw. It felt as though he had been awoken from a long slumber, her magic flowing around him and revitalizing him in a sequence of countermoves that unraveled his formula and caused the solution to all of life's problems to tumble out of the tomb and tattoo the air for everyone to see.

And though he would not admit the effect of seeing her again on his being, Tom Riddle knew he'd be a fool to underestimate her. He was aware of what Gwen was capable of. And he sensed a new pool of power boiling inside of her, waiting to be unleashed.

So, what was her plot?

Why was she really at the Lee's gala?

He didn't buy that she was just a translator for those two Japanese oafs.

Was she hired protection? If so, why? Had they expected an attack?

Why had it appeared that one of them was her date?

A flame fueled within him at the thought of their entangled arms but was quickly quelled by the fact that she had in fact left on his arm that night.

The other man did not matter. He would make sure he wouldn't even exist in Gwen's mind.

Nonetheless, the serendipity of it all was... strange.

What was the likelihood that she was attending an event that his Death Eaters were scouting?

Why was she talking to that muggle-sympathizer, Mauricio Sia?

What happened to her job at the Ministry?

And why, for Merlin's sake, hadn't he asked her these questions after he had the bartender slip the most powerful truth serum into her champagne flute?