𝕬 𝕯𝖆𝖗𝖐 𝕷𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖎𝖘 𝕭𝖔𝖗𝖓 | 𝑇𝑜𝑚 𝑅𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒 |

Chapter 58- Yet Another Promise

"Rodger Day—it's nice to see you again," Tom answered him, politely. He knew Frankie's hazel eyes were upon him and he instantly shifted into the polite party manners he had spent his years developing at Slughorn's soirees. "Did you enjoy the ceremony, even though this idiot dragged you along as unnecessary back up?"

"It was fine, not really what I was expecting out of a Slytherin wedding though." Rodger answered, truthfully.

"What were you expecting? Tying their arms with snakes? Drinking Basilisk venom out of silver goblets?" Tom exclaimed, in an unintentional crude manner.

"Something along those lines." Rodger laughed, thinking it was some kind of joke. Tom had been quite serious. Besides the self-refilling champagne glasses and magical wizard instruments, it was hardly any different from a muggle wedding.

"The same is said for me. I've never been to any weddings, magical or not, but I was expecting something more spectacular. Where's the theatrics? We're wizards, for god's sake." Tom answered, truthfully.

"Oh, Tom..." she sighed, like a disappointed mother, while Rodger laughed and patted him on the shoulder. Hagrid made a blockade with Dumbledore behind him, and they shoved their way through the crowd, making everyone spill wine and fire whiskey on themselves, not braced for impact. Frankie and Rodger laughed, as they unknowingly walked up to them probably having ruined at least 300 galleons worth of fancy dress. Tom, however, unable to laugh was too busy glaring at Hagrid.

"Riddle." Hagrid grunted, spitefully and full of utter loathing. After all this time, nothing had changed, but Tom really couldn't blame him for it though. If someone had done the same thing to him, they would most definitely be dead by now.

"Rubeus." Tom hissed back, just as spiteful as him.

"Hello, Tom! It's so good to see you." Dumbledore greeted, cutting through the thick fog of hate like it wasn't even there. Tom and Hagrid ceased glaring immediately. In the presence of a wizard like Albus Dumbledore, you didn't want to be glaring like a child, or at least that's how Hagrid thought. Tom didn't want to give Dumbledore anymore of a reason not to trust him.

"How are you, sir?" Tom asked, suddenly, putting up his polite manners again.

"I've just been thinking about how fast you are all growing up. Why it seemed only yesterday you were just a bunch of eleven-year old kids, sitting in my Transfiguration class." Dumbledore smiled, obviously thinking of some of the splendid days they had in school from the very first to the very last. "It makes me feel rather old."

"You don't look a day over twenty, sir." Tom joked, trying to sound modest and kind, yet was still trying to hold back his childish glare. Instead of laughing along as well, Hagrid had audibly scoffed at him.

"Thank you, Tom. But soon I will probably be sporting a long white beard like a few of the men here. My time is near." Dumbledore replied, with a far-off gaze in his eyes. No one dared to comment. The young group was clearly not ready to conversate lightly on the subject of death. Especially since one of them had been dead once already. He quickly gathered he was creating somewhat an uncomfortable air amongst the group. "I believe I see a bit of brandy at the drinks table—if you would excuse me for a moment..."

They all watched the old man leave for the drinks table, leaving the group feeling too youthful. It became hard to seem mature when everyone around them was over thirty at least and probably have had sticks up their bums since they were seventeen.

"—Alright, I guess it's as good a time as any for our heart-to-heart chat, Tom. Hagrid—you keep watch on Frankie, while we're gone." Rodger ordered, as he gained seniority and authority over the group. Hagrid gave a salute and Rodger indicated for Tom to follow him into the crowd.