You didn't speak to him for the rest of break. You did not question why he hadn't gone after his family, you did not question why he hadn't spoken a word abut it, and he was oddly thankful for that. He wasn't sure how he could explain the insane joy he was feeling from murdering three people and sending another to Azkaban without sounding completely insane. Though you of all people would be able to understand.
He had still not been able to process the fact that you were not human. He wasn't sure why, it wasn't that surprising, and it made sense, but he was annoyed he had not seen it by himself. He was also annoyed you hadn't told him earlier. There was something about the knowledge that made you that much more alluring, more unique. There was no one in the world who was like you, and you were his, even if you didn't know it yet.
He fiddled with the ring on his finger as he gazed out of the Hogwarts' Express window. You had left his company when they had gotten onto the train, mentioning you had seen a friend. He wondered who else knew your secret. Zara, perhaps? Of course the other girl was so nosy she might have found out by herself. Did any of the professors know? Surely Dumbledore must have known something was different about you. Or maybe the old man wasn't as smart as he had once thought. Maybe his biases would keep him from finding out the secrets that lay within the school he taught.
There were also times when he wondered if you were using him as much as he was using you. The way that you would tell him just enough to keep his interests forever piqued, but never enough to actually come to a conclusion of any sort. Certainly the way he was oddly drawn to you had to be some sort of manipulation. He laughed at the notion.
He was a master manipulator. On the outside he was charming, attractive, kind, thoughtful, humble, star student. Teachers adored him, younger students and older students flocked to him. Girls, and quite a few boys, were drawn to his appearance. He was known to stand up for those who didn't quite fit in. He was a Quidditch player, with a bright future in anything he would choose. Yet deep down he knew he was really not what anyone thought. He was now a murderer, and some childish part of him wondered if people would be able to tell.
*
When Tom arrived back in the castle he went straight to his dormitory. Luckily the other boys were not there to interrogate him, and he had a few moments of peace, which he used to hide the Gaunt ring. He thought it would be a bad idea to carry it around with him in plain sight, not knowing what the symbol on the stone meant, or who might recognize it.
He was so occupied by this that he didn't see you get dragged off to Dumbledore's office. In fact, it wasn't until William Avery and Abraxas Malfoy walked into the dorm that he knew there was something wrong at all. "I wonder what happened."
"My father said her uncle was furious."
"When is that man ever not? He's a menace."
"Tom do you know what's happening with Ivetta?"
He wheeled around, no longer ignoring them. "What do you mean, Avery?"
"I mean Dumbledore grabbed her right when we were getting off the train, I'm surprised you didn't see it, half the school did." He was already halfway out the door before the boys could tell him anything else. Dumbledore's office door was closed, but a quick charm and he could hear everything that was going on. He was relieved to hear that your uncle wasn't there, surely he couldn't deign to go down to Hogwarts for an issue such as this. He was confused why Dumbledore was handling this. Surely it was something Slughorn should do, as the head of house.
He quieted his thoughts as he heard you speak. "I was with a friend in Russia, Professor. As I've said before." It was odd hearing the difference in wizards and muggles referring to the country. He supposed muggle wars did not affect wizarding worlds. He was, however, relieved that you were not giving anything away.
"You see, Ms. Alexandrov, I don't quite believe you. Surely that could have been something you informed your uncle of."
"It must have slipped through the cracks." He could almost see the old man rolling his eyes.
"What about the whereabouts of Tom Riddle?" He tensed.
"I suppose he went wherever he goes during the holidays. We don't discuss such trivial things."
"Ah. I had come to the conclusion you two were rather close."
"We have somewhat of a symbiotic relationship." Tom rolled his eyes. Who else would ever use that to describe a not really friendship.
"Would you care to explain that?" Now it was your eyeroll he could see.
"I'm mildly entertaining, and Tom is amazing at writing essays." There was a long silence, and even through the closed office door the tension was still palpable. "Now why am I here?"
"Your uncle has been worried about you." Tom had to stop a scoff, but could hear your laugh.
"Don't lie. My uncle has expressed his dissatisfaction to me already. I was hand delivered a howler-" You had told him before that you had an odd talent in getting owls to fly away with letters you didn't want, hence the hand delivering-"detailing exactly what the repercussions were going to be. Trust me when I tell you that he doesn't want the school administration concerned with that. And if he was-by some miracle-worried, he would have told my head of house. Now cut to the chase."
"Ms. Alexandrov I know you have been approached by Grindelwald." Tom leaned closer to the door, just barely holding himself back from throwing it open. How annoying that Dumbledore could figure it out but he had needed veritaserum.
"What is your proof for this...accusation?" The venom in your voice was a lot more enjoyable when not directed at him.
"That is neither here nor there. The real fact of the matter is that I can help you, Ivetta. He is a very convincing individual, and I don't know what it is he offered you but-"
"Exactly Professor. You don't know what he had to offer. And you can not possibly understand my motivations. But I want to make one thing very clear. If you try to expose me I will deny it. My uncle will deny it. My friends will deny it. It will look like one old professor who has a known bias against a group of students has finally gone senile. We both know your proof is nothing more than a hunch. The only reason I confirmed it was as warning." There was a pause, and then, "If it makes you feel better, no harm will come to this school or the people in it by my hand, connected to Grindelwald, that is. And that wasn't where I was this break." A chair scraped, and he backed away just before the door opened.
He stood against the wall until the office door closed, careful Dumbledore would not see him. "It's rude to eavesdrop, Tom."
He followed you down the hallway. "You've been ignoring me since the moment you could."
"We've been in a close proximity for a week Riddle. I hate to be the first to tell you this, but no sane person should spend that much time with you."
"I'm starting to get the impression that you aren't completely sane. And after that little display I overheard, I think Dumbledore might be to. What are you thinking, dealing with him?" Much to his frustration, you only laughed.
"Dumbledore will do me no harm. He is incapable of accepting that someone he thinks of as good isn't. He thinks that I was hoodwinked. The ridiculous old man always has to see the good in people." Dumbledore always failed to see the good in him. The Professor was probably right about that, there wasn't a lot-if there was any.
"Follow me." He offered no explanation, but noticed you still trudged after him, a second shadow. He walked to the room where he knew his Knights were waiting. However before he opened the door he wondered if he was making a mistake. You were...unpredictable. And as he was starting to realise, uncontrollable. Powerful too, more so than he had ever imagined before last week. Yet for some reason you were still drawn to him, which was, in the end, the reason he changed his mind. You could not be another one of his Knights, could not know of their existence, because if all else failed he needed your power to still be intact, to forever be his shadow.
"I could have walked to the library alone. In fact I would have preferred to." He thanked whatever god was listening that there wasn't anyone nearby as he wheeled around.
"I think there's something you're failing to understand, Ivetta." Your gaze met his, and he was annoyed by the lack of fear in your eyes. "We are not-nor will we ever be-equals. What you said to Dumbledore was very true. I can get you what you want, and I'm smart enough to know things will be easier with you on my side. We are not friends." He didn't know what had made him snap. He wished you would show some sort of emotion, have some sort of reaction, but he was looking down into a completely blank face.
"I never said we were. Now are you going to get out of my way, or will I have to move you." He regained some composure, putting back his shield, his loveable orphan façade he displayed for most. He grabbed your wrist before you could walk away.
"I only ask for respect."
"You ask for something that is earned and not taken. Now take your hand off me before I remove it from your body." He took his chances with the hand.
"You know what I did. Why aren't you intimidated? Scared?"
You scoffed. "It takes more than patricide to scare me, Riddle. Your father deserved what he got, even if I might have disagreed to the method. And if you think I didn't know you were capable of murder ages ago, you are more of a fool than I thought."
"What would scare you away from me then? What could convince you to fear me." You laughed at him again, and were aboit to say something when he acted In hindsight, what he did next was very stupid. But in the moment, seeing the smallest flash of fear when he shoved you against the wall of the corridor was incredibly satisfying. "So that's what it is? Not magic."
His hands burned and his hold on you relinquished, and he watched as you stalked away, making a very rude gesture. He knew it would be days, possibly weeks, before you spoke to him again, but he did feel a little relieved. Although you might be able to match him-to a certain extent- in magic, you would never be able to physically overpower him.
Your deer in the headlights face flashed back to him and he allowed himself a small victorious smile. You had never expected him to do that. Was it enough to fear? No, he didn't think so. But maybe after his plans with Zara, you would finally come to see him for who he truly was.
He was so tired of the game he had perfected. Top student, respected, impressionable, adored and humble. Never abusing his power, looked down on by some but adored by most. He was sick of it. And you were the only person he allowed to see him without his mask. Yet you didn't shy away. It was not a struggle to keep you from running. It was more of a game of cat and cat than the one he craved of cat and mouse.
He smiled as that look of fear burned its way into his memory. You would fear him, respect him, worship him, follow him. And best of all is that you would do it of your own accord.