Means To An End || Tom Riddle Story

Twenty-Three

Cosette had avoided the shop for two whole weeks and had still refused to speak to Tom. He had expected her to boycott the shop for a day or two out of spite, but now knowing what he knows, he wondered what was preventing her to come in to look for the locket. Not that it mattered. The locket wasn't here and never has been since Mr. Burke sold it, at least to Tom's knowledge.

The time he spent away from Cosette was ample for him to digest the information he acquired from her mind. He was still furious. But, no longer to the point where he felt like killing her. Although, he hadn't seen her except from a distance when she walked past the shop daily to the White Wyvern. She never so much as glanced in his direction. He was thankful for that, seeing as he had no idea how he would react if she stepped foot in his presence.

Now that he knew what Cosette was looking for, the question was why? He spent the last two weeks trying to piece together the information. She was clearly seeking the locket. A relic that he, himself, was also in search of, and had a very promising lead. Which reminded him he needed to schedule a visit to Hepzibah Smith.

She spoke to Rose Mantos who was a profound Seer and knew many of his secrets. What had Rose divulged to Cosette? That his name was Lord Voldemort. That much was promising. But to what extent? Did she know about his Horcruxes? Did she know about the diary and his quest for the other Hogwarts founders relics? Did she know that he planned on becoming the greatest sorcerer in the world? That he would not hesitate to slaughter everyone who got in his way?

He racked his brain daily, searching for answers in thin air. None of it made sense. None of it. How had Cosette Travers been thrown into his world effortlessly? How did she piece herself into his life?

He had no answers. His only objective now was to find the locket before Cosette. Whatever reason she wanted it for was unimportant. He had greater plans for it and he needed it.

The bell on top of the door of Borgin and Burke's tinkled. Tom snapped his head up from the book he was skimming and looked towards the entrance. Cosette had stepped through the front door. An immense feeling of satisfaction coursed through his body as he smirked and slid out from behind the counter.

"Welcome back," he mused as he stepped in front of her. She was wearing a long buttoned down coat to shield herself from the freezing winter air. Her hair was twisted back into an elegant plait and she clutched her brown handbag to her side as Tom towered over her. He relished in her discomfort.

"Hi," she said, barely audible.

"I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me," he teased. "You even missed my birthday party."

Her eyes cut up at him, clearly shocked. "I didn't know it was your — I mean I didn't know I was invited."

He rolled his eyes. "I didn't have a birthday party, Cosette. Two short weeks without me and it's like you don't know me at all."

"Oh," she said once she realized he was being sarcastic. "Well... happy birthday."

"Can I help you find anything today?" he asked, knowing full and well she would reject his offer. A sense of pride overwhelmed him as he basked in the achievement of finally knowing something she does not. He would definitely enjoy holding this over her head. He kept imagining what her face would look like once she figured it out. And she would eventually. He would make sure of that.

"I'm fine. Thank you," she said as she scanned the shelves. Tom's gaze followed hers but then trained his focus back on her.

His anger was slowly resurfacing as she watched her casually browse the shelves, keeping secrets from him. He wanted to tell her to get the hell out of the shop and never return. She'd never get her hands on the locket if he had anything to do with it.