A man with a weakness is better off dead.
A man without one is not human.
But humanity can be spared for power, for ultimate control. For anything and everything.
But maybe that idiotic sense of humanity can offer more. Much more than a man can endu...
{Note: Reg = Reginald Cattermole, a canon character that the fanon character "Mary Crones" is with}
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They waved at each other through partol like they were fucking best friends. His memory burned with the hug, her lips next to his ear as she had whispered "We're being watched". By who?
He had double checked everywhere around them. Empty marble corridors with loud portraits and a few spiders in a corner.
Which weren't animagi. He checked.
Was this her way to avoid their conversation? He bristled at the thought of Dumbledore being a thorn in his plans again. Or Dumbledore using her for his plans.
And here they fucking were again. She met him at the end of the final patrol in the left wing, a smile plastered at her face as if she saw a friend. She waved again.
A polite, fake smile that he had perfected during the years plastered to his stony face. He felt his head nod at her wave.
"Goodnight then, Riddle!" She sprinted.
Fuck no.
"Hey, Warren -"
He grabbed her arm to bring her close. She kept the smile on her face, though as she came closer, he realised it was fake. Her eyes were wide, alarmed. Silently telling him "not now" and he got the message.
What the fuck - who was watching them? No one was around. He felt confused and frustrated, having to pretend for someone who wasn't really there.
He cleared his throat.
"I wanted to ask if I'll see you tomorrow for our meeting, Warren. That's all." Obviously there was no meeting discussed prior. But fuck it. He could play along to this joke. When he'd find her, he'd talk as he wanted. He'd place wards. She'd explain everything, and for her sake he hoped she had a good excuse.
She patted his chest as she spoke, and he immediately realised she was slipping a tiny piece of paper in his breast pocket. He stiffened involuntarily at her hand on his chest, but he focused on her eyes - why was she so close again? - instead. Not to seem suspicious. From whom? No idea.
"Of course. Goodnight!" And she strolled behind him towards the Ravenclaw tower, leaving a trail of her shampoo - sweet fresh peonies - behind. Like nothing happened.
Merlin help him, women were insane.
His brain told him she was, in fact, crazy. He could open the paper right there. Merlin, he could stop her and make her speak if he wanted to.
But his usually cold and unresponsive heart told him to trust what she was hinting about. To listen to his gut.
And he did.
He waited until he closed the door of his personal room till he impatiantly opened the crumpled piece of paper.
Muggle paper.
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