Masquerade- Tom Riddle Fanfiction

What Map?

"So sit down for a spell, Robins," I heard Tom say, his eyes gleaming with triumph, "and why don't we talk about this entrancing map of yours?" 

   At first, I played dumb. Surprisingly, it wasn't that hard. "What map?" I asked, forcing myself to look as stupid as possible but my act couldn't even fool a block of wood. Or a Rosier for that matter. But I think both are interchangeable. 

   Tom Riddle simply flicked away a stray hair from his face that was invisible to the eyes of everyone else. "Leave us," he commanded his lackeys, who scurried away immediately, except for Malfoy. 

   "My Lord," he began hesitantly, but a slight lift of his eyebrows sealed his fate. He winced in pain, as if he had been burned by a hot poker, but Tom's face remained impassive. Bowing out quickly, he fled out of the bookshelves. 

     "Well, Robins," Tom addressed; propping his feet up on the table, while spreading his arms, "you can stop playing these charades. You and I both know the mask that you wear, no, that you put so much effort into." 

   "Funny," I said dryly, "but if I wear a mask, Riddle, you put on an entire masquerade." 

    He cocked his head to the side, his hand still held onto the map. "In what way, Robins?" he asked pleasantly, as if he had no idea of what I was talking about, "please, enlighten me." 

    I scoffed, "Stop pretending you are such a dark puppeteer, Riddle. I might pretend otherwise, but I am no naive little girl that is so taken by your charm and dark aura." My voice was sickeningly sarcastic. 

    Something flashed across Tom's face. Anger? Annoyance? No, it was intrigue. He laced his fingers together, studying me for a moment. An entire century seemed to pass; our eyes interlocked in a fierce battle of wills. Finally, he asked, "And you are saying that you are not falling for my charm, Robins? And in what way does that make you immune to manipulation?" I didn't answer. Tom continued to gaze at me, his eyes layered with veiled suspense. "I lied," he said clearly, without a hint of regret, "I know that no matter what I say, you won't agree. Even with your map--" he jerked his head in the object's direction, "--will not be enough to blackmail you." He slid the map back to me, as my eyes darted towards it. 

   "Why return it to me?" I asked, suspicion in my voice, "you would not have brought me here unless there is an ulterior motive. What do you have to gain?" 

    Tom cocked his head to the side, his black hair falling over his cold blue eyes. "Curiosity," he replied, his voice smooth as ice. 

    I felt my resolve strengthen. "Curiosity killed the cat," I retorted. 

   "But satisfaction brought it back," he answered without batting an eye. There was a pause-- our eyes locking in another battle. We each waited on who would retreat before the other. 

    Unexpectedly, Riddle got up first; his eyes smooth and unchanged. There was no clear look of triumph on his face, but when he turned away, my arm shot out with the ease of a Seeker; grabbing his elbow. "You wouldn't leave unless you achieved your goal," I spoke softly, my eyes mirroring his look of absolute calmness. Two could play this game.