IMMORTAL ( TOM RIDDLE )

CHAPTER III

11.

She's afraid her heart might stop as she stares at the wand in his hand. How could she not have known? All the sneaking around, all the little white lies she had to tell, it was all for nothing. The man before her is a wizard.

Her heart doesn't stop. It feels as if it's blooming in her chest.

12.

Joseph, bless his heart, remembers his role as father when shaking hands with Tom. He tries to size him up, determine the first impression.

"Joseph Bass," he says as introduction. "Marjorie's father and head of this excavation."

"Oh, are you?" Tom quickly observes the surrounding area, noticing the shabby exterior of a tent that opened up to a much more grande interior. "Tom Riddle," he politely replies.

"It's a pleasure." When Joseph withdraws his hand, he motions to his upper lip. "Missing the mustache."

       Marjorie's face burns in embarrassment and her breath catches in her throat at Tom's stunned face. He doesn't realize that her ridiculous father is referring to the count that Marjorie had compared Tom to. When Tom turns to her, she wants nothing more than to bury herself in the earth and become another artifact to one day be rediscovered centuries later.

As if sensing her growing mortification, Tom quickly changes the subject to something much more interesting. "That was excellent work with your wand, Marjorie," he tells her, eyes falling down to observe the wand still in her hand. Her first instinct is to thrust behind her back and out of sight. At the moment, she feels very much exposed but then she remembers. There's no longer any need for such such deceit. Tom's eyes drift back up to hers as he tentatively asks, "If I may, what are wizards such as yourselves doing out here?"

"We're finishing up work for Gringots," she quickly says, not giving her father the chance to speak. The older man simply watches their interaction carefully.

"Curse breakers?" It's a guess on Tom's part, but a very easy one. Marjorie doesn't waste a second thinking about it.

"That's right." She smiles weakly.

"Fascinating." Something in his manner changes as he turns back to her father. The smile falls, the spark of mischief in his eyes diminishes to be replaced with something more serious. "Perhaps you could be of some help."

"Well, we were just about to have lunch," Joseph tells him, brow raising in surprise. "You're more than welcome to join us before you go on your way."

"Oh, I'm sure he wouldn't want to-" she starts with every intention of preventing such a lunch from occurring. It must seem silly, she thinks, to wish for privacy, to wish to be away from both her father and Tom. Yet, such overwhelming feelings can't be ignored.

"That sounds wonderful," Tom interjects graciously. "I'd be glad to join you two."

13.

Her excitement, the pure relief she felt at such a weight being lifted off her shoulders, quickly fades.

She isn't mad at Tom for keeping such a secret (after all, she is guilty of the same thing). It's the change in his manner that's unsettling. There's something... off about him. Throughout the small talk over a bowl of hot stew, she observes him, studies his mannerisms.

Who is Tom Riddle? She's beginning to think she has no idea.

14.

"You knew," she accuses the first moment they're alone, not daring to look him in the eye. He always sees right through her; she doesn't share the same luxury. "You knew what I was the entire time."

       His lips twitch, the corner of his mouth quirking up. He's amused. The action infuriates her and she feels her face begin to warm.

"It certainly occurred to me," he easily admits. Of course he knew. Since the first night, he had tasted the bridled power on her tongue and knew she was the one he had been looking for.

"You look upset, darling," he coos, hand reaching out towards her. Before, his touch had been welcomed. He had traced every contour and slope of her body. Before, she had craved his touch. Now, she quickly moves out of his reach and flinches at his approaching figure.

"Don't," she warns, noticing the flash of irritation in his gaze. It's hard, feeling so distant from the man she had shared so much with. Looking away, down at his advancing feet, she asks, "Why are you really here?"

Tom stops, finally deciding he's close enough when his feet are only inches away from her own. Her breath catches and her eyes shoot up to meet his. She won't move away again; she won't be intimidated and she won't be chased.

     "Need I remind you that I was not the only one keeping secrets?" he asks softly and he waits for her denial, something that he quickly realizes she isn't prepared to give.

     "I wanted to tell you," she mutters, arms crossing over her chest defensively. She's still upset with him, she still refuses to open up.

     "Funny," Tom says, though theres no mirth in his tone. "You seemed much more keen for my company when you thought I was a simple muggle."

     The way he says the word makes it sound so dirty, like an insult. Marjorie inherited many traits from her lovely Gryffindor mother. A short temper happened to be one of them.

"I much preferred him to this pompous wizard parading around in front of me," she snaps without a second thought.

"Wouldn't have taken you for a blood traitor, little witch."

"Don't," she warns for the second time. "I like you Tom but if you say that again, your pretty little face won't be so pretty anymore. I'll make sure of it. I'm sure all the muggles will have a good laugh at the sight of you."

     Very quickly, the conversation had taken a dangerous turn. Marjorie isn't afraid exactly; she isn't worried that Tom will actually harm her. Still, she's smart enough to know when to stop, and at the look in his eyes, her mouth promptly shuts.

"You dare threaten me?" he asks.

She pauses at the question, and thinks about his cruel remarks, his interactions with her father, his asking them for help. She thinks further back, remembering his late night touches and when his eyes had been more warm than cold. She realizes that even though she had been keeping secrets from him, it had been for a completely different reason than his.

"I dare," she tells him lowly.

For a moment, the two of them are frozen as they stare each other down. Then, slowly, his lips curl up in a grin.

"I think we'll get along splendidly," he says and Marjorie's mind goes haywire.

He's toying with her, she thinks. He likes to see her so surprised, so unsure of her next move.

"Then you're a bigger fool than I thought," she bites, stepping forward and moving past him. All she wants is to get away, to work, to sleep, anything to get her mind off of Tom. But his arm blocks her path, and she finds herself pressed against his side.

"I'm Tom," he corrects, turning his head as he looks down at her. "And I'd gladly like for you to stop insulting me. My patience is wearing thin." He reprimands her like he would a child before finally dropping his arm. "Now onto more pleasant things."

He's still so close and she recalls so well the moments when they were even closer, skin to skin. She shudders and he smiles.

15.

Tom Riddle is a complete stranger and the realization is staggering.

Even worse, Tom Riddle is quite possibly the most dangerous man she's ever met