Poison Ivy | T. Riddle ✔

[11] Salazar's Locket

The day was clear as the sun was shining high in the sky; quite an oddity in the dreary and usually cold weather of London. The sunny atmosphere seemed to have affected the people as well, as there was a breezy cheerfulness everywhere.

Tom packed his briefcase and wore his overcoat, by the looks of it, he was probably heading out. He was dressed in his second best clothes; a plain white shirt with brown waistcoat and pants. Usually, he wouldn't have bothered but he knew making an impression on women like Hepzibah Smith did more good to a man in his position than any harm.

He turned and glanced at the counter where Perseus was aligning the registers silently. After that conversation in his apartment, he had observed that he was steering clear of him, avoiding him at all costs yet resuming with his routine as if nothing had happened at all.

At times, Tom admired his will power; his strength to keep going even though he did all he could to violate his mental peace every single day. But at other times, it irritated him. He had thought that Perseus would be an easy prey; someone he could easily break and mold according to his desires. But what he had discovered was a man of resolution and strong will; he could not get through to him easily.

It needed time and by then he was getting slightly impatient. In a life so short, every second mattered. And as he was chasing immortality, he had to be wary of each second; each hour and every action taken in that instant until he achieved his ultimate goal. 

To him, immortality was the end point, the one thing no one could resist being tempted by. Yet there was Perseus Burke who knew such a lot that he could be considered a key to all the doors of possibilities but was adamant on taking all the knowledge with him to the grave.

"You're getting late," his blue eyes met Tom's stone cold glare as he remarked in an equally cold tone. His face showed that he was slightly tensed at having to address him. As if he didn't want to maintain even a vague contact with him.

"Ah of course, I almost forgot," Tom replied with a slight smile, "take care of the shop while I'm gone. It won't be long."

He only give him a stern look as if demanding him to stop the act and head out.

Shaking his head in silent laughter, Riddle walked out of the shop, humming a low tune to himself as he picked up his pace walking steadily on the cobblestoned street. It seemed as if the cheerfulness everywhere had affected even an emotionless person like him as well.

Hepzibah Smith did not live far off from Knockturn Alley. After a short pleasant walk, Riddle was standing at the front door of her mansion. He rang the doorbell and stepped back, politely waiting for the door to be opened.

An old shriveled up house elf opened the door and led him in. Hepzibah's abode was magnificent, lit with vanilla scented candles and decorated with numerous portraits and heirlooms hanging in glass cases.

Tom was shown in to the parlor and asked to make himself comfortable until Miss Smith arrived. He hung his overcoat at the hanger protruding from the wall in a corner and then seated himself on a chair. 

"Ah, Tom, what a pleasant surprise!"

He rose up to see Hepzibah Smith entering, dressed in a frivolous gown and countless jewels. A tiny smile made its way up to his face; it was more than apparent that the old woman was probably attracted to his handsome self.

How disgusting, he thought to himself but kept his face set in a polite and amiable smile.

"Hokey, bring in the tea, will you?" she sat down on the couch across from him, smiling widely as if greatly pleased to have him for company.