the dark side [tom r.]

6|| Recurring Nightmares.

Rosalind woke up the next morning to the news of a Bulgarian wizard –who had been a supporter of Grindelwald– found dead in his flat in Paris. Apparently, he wasn't identifiable in the slightest, but the neighbours did supply the authorities with enough information to distinguish him.

"You did this?" She bursted into the dining hall where she was sure Tom would be, pointing to a headline on the first page of The Daily Prophet.

FORMER SUPPORTER OF GRINDELWALD FOUND BURNT ALIVE IN HIS FLAT IN PARIS.

The Death Eaters sat with him stared quizzically at her, unaware of their master's actions the previous night.

"That bastard had it coming. I did the law a favour anyway, they've been on the lookout for him for years."

"We need to talk. In private."

Tom cleared his throat as he stood up and nodded once at his followers. She hurried after him into one of the many hallways, still not quite familiar with her away around the place. Rosalind almost bumped into Riddle when he stopped abruptly, turning around to face her.

"What do you want to say?"

"A person was murdered because of me, Tom–"

"He's not just a person, he's a rapist who also killed your best friend. Now look me in the eye and tell me he doesn't deserve this." His eyes seemed to burn brightly, and she'd forgotten just how he looked when they were in situations like this. Slightly fiddling with the buttons of his shirt, eyes hard and and electrical, jaw tense. She'd subconsciously memorised all those details.

Rosalind sighed, arms crossed over her chest as she contemplated his words. "Okay, okay. I'm not saying he didn't deserve it, but burning him alive, really Tom?"

"I used one of my finest weapons, actually. I was experimenting." He had a look of strange pride on his face, as though what he did was honourable in the slightest.

The french heroine raised a brow, now leaning her back against a pillar and waiting for him to explain.

"It's something I created myself. A potion of sorts. It works well, but a few improvements would do," he elaborated casually, as though he was merely discussing the weather.

"Ah, still the Tom Riddle I know. You have not changed one bit."

He smirked at her words, eyes lingering on her for a moment before excusing himself to get back to breakfast. Rosalind didn't miss the image of his face, however, caught in surprise after she held his arm and pulled him back. "I'm not done yet."

Riddle rolled his eyes in a mixture of amusement and exasperation. He liked it when she played boss.

"Why?"

Silence danced teasingly between them, Rosalind staring firmly at him while the Dark Lord insisted on avoiding her gaze. He gulped, she could tell from the lump in his throat moving up and down.

"Why did you do this, Tom? I've barely even been back for a few days."

He hesitated, finally looking directly into her eyes. It's been so long since he'd seen them, way too long. Something had changed, though. The green irises were firm and hard. Unfaltering. They weren't the same innocent lost eyes anymore.