The Pretender | Tom Riddle

18| anything for him

18| anything for him

    It was noon, Tom had asked Seren to join him in Hogsmeade. He'd done more research on what Mr. Lestrange had told him. He had been on the right track about someone being the descendant of Helga Hufflepuff, but she wasn't attending Hogwarts. She was an older lady, usually seen at Borgin and Burkes. His original plan had been to get a job there once he graduated, an easier way to befriend her, but it all changed when he decided to take Seren along with him. Seren's family was well known, and nobody would turn them away if conversation was struck. It'd be easy for her to help lure the lady in so Tom could do what he had originally planned. He was impatient and waiting another year for a job there wasn't something he was interested in doing.

"What are we doing in here?" Seren let out a sigh, eyes running across the store with a small shiver due to the cold. Tom stretched his arm out to her, ignoring her question, as he lead her further into the store. His eyes roamed the shelves in an attempt to look interested in the antiques.

"Miss Lestrange! How odd to see you in here," Mr. Borgin came forward, smile on his face as he reached for her hand, "Has your father finally agreed to bring in his grandfather clock?"

Seren smiled politely, meeting the old man's stare, "I don't think he'll ever part with it unfortunately."

"Well then what brings you in today?" The man asked straightening his coat as he looked between the two. Tom hadn't bothered looking at the man, eyes in search for the real reason he came. "I think we're just looking," Seren smiled turning to Tom.

Tom stuck his arm out, waiting for her to poop hers with his. She looked down at it, tempted to just ignore it. He looked back at her, brow twitching as he waited. With a small huff, she did what he wanted, letting him pull her along with him. His eyes casted down in disappointment. The person he had hoped to see wasn't around. He couldn't just be up front and ask for them so he had completely wasted his time. "If you don't tell me what we're doing, I'm leaving," Seren stood her ground. He looked at her, unfazed watching as she almost threw her tantrum.

"Let's go get some butterbeer," he let out a sigh. Dragging her out of the store. He still hadn't answered her questions, but she hoped he would soon. Even as they sat with drinks in front of him, he said nothing. His stare was glued to her as she tried avoiding his eyes anyway she could. He was staring a hole into her head in thought. He watched as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, fidgeting with her sweater hem under the table. He hadn't taken a single sip from his butterbeer, deep in thought.

"Do you trust me?" The question was out nowhere. The abruptness caught her off guard. For the first time since they sat down, she met his gaze instantly. Her brows furrowed for a moment, wondering what would make this question come up. Has she really been undeniably obvious? It was hard not to when you knew the things she did. It was almost repulsing to be next to him, but also guilty. Guilty because she couldn't grow to fully hate him like she was supposed to. He was her Tom, and seeing him, as Voldemort, was a hard pill to swallow.

"Yes." He leaned forward, hand reaching across palm facing upward. She looked down at his hand for a moment, debating if she should raise hers to it. Her quirked an eyebrow toward it, hand stretching even more as he waited. With hesitation, she brought her hand up from her lap, barely brushing over his hand. He reached up, holding it in his own. He caressed her hand with the pad of his thumb as he pulled it closer. "But how much do you trust me?" He tilted his head to the side, almost like he was testing her loyalty to him, "How much do you need me? Want me?"