The greater the army | Marauders

Part 2: ♤ The more intriguing the game

14 September, 1989:

Lily was interpreting another prophesy - number 1.257 to be exact that was about the Nulaque family and their eldest son suffering from a strange illness - when Riddle knocked on her office door.
She grunts and raises her head to find him smiling a little upon entering. It is as if he has forgotten ( or overlooked) the elbow going straight to his teeth when he had caused her to turn positively unhinged.
"What do you want?" She asks with an arched brow. "I have work. Work which you oh so kindly assigned me."

"Yes, yes, I know." Drawls the man before closing the door with a wave of his hand and walking further inside until he reaches her lime green desk. "Excellent job, by the way."

She sighs and drops her pen down some papers. She refused to use quils. She had always thought of them as impractical and had gotten into lots of disputs with other co workers because of that belief. She waits with knitted brows for him to say something.

He just keeps smiling. It's so fucking unnerving.

"Well?" She inquires. "What are you really here for? Besides starting any kind of drama."

He gasps. It's quite obvious that he does it solely for show. "Starting drama, me? Why, Evans, I'm hurt."

"You're not hurt, you're enraged and bitter." She murmurs. "You just hide it well."

"Huh. Someone has been reading books on behavioral patterns..." He says, giving her an appreciative glance. She doesn't know whether it's honest or not.

She shrugs, trying to fake easiness. "I watched a Poirot film this week. Does it count?"

"Sure it does." He responds and sits down the chair in front of the desk, even though she hadn't told him to. "So, about the business I wanted to talk to you about..."

"Mhmm."

"Tuesday's law. Number 607."

She smiles. It's thin and pretentious (like him). "Ah. The rejection of the 54 applications that were sent to the Ministry by graduate muggle-borns? Yes. Just read that on today's paper. Let me find it..."
She shuffles through many newspapers inside the first of three selves for a while and - "Ah ha." She bangs the paper down the desk before looking upwards at him. "It seems that you have managed to influence the Board of Governors and the team of the Minister quite well, Riddle, even by working in another department."

"I did that?" He asks with the softest kind of tone.

Her indifference switches to annoyance instantly. "Don't play the fool with me. We both know that you've been looking for ways to get me fired since I first started working here."

"I think you overestimate your own importance, Lily dear." He mutters with a smile that is like a knife to her heart, so sharp it is. "Why the hell would I do that?"

"Oh, that's easy." She says acidly. "You're a racist jerk who tries to ascend to power by cutting off the actually competent people this Ministry has to its disposal that may pose a threat to your political career."

He doesn't expect her to be so blunt about her statement. Once again, Lily Evans - no one ever remembered to call her Potter since her marriage - is a force to be reckoned with, a pit of fire as bright and burning as her hair. And even in his anger Tom Riddle can admit that - just not aloud. He is too proud for that.

"Now get out of my office." Says the young woman, returning her attention at the thousands of documents waiting for her to store them away. "I'm sure you have other work to attend to."

"Obviously." He says, his tone as cold as ice, though his severity doesn't affect her. "You aren't the only one with unfinished business in this sector."