Tom's conclusions that night about Lucy Steele were simple: that conversation, uncomfortable as it had been, had yielded both progress and proof. Progress towards seeing her for what she truly was: a clever, conniving, careful girl whose plans and goals he needed to start figuring out. And proof of what he had suspected all along: that she was a liar and an actress and all manner of deceptive and he should never have even considered trusting that sweet, innocent, caring persona that was so clearly not who she really was.
These conclusions, enlightening though they were, changed little, at least outwardly. Tom still had every intention of keeping Steele around - if anything, this past night had only made him even more certain of that. She was too dangerous to be left alone. He needed to keep an eye on her. He needed to do everything he could to get her on his side and keep her there. So he would keep her around. He would keep convincing her. He would keep learning her ticks and tells and plots and plans and he would find the source of that darkness and figure out how best to use it to his advantage.
Which meant, really, that nothing much about the way Tom acted changed. The only thing that really changed was how Tom thought about the whole thing. Or, perhaps more accurately, how he felt about the whole thing.
This was something he would have rather avoided thinking about and certainly, no part of him was going to acknowledge it out loud. He would have liked to have not acknowledged it at all, but his avoidance of it was distracting to the point of annoyance and, by late in the night, he caved, deciding he could allow himself this personal, inner honesty.
And the honesty was that this hurt. Not the words she had said, not the reprimands she had offered, not even that quiet darkness that confirmed that she was as flawed as the rest of the world. No, what hurt was the proof that she had been lying. Tom had suspected it, of course. And now, he kept telling himself he had always known it. But the truth was that a part of him he despised with a terrible passion had hoped beyond hoped that she had been telling the truth. That she really was just sweet and kind and brighter than anyone had any right to be. That she really had cared.
And true, he didn't know that she wasn't and didn't. But if she had been lying about this, if she had managed to keep the whole world and even Tom himself from that darkness when he had been actively looking for it... well. It wasn't such a stretch to think that she had been lying about all the rest of it too. Besides, he couldn't deny it made sense. Someone caring for no reason at all, when it was of no benefit to them had seemed far too good to be true and tonight... well. Tonight he had learned that it probably was.
It was a lesson he should never have had to relearn. Because he should never have fallen for that stupid sweet, simple, honest girl routine. And he wouldn't let himself be tempted by it again. He knew better. He saw more clearly. He was cleverer than that.
This was, on the whole, not such a difficult thing to do. He was used to viewing the world with suspicion because the world had viewed him with the same from the moment he'd been born. And Steele, as he reminded himself plenty often, was just another face in the crowd. Another problem. Another puzzle. And he would solve it just as he had solved everything and everyone else.
He only wished he didn't have to.
But he did and, aside from a single, slightly awkward moment the first time they spoke after that oh so telling after-dinner conversation, the whole enterprise seemed to go rather smoothly. Steele seemed to forget that she had showed him her darkness. She relaxed again, aside from her usual moments of meaningful stares and a few words he would have rather she hadn't thought to say. She seemed to grow comfortable. And Tom, for his part, was able to resist doing the same. All he had to do was remind himself of that look in her eyes, the sharpness and darkness and bitter resentment she had shown that day and now seemed to once again prefer to pretend didn't exist, and he stopped being lulled by her smiles and charm and sweet, lying assurances that she was fine, everything was fine. She was happy and she was his friend and she cared.
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Extra Ordinary (Riddle Era)
FanfictionLucy Steele is extra ordinary. And the space in the middle is important. She's a nobody, a muggleborn Hufflepuff with the sort of passing kindness that people don't ever seem to notice. She is ordinary in every sense of the word. And she likes it th...