Invictus [Tom Riddle / Tomione]

Witch Weekly

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," I say, as he walks into my office. "Simply rolls off the tongue."

"So does the killing curse," he says with a charming smile as he sits himself.

I catch my breath; both at his daring remark and his statuesque beauty.

I ask him if he knows that from experience.

He assures me that he does not.

He's tall, very tall. As imposing in stature as his fiancé had been in wit and grace when I met with her at the start of the year.

"Mr. Riddle," I say matter-of-factly. "There are many who have a great deal to say about you. I find it all quite conflicting. Perhaps you can help to paint a better picture of yourself for me."

"I'll do my best."

He's a man of few words, his dark eyes snatching up everything, his ears consuming every word to be processed by the brilliant mind within his head.

That is the first thing that stood out as Witch Weekly prepped for this interview. Tom Marvolo Riddle is a purported genius, lauded by his Slytherin peers and professors alike.

"Your schoolmates called you highly intelligent. Would you agree?"

He's as still as a vampire, his demeanor only broken by the slight upturn of his lips. "That depends on the measuring stick, Miss Wimborne."

He wears a modest but precisely-tailored black suit and a dashing pair of Malkin's robes, which he says were gifted to him the moment his engagement to Hermione Dumbledore was leaked.

"So it is true then?"

"It is."

"Hermione is quite the public figure," I say, recalling my last encounter with the witch. "She's been called the golden girl of the wizarding world. I had the pleasure of interviewing her some months ago."

He inclines his head, the light casting deep shadows on his planes of his features. "It was a marvelous article. I commend you."

Of course, I beam. How could I not? If I thought Hermione Dumbledore was charming, I was nowhere near prepared for her counterpart, who manages to be both magnetic and innocuous all at once. "I hope to do you the same justice, once we become better acquainted, Mr. Riddle."

He pulls something out of his robes. It appears to be a case of muggle cigarettes, which is a kind of pipe not made of wood but paper instead. His nimble fingers pull one out of the case and lift it to his lips. "May I?"

How interesting, this wizard's habits. He seems to be a walking contradiction.

"Of course, be my guest," I say, gesturing to the tiny item in his hands. "That actually leads me to my burning questions. Obviously, the public is dying to know more about your relationship with Miss Dumbledore and your career goals together. I've done a bit of research on you prior to this interview. It seems you've been running with the princes of the pureblood families for many years, even some have gone so far as to say that you're a sort of leader for them, which I find surprising. Witches blush and sing your praises. A prefect and head boy; the highest marks in your year. All of your professors brag about your scholastic bent, applauding your keen manner of wielding magic. But the question I must ask first, is the question Britain is dying to have answered. With you and Miss Dumbledore being so at odds with one another, how did you come to find yourselves in a romantic relationship? The wizarding world labeled you both as enemies... what changed?"