(song for the chapter: when we were young — adele )
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FEBRUARY, 1981
𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗡𝗢𝗪 𝗚𝗢𝗧 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗩𝗜𝗘𝗥. London had one giant cloud looming over the city, resulting in omnipresent dullness.
The Death Eater meeting Scarlet was just at was adjourned, and everybody was standing up to leave.
"Stay," Riddle ordered as he regarded Bridget with a single sharp glance, and she stayed in her seat with a stubborn look. Everybody spared her an unwanted concerned glance as they left, automatically assuming she's in trouble as if they're kids at Hogwarts and Voldemort is a professor.
She made sure her heartbeat was kept stable because somehow, even without the use of Legilimency, Riddle could sense whenever she was nervous. And Scarlet being nervous is always a suspicious matter. Awkward silence stretched out, and Scarlet started to feel uncomfortable underneath his silent stare. They were just sitting there.
"If you're not going to say anything, I'll start smoking." She blurted out.
He was merely glaring at her, and then made a gesture with his arm to give permission, to show she can do so.
So she did. She pulls out a cigarette. She lights it with Fiendfyre. So over the top ridiculous. But it is Fiendfyre, plain as day. A tiny dragon rises from her palm in the red-orange glow before it's swiftly gone, just as it was trying to split and grow into another fiery beast.
"You taught me this, remember?" She sparked up the conversation and instead of verbally replying, he sent one single nod in her direction. She remembered as at the age of eighteen, she was standing in the forest nearby Riddle's lair, watching him summon the fire with much ease, with a flicker of his wrist. She was in awe, as bad as it sounds, she couldn't take her eyes off.
It's absurd, unnecessary, but remarkable. To summon the Great Fire with the flick of a wrist, to control it, banish it without the slightest effort, confidently enlarge it to massive flames and then dim it down instantly.
