Good Night, Darling

[ Was it Obvious to everybody else? ]

Tom laughed at something the woman said, attempting to ignore the way her hand brushed over his arm. She was double, probably even triple, his own age. It was disgusting, but she was the wife of the Head Auror and so this was Tom's obligation. Even if he didn't want to be an Auror, the networking could get him important contacts should the need arise.

Her friend was a woman of the same age, with yellow robes that made her look sickly and pale. She wasn't of much importance, though she claimed to be related to Helga Hufflepuff. Balderdash, really, but there wasn't much harm in entertaining her.

"Excuse me, ladies, sir."

Tom looked up, half heartedly hearing the woman trail off her sentence and eyes catching on the man barging into their conversation. He was pale, young, and had an accent that sounded like it came from somewhere in Eastern Europe. There was an ethereal quality to his presence, one that felt vaguely familiar. One that felt almost deadly, as if the man was not someone to make an enemy of.

He cleared his throat, knowing that he'd been staring a second too long. It was hard not to stare, really, when he was a new, handsome stranger with a voice that dripped charisma. Even if he was too tall, and too blond, for Tom's usual preference.

The two ladies exchanged glances, cheeks flushing, before extending their hands for the stranger to kiss.

"Tom Riddle," He introduced himself, straightening his back slightly and looking the man in his eyes. They were of equal heights, and yet the blond seemed to loom over Tom quite significantly.

"A pleasure," The stranger replied, a small smile playing on his lips, before reaching out his hand. Tom's eyes darted down, extending his own warily.

He grasped Tom's hand carefully, turning it over. One of his fingers brushed over the ring, and Tom felt a shiver of fear in his spine. His head jerked, unbidden, and Tom found it difficult to swallow.

"Tom!"

There was commotion behind Tom, something happening within the crowd. He didn't want to take his eyes off of the man, however, and so ignored the fact his name was being called.

"Tom," Hadrian said, voice right beside him.

Tom blinked, turning his head to the side and catching Hadrian's eye. There was something there– a warning flashing behind the green.

"Ah, Mr Riddle," The European man said, amusement lacing his tone, "Who is this?"

Tom blinked, looking between the two of them, before drawing his hand back. The stranger had been holding it for far too long to be appropriate. He felt Hadrian grab onto the fabric of his elbow, as if steadying himself.

He ignored the way Hadrian's face twisted in annoyance, the redness blooming on his face, and the way his right hand was itching for his wand. He ignored it for the moment, yes, but he didn't disregard it.

"I'm afraid I didn't catch your name, Mr..." Tom said, turning his attention back to the stranger.

"Grindelwald," He replied, placing his hands behind his back, "Gellert Grindelwald."

Tom felt Hadrian's hand hold even tighter onto his arm, and righteous indignation pool in his stomach. The anger was replaced quickly by recognition, and then confusion.

Grindelwald must have used some kind of de-aging potion...

"You were at the trial," Tom stated. It was worrying that he hadn't recognised the face of Grindelwald walking around, even if he'd seen it before. What magic...