The Fearsome Name of Riddle

Much Needed Rest

The silence of the breakfast table was deafening. Even the tap of the house elf's boney feet on the rug seemed to echo in the empty room. It had felt so much warmer when it had been Lucius and his mother, not so vast and cold, but his father did not hold the same comfort. The fear that those days were over churned inside his chest. 

Tom Riddle had spent very little time with his son so he had no idea what to say as the little blonde boy sat a few seats away from him. The kid was upset, that much was clear to both of them, but how they would even start a conversation was beyond Tom. They were strangers. 

"Is mother alright?" Lucius’ quiet voice made Tom frown. There was no politeness in it. He spoke like all the other rich children did when Tom was at school. He was born to something Tom could never understand. Aristocracy. 

"She will be," Tom said stiffly. "She needs to rest." 

The boy gave a nod and went back to his toast. He would take a bite and then stare at the plate for a few minutes before chewing. Tom didn't bother to eat. He just watched his son, frowning a little at his behaviour. This was the child Victoria loved so dearly. He supposed he could see it, her narcissism demanded it. Platinum blonde waves of hair and crystal blue eyes that held an arrogant stare. He was Victoria in every way. 

"Is she still angry with me?" Lucius asked, looking up at him again. His eyes were a watery blue and red rimmed, he didn't look like he had slept at all. 

"I don't know," Tom said, taking a deep breath. His hands rested at the edge of the table, his back flat against the back of the chair. The head of the table was where he was meant to be, it had always been clear to him, and his heir should be at the other end. It was the way it was, but heirs were meant to inherit and Tom had nothing he wanted to give. "Are you going to tell me what happened? Maybe I can talk to her." 

Lucius stared at him for a moment then shook his head and shrugged. Tom's hands clenched on the table. A child should not be controlling his behaviour, no matter how accidentally. If he killed the boy now, Victoria would snap completely and break her vow and die or kill herself. He couldn't have what he wanted without the boy. 

"So your mother just attacked you out of nowhere?" Tom asked, sitting up straighter as the boy failed to recognise him as any kind of authority. 

He shrugged again. 

"Has she ever done this before?" Tom continued to question the stubborn child in a snapping tone that didn't seem to have any effect. Even legilimency wasn't helping him. Getting into Lucius’ mind was easy but his mind was a blockade of his mother chasing him through the house. Her angry eyes. That dangerous glare that looked paralysing at three feet tall. 

Lucius shook his head. 

"Not even when you're badly behaved?" 

"No." 

"She doesn't hit you ever?" Tom frowned, watching the offended look in the boy's eye. "Why?" 

The next shrug came sharp and fast. 

Tom sighed heavily, rubbing his hand over his face. He wasn't getting anywhere. "At least tell me what happened? What happened just before she started shouting at you?" 

The boy's jaw clenched and he shrugged again. "I don't remember." 

"Right." Tom looked around the room in helpless irritation, trying to think of a different angle. 

Lucius sat watching his father, his heart beating fast. His stubborn approach was working somewhat, but he knew exactly what had happened and he wasn't confident he could hold his father off forever. It had been a series of small occurrences that had stacked up until they could no longer stand.