complicity [tom riddle]

v.

a/n - due to a total of two comments i've decided to continue this story. thanks for the support so far. as for you arguing that dumbledore being aware of tom's connections to salazar slytherin being uncanonical, i just want to say, first of all, trust me it will all make sense in the end - i've done it on purpose. second of all, it's a fan fiction please relax. with that being said; enjoy.

2nd October 1944

It was dark out and the clouds seemed to blanket the stars. If it weren't for this being typical weather in Scotland it would be considered as a preposterous omen. Threatening to even wizard kind. Nonetheless, a perfectly mysterious enough setting for the most important connection-making event of the year for Hogwarts 'elite' students.

Heidi gently ran her thin fingers down her dress, feeling the silk and moderately sparkly black toole between her hands. The dress was stunning and had the right amount of promiscuity, not too much so it allowed for slight enigma, but just enough for sardonic attraction. Essentially, a head turner for the stone-cold academic wizards. Such as Riddle and his cronies. Her hair was styled in loose curls and she modestly pushed a few strands behind her ear so that she still felt like herself to an extent. She wore minimal gold jewellery, nothing too flashy. And complimented her look with light glowing make-up.

She stared at herself in her Slytherin inspired framed mirror until she felt like one eye was bigger than the other. Total teenage self scrutinisation. At this point she could barely tell if she even looked good anymore. She stepped out of the mirrors view and with a swish of her wand flipped a thirty second sand timer.

The time fell slowly, and although she was ready early she couldn't help but feeling like these few seconds of waiting were making her revoltingly late, despite the fact she had no issue wrongfully judging herself for Merlin knows how long in her mirror. The last grain of sand floated downwards with gravity and she gave herself one last glance. She felt instantly relieved, with an almost fresh pair of eyes, she realised that she looked beautiful.

Issue was, she didn't feel like herself. But that was the whole point of this so-called mission, wasn't it? To betray her own principles for the greater good.

The hallways were somber cast as Halloween was approaching and ghosts were looming in the halls, cobwebs showered the stairs, and kids began wearing mittens. Tom held his head high in his stolen black dress robes that he'd slyly tailored to fit his slender body. He moved animatronically as he paced back and forth on the sixth floor, where Slughorn typically hosted his blooming affairs like this one. It was obvious, Tom Riddle was his absolute favourite, a shining star in a sea of dead ones. Hence why Riddle was there before everyone else.

The room had festive adornments hanging from the ceilings and tables upon tables of food, drink, and decorative collectibles that Slughorn usually kept in his closet. The room was warm-lit and accented by an interesting fire. There were strings of curtains coating the edges of the room alongside a number of furniture arrangements for positive socialising however still leaving slight space for dancing complimenting the atmosphere, essentially, the place was prematurely bustling with life prior to the events. Looks like tonight was going to be very, very interesting.

Slughorn was sitting in a far corner dressed as nicely as someone like him could manage. Tom scoffed in superiority when he saw the sight, he thought it was ghastly. Disbanding the fact his own clothes were stolen. He pushed his long fingers through his curls and turned on his heels to meet the old man's beady yet homely eyes. He began a long stride and his heels clicked on the cold hard Hogwarts floor.

Professor Slughorn's eyes lit up and he raised from his seat to meet Tom, he met Tom with a meager hug and smile, to which the young Prefect met with a curt smile of his own out of sheer politeness. Slughorn wrapped an arm around Tom's shoulders and began to walk with him to the fire that burned in the centre of the room, a magnificent dancing, picturesque fire. It was the highlight of the setting and Slughorn was rather fond of himself for coming up with it, ignoring Tom's condescending gaze, interpreting it as him simply being a genius boy who is levels ahead of this kind of magic.