Poison Ivy | T. Riddle ✔

[05] Homemade Scones

A considerably long time passed since Tom Riddle's appointment as the new apprentice at Borgin and Burkes. By the looks of it, he seemed to be doing his job rather well as Caractacus was quite satisfied with the effortless way he handled customers. His appointment resulted in Perseus having more time to wander about freely or keep reading books if he pleased.

However, he had tried to prevent himself from reading a lot in Tom's presence. Even though the young man had been rather polite with him—sometimes narrating stories of school and other times making small talk—an odd feeling warned Perseus of being totally at ease with him.

He had a slight feeling of mistrust, warning him that Tom Riddle was sly as a snake and could strike anytime.

Other than that unnerving tug of dread at his heart, he rather enjoyed listening to the tales of school Tom shared and the antics at Hogwarts which seemed to come up with all sorts of possibilities.

Sometimes, he felt as if he had been quite unfortunate not to attend such a wonderful school.

"So, Perseus, what are you doing?" Tom made his way to the tiny desk occupied by Perseus and sat down on his usual chair facing him, propping his feet up at the side.

To an onlooker, it might seem as if the two were good friends. 

"Nothing much," he replied looking up at him. "How about you? Sales going as expected?"

He laughed and once again Perseus was reminded how much his laugh resembled that satisfied rumble of a predator about to take down its prey. "Not many people visit this old dump, you know that better than me. But enough of the old chatter, are you not up for a cup of tea today?"

"Gabby, bring two cups of tea please," he turned to order the house elf hiding in the corner who scurried off immediately to the back of the shop where a tiny kitchen and store room were located.

The tea time, spanning up to twenty minutes at maximum, was when both would converse about their day. Tom would usually start and supply most of the material for their discussion. Perseus thought it rather odd since he hadn't expected him to be one of those friendly talkative boys. To him, it seemed as if Riddle was making an effort to reach out to him deliberately.

At times, the thought scared him as to why he would be doing that and for what reason. But at other times, he would be simply surprised but continue with whatever Riddle had in mind as an act of courtesy and mild acquaintanceship.

"Mr Burke said Amadeus Carrow had offered to sell an alleged Hand of Glory recently. I believe you dealt with him then since it wasn't my shift when he visited."

"Yes I did," he replied, "but there wasn't any proof for whether it was genuine or clever forgery as he didn't bring the item to the shop. So, I told him that his offer could only be considered when the artifact was thoroughly checked and deemed worthy."

"But surely he has been such an old customer, dealing with this shop for years. You could have taken his word for that," Riddle resumed but his tone was cautious as if simply waiting to gauge his reaction.

Perseus shook his head dismissively, "How long someone has been dealing with us doesn't account for their reliability, Tom. I thought you would know how foolish it is to trust blindly when you're running a business."

The answer seemingly impressed him, "Oh dear, you're one shrewd businessman."

A slight smile spread on Perseus's face but he focused on the tea nevertheless. 

Tom, however, seemed to ponder on his words, "It just makes me curious as to whether you've ever trusted anyone or not."

"I don't trust anyone. At least not when I am doubtful of them in any way," he replied, this once looking straight into Riddle's grey eyes.

The slow yet meaningful smirk took over his features as if he had gotten the hint quite clearly, "Now that's one more thing we have in common. I was sincerely not expecting that."

"We are not alike in all respects," was his vague reply, "there are just a few mutual traits and those too are very rare."

"Anyhow, Mister Burke accepted Carrow's offer to purchase the Hand on his own terms," he effortlessly diverted the path of their conversation back to the point where they had started, "three hundred galleons, and that too if it's genuine."

Perseus laughed, "Three hundred? Do you think he is going to bargain for so low? I'm quite certain he's expecting more than a thousand for any of his treasured items. He offered countless jewelry items too previously, believed to be cursed, and wasn't settling on the prices given by Father."

That sinister glint sparked in Riddle's eyes once again; a sight making Perseus quite uncomfortable at times, "Well, he's sending me to persuade him."

A short while of silence lingered in which Perseus observed Tom's facial expression, unsure of what he meant at the moment. "I see. And when are you leaving?"

"In a few days," he leaned back in his chair, gently rocking it back and forth, "I don't want to give him the impression that we are interested in buying. It might help in making him reconsider the amount."

"Perhaps."

The doorbell rang and seeing the familiar face of Renata Fawley through the glass pane, Perseus excused himself and went to answer the door.

Tom, in the meanwhile, remained seated, mildly observing the haste with which Perseus had departed and also the informal way he was conversing with the lady with red hair outside. 

He knew it would take him a little more time than he initially expected to get through to Perseus. Gaining access to the young man's mind and soul wasn't as easy as he had thought it would be because Perseus was cautious and cunning, to an extent.

Perseus returned with a basket in his hand and a small smile on his face. Seeing Tom still there, he placed the basket in front of him, "Have you ever tried homemade scones?"

Tom looked up at him questioningly, "I'm afraid I haven't."

"It's a treat specially made for taking with tea," he elaborated, "here, have some. I'm sure you'll like it."

Rather tentatively, Tom lifted the cloth covering the basket and took out the lightly sweetened cake, placing it in his mouth. It tasted delicious, with a delightful mixture of fruit and egg essence.

"These taste good," he remarked after he had finished the first one and looked over at Perseus before picking up another.

"Of course they do. The Fawleys are quite known for their great recipes here."

Tom who didn't allow to let anything slip from his mind while in Perseus's company, took note of the sentence carefully. 

Fawley.

So that lady who had come to give these scones was a Fawley; belonging to a sacred 28 pureblood family.

"Do you like her?" 

His abrupt question took Perseus by great alarm but he didn't say anything in reply.

The much familiar meaningful smile danced on Riddle's face as he took in Perseus's startled expression, "So, I guess I'll take that as a yes."

"That's none of your business," his reply was firm and a bit tight-lipped.

Riddle's eyes were dancing in amusement and his chair was still gently rocking back and forth, "Of course it isn't. I was just a little curious. There's no harm in that now, is it?"

***