Tom Riddle One Shots

Seat at the Table(Part 2)

I swallow, the first hint of fear creeping up my neck in the form of goosebumps since I entered the room. 

I eye all the full seats, trying to not let my confusion known. Anything remotely uncertain can lead do my downfall and I will not have that happen. Not again.

I shake my head, the gun in my hand getting heavier. I doesn't usually get like this. I could usually shoot for hours on end without feeling as much as an extra feather. Yet I usually don't have the extra pressure of my target being Tom fucking Riddle.

He looks at the full seats, the corners of his mouth turning down in such a way a nearly shoot him then and there. "My apologies, they all happen to be full."

I scoff, "that can easily be changed."

His eyebrows raised, his eyes flickering between my own and down the barrel of my gun. "do demonstrate what you mean."

I don't hesitate, turning my gun to the guy on Tom's right. The poor bastard doesn't even have time to process what I'm doing before the shot rings out. The man slumps out of the chair, crimson spilling from his head even after his entire body spills to the floor. 

I don't feel good about my decision. It was impulsive and messy and, quite frankly, killing people didn't necessarily bring me much joy. It was a chore and the cleanup duty was even more so. However, the small gasp that comes from Tom's mouth is worth it. 

I bite my lip to hide my smile, adjusting my leg to get my thighs closer together. "I believe one just opened up."

His face is stone cold now but the spark of intrigue remains. "I'd prefer if you refrain from killing my Death Eaters."

"Death Eaters?" I scoff, beginning to make my way over to the chair next to him. Every step is agonizingly slow. "Is that what you call them?"

"Do you not like it?" He doesn't smirk nor does he show any sign of arrogance. He's simply still. Stony.

"I do. I mean, I did give you the idea," I huff, staring down at the guy on the floor. He sure was dead, blood soaking on to his robe and the floor. I nudge his limp body with my foot and he flops on to his back. His face is fixed in a shocked and pained expression, though it's hard to see with the liquid drying on his features. 

I sit in the chair, making my body as relaxed as possible even though I am severely on edge. Tom's eyes boar into mine, looking for any sign of fear. I won't let him find it.

I sit, relaxing into the chair without my posture slumping. Tom watches me his eyes taking their time to trail down my body as I get comfortable. My chest tightens as my mind keeps snapping me back to my time at Hogwarts. He would look at me like this often.

I hate it.

"So," he clears his throat, "what do you want to speak about so badly you had to make a mess of my dear friend Rosier for?"

"I have what you want."

The slight playfulness he has left drops at the words. His jaw clenches and I see his adams apple bob. I turn my gaze to the table, my reflection visible through the shine.

"You've lost my interest many years ago," he says, his attempt at a sharp jab through my heart very close at pulling a reaction out of me.

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, hoping my face remains as blank as I'm trying to maintain. "Don't flatter yourself, Riddle, I'm talking about your politics."

"Politics?" He nearly snorts. "I hate to break it to you but you're not even a relevant of the Wizarding World anymore."

"Stop embarrassing yourself and let me speak."