A/N: Beater 2 of the Chudley Cannons writing for Round 1 for Quidditch League Challenge.
Prompts used: "You have about as much charm as a flobberworm," a restaurant, and "People have an annoying habit of remembering things they shouldn't." - Christopher Paolini, Eragon
I own nothing. I am not J. K. Rowling. These characters are hers.
Pressing his back into the wooden chair behind him, Tom settled into the Hog's Head's atmosphere. He couldn't help but think that the place was a disappointment. He could barely even call the place a restaurant, let alone a pub. It was a disease-ridden hole in the wizarding world. A leech on its society. Tom doubted it would be around much longer, which would be a blessing to Hogsmeade. He could think of a few other things that would be a blessing to the skewed world he had inhabited for seven years. That was why he was there.
Of course, he needed Millie to hurry up in order to continue his planning. She wasn't necessarily important, but her family was powerful, and she was really easily swayed. Flattery could get Tom everywhere with that girl. He figured he might as well use what his vile father had given him: his looks.
While he waited, Tom opened his diary to the next clean page and began scribbling his name out over and over again. He paused, looking at his work. This diary was the first addition to his plans. As a horcrux, it would most certainly succeed, because no one else would know. His grandfather's ring was safely in his trunk under a concealment charm. Tom would have to find a place for it soon. Till then, he would keep the pieces of his soul close to him.
"I am Lord—" Tom quickly shut his book, away from Millicent Fawley's view. He stared up into her round, chubby sixth-year face. "What was that?" She smiled. It was revolting to Tom, however he knew better. He had to play his cards right with this one.
"Nothing, Millie. Nothing at all," he smiled. He could see her breath catch in her throat. "Please sit."
She did. And as she sank into the seat, Tom slid her one of the drinks sitting on the table. Millie sipped happily, unaware that there was a bit of butterbeer dripping from the corner of her lips and onto her green Slytherin tie.
"I still can't believe you asked me to Hogsmeade," she blubbered, slopping her drink around. "You! Tom Riddle. I just can't believe it."
"Nor can I," he mumbled, but Millie missed it. She was too giddy, bouncing around in her seat. Tom had to stay calm. He kept reminding himself that the Fawley family was important to his cause. After all, Hector Fawley, Millie's uncle, had recently held the position of Minister for Magic. Any pureblood family with connections still in the government would be of beneficial use to Tom. Even if Fawley's niece was fawning all over him.
"Millie," Tom said pleasantly—well at least he thought it was pleasant enough for him. "I would like to talk about a few things with you. Very interesting. Most important to—us."
"Us?" She practically spilled her drink all over the table.
"Yes," he reached for her hand, "us."
Her hands were sweaty. Tom, once again, felt the all-too familiar twitch he got when he came in contact with other human beings. He just couldn't understand touching. Or contact. No one in the orphanage ever hugged him, and he turned out perfectly fine. Other people would paw over each other, touching hands, arms, faces. Why?
Millie was soft and squishy. Warm and damp. There was no pleasantness in this exchange. How was there ever any pleasantness in touching another? Tom shuddered. Back to business. It was better not to get too engrossed in her flaws; he'd make fun of them with Malfoy and Black later.
"Millie, how do you feel about purebloods?"
"Why?" She smirked. And then she gasped, loudly. "Is this a game? Oooh! Oooh! After I answer, I'll ask you a question, and we can just go back and forth!"
Tom gritted his teeth. "Certainly."
"Wonderful!" She clasped her other hand around his. He was now trapped in a cage of dirty fingernails and frail finger bones. Of course, he could always just snap them without struggle, but the Fawley family was important to his plan. Yes, he reminded himself. Very important.
"Purebloods are the best at magic, naturally," Millie said. "Here's my question: what do you like most, my eyes or my smile?"
And to demonstrate, she smiled as big as she could. Her teeth were stained from the butterbeer. She was missing one in the back of her mouth.
"Neither."
"Well, you have about as much charm as a flobberworm." Millie scoffed, pulling her hands away. Tom was momentarily relieved that his fingers were free from her moist death grip. Then he realized she was offended. He cast his eyes downward.
"Both features are too nice to choose," he said flatly.
Millie gasped, and Tom had to look up. She was smiling ear to ear now, so he pressed forward. "Now, my next question. What is your take on mudbloods?"
Without any hesitation, she responded. "Don't even get me started. I can't stand 'em, coming into our school and taking all our hard-earned careers. My uncle was Minister, you know, and he was replaced by some frilly little mudblood. Pathetic choice, really. They were too worried Uncle Hector wasn't controlling Grindewald enough. If you ask me, Grindewald has a point."
"Excellent," Tom said to himself.
"Why is that excellent?" Millie looked as if she thought it was another game he was playing at.
"I have a plan, Millie. I intend to rid this world of mudbloods. They don't belong here, and I want you to join me," he smiled.
"Me? Join you in doing what, exactly?"
He smiled. "I'm going to turn the wizarding world into one that we can be proud of. You and I can make Hogwarts more than just a school. It could be a facility for the unique, gifted, and worthy students. Purebloods."
Millie blushed. "You really think I'd be good for that?"
"Why else would I ask you here?" And to prove his point, Tom pulled her hand up to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. "Please help me."
"How?" Millie said breathlessly.
"I'd like to meet your uncle," he said, strategically staring into her eyes.
"Uncle Hector?" Tom nodded. Boy, this one was really quite slow on the uptake. "Okay."
They spent another twenty minutes in that dirty restaurant. Millie talked about her classes, her professors. She, too, disliked Dumbledore's transfiguration lessons. It was the one topic Tom could actually participate in with fervor. Then Millie was on about all the girls that were jealous that she was with him. Tom couldn't take much more. "Why don't we head over to Honeyduke's?"
They got up to leave. Tom held the door open for her.
"Wait a minute," Millie paused on her way out the door. "I just thought of something, Tom. I heard that you grew up in the muggle world. Were your parents pureblood, too?"
Tom's lips made a perfect line in his face. Through gritted teeth, he told Millie: "People have an annoying habit of remembering things they shouldn't."
Headmaster Dippet rushed to the Hospital Wing. Madame Wrenly was busy trying to stop the bleeding coming from young Miss Fawley's nose. The young girl was turning pale. Her eyes seemed distant, and her hand was cold to the touch. She couldn't speak.
"Tom!" Dippet grabbed Riddle's shoulders. "What happened?"
"I—I don't know, sir," he stuttered. "It happened suddenly. We were walking back to Hogwarts, from Honeyduke's, when poor Millie screamed. She was just bleeding, everywhere. I had no idea what to do. I rushed her here right away."
Dippet sighed. "It's alright, Tom. You did the right thing. Why don't you head back to your room. It looks like we will need to transport Miss Fawley to St. Mungo's."
Tom nodded. As the doors to the hospital wing shut behind him, he could hear Madame Wrenly mumble that there was no spell that she could trace on the girl.
He didn't really need the Fawleys anyways. Hector Fawley had been sacked just a few years before. Tom doubted that their family had any positive influence in the ministry these days. Besides, if he did need them, he could always send his condolences to the family during Millie's funeral.