Summary: Way, way back when, just after Riddle leaves Hogwarts, he meets a young woman in Borgin and Burkes. He learns that she is a transfer student to his old school, and hatches a plan that consists wooing this American stranger.

Chapter One

Tom heard her slight southern drawl from the back room at Borgin's. He could hear the usual softness behind the hard, demanding tone. It immediately went to his groin. She had a bedroom voice, but he had a sneeking suspicion that she really didn't know how to use it.

"I don't know what it's called. My father wants it for personal reasons. It's a blue diamond, or something like that, necklace. I think," she muttered the last to herself as he walked up behind the counter to study the girl that had him aroused.

She was tiny, and muggle-looking. She was wearing almost all denim, a denim jacket and pants, covered with weird symbols that had been bleached in. Her hat was military style, and covered the top of a curly, strangely sexy mess of dark brown curls. She was rifling through her side bag, looking for something. He assumed a piece of paper because the bag was filled with them. When she looked up with a small look of triumph in her sparkling ice blue eyes. Her skin was pale, even paler than his, and flawless. She seemed to be a china doll to him. But there was a steel to her he had never seen in a woman.

"Here, he drew it out for me. Can you help me find this?" she asked, failing at practiced patience.

"I'll take care of that, ma'am," he said with a perfect-customer-pleasing smile.

She cast him a shocked look as if she hadn't even realized he'd been standing there.

"Oh, thank you," she said with her own plastic smile as she handed him the picture.

He looked at the necklace. "Oh, this is a nasty piece of work. Did he tell you why he needed it?" Tom asked as he walked around the counter to find the necklace under the glass at the far end of the store.

"No, but I'm hoping it's for his new wife, she is such a bitch," the woman confided.

Tom was surprised to hear such a word from a young lady. It was so unlike any woman he had ever spoken to. She was strange…and then he realized it. She was foreign. That southern drawl wasn't an identity cover, it was real. She was an American.

"You're from America?" he asked, making conversation.

"Sure. Does it matter?" she asked, immediately on the defensive.

"No, I just recognized your accent as different, is all. Here you go," he said as he opened the case.

"Perfect," she said, her smile genuine now.

She reached out to touch it, and her stopped her. "No touching, ma'am. Any one who touches it regrets it whole-heartedly."

She nodded and put her hands back in the pockets of that worn, discolored jacket. "Right, forgot about that. Could you bag it for me?"

He smiled as he closed its box. "I don't think you're going to be able to cover the price, ma'am."

She blew out a puff of air and glared at him. "Do I really look like a madam to you? I'm younger than you are, I'd bet," she pointed out.

"Sorry, miss. I'll refrain from being polite."

"I'd be ever so grateful," she said with a sickly sweet smile. "What's the cost?"

"Six hundred and eighty-two galleons," he told her, knowing it was a lot for someone who had holes in the knees of their jeans.

She nodded and gently bit on that plush, slightly colored lower lip that looked ready for rough kisses. Then, she asked, "Will you take Six hundred and fifty for it?"

He looked shocked that she was trying to bargain. He did the quick math in his head. No profit lost, just a little less than planned. Borgin wouldn't mind.

"All right, then. But up front," he clarified.

"Of course. I'm ready to pay," she said.

"Follow me, then," he said with another plastic grin.

"Will do," she said as he passed.

He rung her up, still peering at her through his longer hair. She was looking around, examining the environment.

He wrapped the necklace's box up in tissue paper, then wrapped it in paper. She counted out the appropriate number of galleons and stacked them on his counter. She wasn't kidding, she had with her six hundred and fifty galleons.

He handed her the package. "Thank you, miss…"

"Just call me Chris," she muttered as she shoved the box into her bag and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Come again, Chris," he told her what he said to all the customers.

"I'll probably be in again sometime in the near future," she told him, then looked around. "This place could have a few useful items for school," she said softly again to herself.

"School?"

"New school this year," she explained. "Not sure what's going to happen."

He nodded, then realized. "Hogwarts?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, pointing at him with a long finger. "That place. You know it?"

He laughed. "Yeah, left there about two years ago now. You're a little old to be starting there, though, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I'm transferring. Better than my old school," she offered as the only explanation.

"Interesting," he said softly.

"Why?" she asked.

"I've never heard of anyone transferring, that's all," he explained.

"I guess I'm just special," she said with a cheesy grin. "Goodbye," she said suddenly and made her way to the door.

He stopped her. "Chris," he called out her name. She seemed to think about stopping before she fully did and she turned, her hand holding the door open and letting the sunlight pour in. It made her look angelic.

"Yes?" she asked slowly.

"I'm just about to go on my break. Will you accompany me?" he asked softly.

She looked surprised, then gathered herself together again. "Maybe next time, lover boy," she said flippantly.

"It's Tom," he told her.

"Bye, Tom," she said with a wry grin, and she left. Her hand, however, lingered on the door. And on her wrist was a thin powder-blue band.

*

Christopher Davis laughed to herself as she walked down Knockturn Alley and onto Diagon Alley. She'd been in the country for two days and she already had a date offer. It seemed being "exotic" had it's benefits. She thought about the man though. He was hot, in a quiet, nerdy way. He had a wry sense of humor, obviously. And, she wasn't sure about it, but she sensed that there were definitely some muscles underneath that old, hand me down suit.

She entered The Leaky Cauldron and ordered a drink as she sat at the bar. The man there looked at her suspiciously. She just smirked at him, then looked around. The person she was meeting there was going to walk in at any moment.

She had had a drink and was half way through another when he sat down beside her. He was a handsome blonde man with smiling brown eyes. He was a strong looking, but rather wirey once you got down to it.

"You got it?" he asked softly. His hand rested on the thigh of her crossed legs. She pushed it off casually.

"Yeah, I've got it. You got the money?" she asked sweetly.

"In my back pocket. You want to reach for it?" he asked flirtatiously.

She glared at him suddenly. "Cut the shit, Greg, and give me my money."

"Necklace first."

"No. You fucked me over last time I did that. Money first."

Greg stared at her for a moment, then smiled. This time, it didn't reach his malicious eyes. "If only that were true, Chrissy. All right, just this one time, money first," he said, and handed her the envelope with the bills in it. She opened it up and did a quick count, saying a small spell to make sure it was legit. Then, satisfied, she handed him the package.

"Thank you, honey," he said sweetly. "Give me a kiss goodbye?" he asked.

"Here's a better idea," she said brightly, "I say goodbye, and you kiss my ass," she finished. Then, she paid for her drinks, shouldered her bag and left.

"You'll come crawling to me someday, Chrissy. I'll fuck you yet!" he shouted at her.

She flipped him the bird before she exited the establishment and joined muggle London.