"I never thought I'd find you here," someone said behind me. The voice was deep and smooth, and above all things it was overwhelmingly condescending. It couldn't be, I thought to myself. I turned around and looked into the face of none other than Tom Riddle Jr. for the first time in six years… and I couldn't help the grin that erupted on my face.
I wiped my hands on my apron more out of anxiousness than actually having to clean them off and studied the man before me for the briefest of seconds. The Tom Riddle Jr. I had known had grown into a man. He had the slightest hint of a five o'clock shadow on his face, and although Tom was always cocky, it seemed that the cockiness had been replaced with the cool confidence that comes with maturity. I knew I was beaming at him, but Tom was as stoic as ever. "Believe it or not, I actually enjoy being a barmaid. Strange, isn't it?"
"You were meant for more than that," he said very seriously. His eyes seemed to be piercing into my soul, and I could see how almost disappointed he was in me.
That only made me smile bigger. Oh, Tom. I shrugged, "I don't really look at it like that. It may be simple, but I have the power to make somebody's day. That means more to me than a paycheck or a title." Tom rolled his eyes at me, and it was like nothing had changed. Tom was always very formal and professional with everybody, so to have him roll his eyes at me was almost… intimate? It was as if I was his best friend again.
I fought a blush and cleared my throat, "I don't mean to be rude, but did you have a particular reason for coming by or did you simply have a craving for greasy bar food?"
"I am in need of a favor, Milagros."
I shook my head, "The last time you said those words-"
"I remember," he said cutting me off with a tone and expression that I couldn't read.
"How long will it take?"
He paused momentarily and then spoke slowly, "A while. I am not mistaking when I assume that you'll be closing soon, correct?"
I nodded. "Give me about twenty minutes. You can wait here," I said gesturing to a table.
"Thank you," he said taking a seat in a booth.
I returned to work, though I had a hard time focusing on the customers as my eyes kept darting to the booth where Tom was sitting quietly with a book. Tom taking the time to pay me a visit stirred up a plethora of emotions within me. I refused to think of what he could possibly want from me; it was far too nerve-racking, and I couldn't shake the bitterness that he only came to see me when he was in need of a favor. But Tom was here to see me, and the excitement made it a struggle to care all that much. I could be angry after I knew what it was about.
When the last customer finally left, I took off my apron, smoothed my dress, and walked toward the booth. Tom was sitting there waiting patiently. As I slid in across from him, his pupils dilated slightly and his face almost softened.
"What do you need, Tom?" I asked.
"No small talk, Milagros? I am impressed you keep customers with those manners," Tom mocked. I couldn't stop marveling at how much he had changed, and yet how little he had. He was as cold as ever, but he seemed to hide it less. I guess it's because he didn't need to anymore.
"I figure it's best to make this as quick and painless as possible. As happy as I may be to see an old friend, I can't say I feel very willing to do him any favors," I said a little harsher than intended, but Tom could handle it. I think that's what I miss most about him. I could say what I thought in the most honest way possible, and he wouldn't be offended in the slightest. It felt so nice to be completely honest with somebody.
"I seem to remember you being very willing, my old friend," Tom said dryly, making me blush. He noticed the effect of his words and the sides of his mouth turned upward.
"In this case, however, it would not be wise to, as you say, 'make this quick.' As much as I despise elaborate story-telling, I believe it to be necessary for you to do what I want," he paused for half a second to look at me severely, and I stared back with a mixture of anticipation and skepticism.
He looked at me very seriously and spoke in a low, deep voice, "My goal is to become immortal, Milagros. I will not die as my filthy mother died giving birth to me. For this to be at all plausible, it will require obtaining power beyond that which any other wizard has held. I am rising, as I'm sure you know."
I raised my eyebrows. Tom hardly ever spoke of his lineage, and I'm certain he never spoke of them so negatively to me. I could only nod.
"Unfortunately, this requires a certain amount of politics-"
"Politics that you know full well I don't agree with," I interrupted with a warning in my voice.
He shot me a glare. Its warning put my tone to shame.
"Politics that are ultimately irrelevant. They connect to me angry people, foolish people, who will do whatever I tell them in the name of these hollow ideas. One of these ideas is that of a pureblood, or that wizarding families are more powerful and worthy than muggleborn families. As a leader, it is important that I set an example for my lemmings. In addition, as the heir of Slytherin, it is imperative that I continue the line."
There was a pause. He held my gaze and apparently felt no obligation to say anything more. This was Tom's idea of elaborate story telling? There was something I was supposed to piece together.
"So you want to get married?" I guessed, trying to process it all.
"Yes."
I couldn't help but feel a hard slap of jealousy. It was completely irrational to be jealous of a man I hadn't seen in six years, but I couldn't deny it. He couldn't be with me in the past, and I was his best friend. He no doubt had found someone beautiful and cold as he is with what I'm sure was an impressive all-wizard family history.
"Merlin, Tom, just tell me what the favor is. Do you need a love potion?"
Tom snorted, "Milagros, I would not come all the way here for you to brew a simple love potion, and you and I both know that I have no need for one."
"Then what do you need?"
Tom smirked, "I see I have to spell it out for you."
"If you would be so kind," I said icily.
"You will be my wife."
My jaw dropped. My stomach rose into my throat. I couldn't breathe.
"Wh-what?!" I said. It ended up sounding like a series of shocked noises instead of a single word, and I would be completely impressed if Tom even knew I was actually trying to say something.
He just kept smirking cockily at me. After a couple of seconds, I decided that I should try to get a grip, and discuss this like a normal person. I rubbed my sweaty palms on my dress and took a deep breath.
"Tom, there are so many reasons-"
"I assumed as much, but I will refute each one. Begin."
"Well, first off, I have a job and a life outside of you," I said, my tired brain scrambling for reasons. I knew it was a bad idea, and I knew there were perfectly logical reasons behind it, but for the life of me, I could not piece them together. My career as a barmaid. That was what I chose to be upset about in this whole situation.
Tom took it seriously, though, and calmly replied, "By my side, you will have a job and duty that is worth something. Here, there is nothing for you."
I loved the way he said, 'by my side,' and I hated my brain for loving it, "Weren't we encouraged to do what we enjoy? Regardless of pay or importance? That's what I'm doing, Tom."
"If you're happy being a barmaid in a pub, you'll be happy anywhere."
"I can guarantee you that I won't be happy killing innocents, kissing your ass, and starting a war. That's where this is going, Tom. You realize that, right?"
"The ends justify the means."
I paused, "That's all you have to say for yourself?"
"Milagros, can you honestly say that you are shocked?" he said with his eyes tightening. If I was being honest, I was shocked that he had a reason, immortality, for doing what he did. I thought Tom was just being Tom for the sheer pleasure of being Tom.
"Look, even if I was comfortable endorsing and supporting your ideas, there are other issues," I said trying to stall.
"Address them."
I knew there were others, but couldn't think of any at the moment, so I went a different route, "Why me, Tom? Surely you are capable of finding some beautiful pureblood that supports your ideas to no end."
Tom looked exhausted, "It truly is tiring to repeat myself, Milagros. The politics are just politics. Nothing more. I do not wish to be with anyone that genuinely believes in my lies. It would be exhausting to spend my life with someone so dense, and while there are beautiful women who I could convince to marry me much more easily, you have favorable qualities. Your abilities in potions and other subjects would be fine traits in my heir."
"But there's a fundamental flaw here-"
"Oh, please enlighten me," Tom mocked.
I narrowed my eyes at him, "You say an example needs to be set, but no one knows my origins. I could be, and probably am, muggle-born."
"It's an easy enough solution. I tell my followers that I tracked your parents, and that you are not only pureblood, but of impressive lineage."
"What if they require proof?"
"They won't."
"It seems like so much trouble, Tom."
"I want the best for Slytherin's heir. I won't settle for any less."
It's pathetic, but he won me over right there. "It will be difficult, Tom. I want you to know that. I'm not going to be an easy wife and it will be difficult for me to stand by and watch what you do, let alone endorse it, but I will try. If you are sure it is what you want."
"Would I be here if I wasn't certain?"
"I suppose not. I do have some conditions, however."
He glared at me, "You may make requests, not conditions."
"Very well, but if my requests aren't met, I will refuse your proposal," I said putting my foot down. I wasn't going to be unhappily married. I wasn't.
He smirked, "I always get what I want, Milagros, but, if it eases the transition for you, make them known."
"I ask that you remain faithful, no matter how advantageous an affair might be to you," I said feeling ridiculous for having to add that second part.
"If we are including the basic implications of marriage, then I have conditions for you as well."
"I thought they were requests," I said rudely.
"For me, yes. For you, they are nonnegotiable standards," he said.
"This favor is decreasing rapidly in its appeal," I said causing an almost smile from Tom.
"Continue with your requests. Then I will tell you my expectations."
"I understand what you do and I won't try to stop you from doing it, but I would appreciate if you would understand that I want as little to do with it as possible. From what I gather, I will be nothing more than a figurehead for your pureblood family. I guess what I'm asking is, is it in my job description to kill or torture anyone?" I said feeling embarrassed and childish. Leave it to Tom Riddle to make me feel stupid for having an aversion to killing people.
"I cannot guarantee that you will not have to, however, I will make an effort to avoid it."
"Thank you," I said sincerely. Mostly I appreciated that he took me seriously and didn't point out the irony in the Dark Lord's wife being opposed to killing.
"I also ask that you don't physically injure me in any-"
"Agreed," he said, "Next request."
"Alright. I don't know what sort of company you keep, but I request that your followers refrain from physically harming me as well."
He smirked, "Do you really think they'd try to harm the Dark Lord's wife? Not one of them has the guts. Or the stupidity."
I smiled slightly, "Umm, that should do it, then. Oh, I also don't want to be locked in a tower or anything."
"Amusing, Milagros. However, I am pleasantly surprised. I initially believed you had materialistic requests."
"I'm always flattered by your high opinion of me," I said, rolling my eyes, "What are your expectations?"
"You will refer to me as 'My lord,'" he stated.
"Tom-" I started to protest.
"These aren't negotiable. You will appear by my side when asked. Any personal issues will be dealt with privately, and displays of affection will be strictly limited. I'm sure you will concur with the last two."
I decided to bring up the "My lord" issue at another time and simply nodded in agreement to the other conditions. Tom knew how much I hated scenes and discussion of private life in front of people. It was nothing more than a lack of self control and restraint in my eyes, and frankly, it was pathetic.
"No other man will touch you," he said so coldly that a shiver ran down my back, "I will not limit who you fraternize with. I do not believe in putting a leash on a woman, but that does not make me forgiving of extra marital involvement. You will be satisfied and will have no need for others. Is that unmistakably clear?"
"Of course," I said. I could feel the blush on my face. Jealous Tom was not someone I was familiar with. It was terrifying and, I am ashamed to say, exhilarating at the same time. Having him mention satisfying me on top of it caused butterflies in my stomach. It was pathetic. I was twenty-two years old and blushing like a school girl.
"Good. You will never undermine my authority, however much you may disagree. This includes sabotaging any action or order given. These are not overly difficult to adhere to, I trust?"
"Well, calling you 'My lord' will take some getting used to," I said, "but I think if we consider the absurdity of what we're about to do, it's overall a fairly reasonable set of expectations."
"Despite your sarcasm, I am pleased."
"I'm glad, so what happens now?"
"Preparations are being made. There will be a ceremony shortly. Put in your two week notice here. Someone will pick you up, wear something nice." he said sliding out of the booth and putting on his coat and hat.
"You had it planned already?" I said, shuffling out after him.
"Of course," he said turning to leave.
"Wait!" I said stumbling out of the booth.
"Yes, Milagros?" he asked impatiently.
"You know I'm old fashioned. Can we do this properly?"
"I'm sorry, do what properly?" he said boredom clear in his voice. I gave him a hard look. His steely eyes relaxed slightly, and we had an immediate understanding. If he does this, there's no going back. For either of us. I held firm as the Dark Lord approached me with an unreadable expression on his face. He stopped about a foot in front of me and dropped down to one knee. He grabbed my hand, looked up at me in the eyes and said in a cold, confident voice, "Milagros Rodriguez, will you be my wife?"
It was something I knew I would cherish forever. Tom Riddle Jr. kneeling before me. I smiled, "I will. Thank you, Tom."
He got off the ground, grabbed me by the waist, pulled me to him, and kissed me roughly. It had been six years, but memories came rushing back. I could never forget the feel of his lips on mine, but experiencing them again made me realize something very important; the home I had been longing for wasn't the orphanage or Hogwarts, it was wherever this man was and had been all along. In retrospect, whenever I felt safe or like I belonged, Tom Riddle Jr. was always the common denominator. We were two outcasts, but we had each other through it all, even if it wasn't obvious. Although I'm certain that the kiss was to reestablish his dominance after kneeling before me, it erased whatever doubt I had from my mind about marrying Tom. He broke it off far too soon, and I nearly collapsed on the floor from the aftershock. Tom steadied me with one of those rare almost smiles on his face. After he was sure I wasn't going to fall over, he turned on his heel and left the pub without another word, shaking his head all the while.