A/N: Hey there, everyone! I wanted to point a few things out before you start reading so you're not confused about this story.
So, this is an OC that I've been playing around with a long time. She has an epic story with Mr. Tom Riddle, but I really don't have the time to sit down and write it all right now (school and stuff, you know). So I'm releasing a couple of the chapters/scenes that I really love. If you're aching for more Rhea Philips/Tom action, check out "His Forgotten Queen," and "Rainy Days are Just Full of Surprises." Thanks, guys. And, as always, I'd really appreciate constructive criticism. I write fanfictions to escape, but also to flex my writing muscles, so I'd appreciate it if you have any feedback on my writing!
Rhea Philips glided a hand over the books in Moribund's, feeling the fibers tickle her fingertips and breathing in the unmistakable scent of decaying paper. She was really in Knockturn Alley for the apothecary – her father required certain items to test a new spell he'd been working on – but she couldn't resist stopping in the bookstore before she started her errands. She was just browsing, really. Looking for those books that were rare and beautiful and would also look good in her extensive collection.
So far nothing caught her attention. She wondered if there were any books left that she didn't already own. Tapping the spines of several copies of Igerell's Book of Dark Spells, her eyes spotted a large book in the corner of the shelf, covered by an anti-theft charm. She could tell it was once magnificent, a gilded cover and green writing stamped onto its surface, but now the book had aged. The gold was tainted by spots of a bronze-brown and the green had faded to an almost black color in most areas.
Rhea squinted to read the spine. In Creation of Dark Curses by Corley Crowdering.
Her eyes widened. That book hadn't been in print in over eighty years. The Ministry of Magic had destroyed most of the copies long ago. They were considered too dangerous for the general public. There was a tenfold increase in murders the few years it had been in print.
Rhea needed that book like she needed to scratch her itchy nose.
"Mr. Moribund?" She called to the owner of the store.
"Yes, Miss Philips?" He replied without looking up from the book resting on the front counter. He crinkled his horrendously crooked nose and turned the page.
"How much?" She asked, staring him down. She didn't like when people didn't make eye contact with her, as if she wasn't worth their time (she most definitely was, however).
"How much for what, dear?" He still didn't look up.
Rhea cleared her throat and pursed her lips. "For this book."
Understanding that the conversation was clearly going nowhere, Mr. Moribund finally lifted his head and glanced at Rhea, who pointed to the book in question. He wasn't surprised that she would be interested in it, being from the line of Carlyle Philips. Creating new spells flowed through their blood, and they were damn good at it too.
"Three-hundred galleons. That's quite a rarity, you know."
"Yes, Mr. Moribund. I know." She silently cursed him. It may have been a reasonable price, but she certainly didn't have that kind of money in her pockets. She needed her father's wealth for this. "Can you hold it for me? I'll be back tomorrow with the money."
"We're closed tomorrow."
Rhea rolled her eyes. Mr. Moribund opened his shop when he wanted to and at the oddest of hours.
"The day after then."
"Closed then too." He said, having returned to the book in front of him. On a Saturday? The busiest shopping day? Clearly this wasn't just a matter of Mr. Moribund's unusual schedule.
"Mr. Moribund, you know I have the money…"
"Dear, your father has the money. Why don't you come back with him next time?" He flipped a page in his book, completely uninterested in Rhea now. Rhea clenched her teeth, feeling the icy heat of anger swell inside her. She gripped a hand on her wand, stroking the wood with pale fingers.
Her age was starting to show. Twenty-years-old and unmarried? Hardly anyone would serve her in this part of town without a male escort anymore. It was getting ridiculous. She was smarter than the average biscuit; couldn't they just get over their antiquated policies on femininity?
Rhea breathed in and out a few times, released her hand from the wand, and made her way to the front of the store. Before grabbing the door knob, she quickly turned back and said, "Have a nice day, Mr. Moribund." And then she walked out of the store still clenching her teeth. Looking both left and right, she lifted the hood of her robe onto her head and headed in the direction of the apothecary.
Tom was finished with his shift at Borgin and Burkes for the day. In one shift, he had been witness to many significant sales. Borgin purchased the Hand of Glory, traded the Scales of Hinturongth for a ruby said to contain the soul of Merlin's mistress. He had been able to look at them all, and to feel the power and rarity permeating off of them. None of them had been quite perfect enough for his plans, however. No, he needed something better, something more meaningful.
He left the store with galleons in his pocket and a calm, almost chipper disposition. Those two things combined lead him to head straight for The White Wyvern for a meal.
His shoes clacked on the cobblestone pavement as he ignored the faces he passed in the alley. It was uncommonly dark today – the light preferring to shine in more hospitable places – so it was easy to glide through the alley unnoticed.
Something in the air suddenly changed that caused his hair to stand on end. He took notice of his surroundings, searching to the left and right of him before finally looking forward again. At that moment, the sky opened up and a glare of light only about a meter wide entered the alley. It caught a shiny piece of metal on a woman's chest. Her necklace. Wait…not her necklace. His necklace that he gave to her.
Tom positioned his eyes on the woman's face. She looked a little older, a little more refined, but still had the same wickedness to her expression. Her hair was longer – her fringe grown out, and curled in loose waves that accentuated the length of her neck. When she turned quickly to her left, Tom could see that her jaw was clenched and her nostrils were flared. He could always tell when she was angry. Someone had probably ignored her, or insulted her intelligence. He wanted to look closer at her face, but before he could do so, she turned in the other direction and then lifted a hood onto her head. And then she began walking away from him.
He was frozen for a moment. They hadn't spoken since their last day at Hogwarts. He could almost guarantee she wouldn't respond if he called out her name. But meeting like this… with the light plainly pointing him to her, he knew it was time that they become reacquainted. Now was as good a time as any to enact his plans.
Rhea had walked a few meters before hearing a voice calling behind her. It was low and soft, but she recognized it almost instantly.
"Rhea. I thought I'd meet you here eventually."
She stopped walking, but didn't turn to face him. She sighed. She'd done so well to avoid him for three years.
"Mr. Riddle. I'd actually hoped we would never meet again."
Tom chuckled from behind her. She didn't want to face him, but she also knew how dangerous he could be when she wasn't watching his every movement.
"You made that perfectly clear when you refused to respond to any of my letters." He said. Rhea gripped her wand concealed under her robe as she spun to meet Tom's gaze. Of course, he was handsome as ever. Gaunt, but strong. Dark and angled. A long face and a full head of black hair.
"Yes. Well…" she paused, unsure of what to say. "Can I help you with something? I've business elsewhere."
"I just wanted to know what had you so angry back there in front of Moribund's," he said.
She cocked an eyebrow, but remained stoic. "How could you possibly know that I was angry?"
He smirked. "Your beauty might have increased, but your facial expressions are just the same, Rhea."
A girl less acquainted with the ways of Tom might've blushed at his words, but Rhea was practiced in the language of Riddle. Commenting on her appearance? Tom must've really wanted something from her. Rather than try to keep her secrets (that method never worked – he always found out what he wanted know), she knew to simply divulge them with a disinterested air. The best way to let Tom have his way was to make him think she was apathetic about it. "Mr. Moribund wouldn't sell me Crowdering's In Creation of Dark Curses without an escort present. And we both know my father prefers not to make appearances in such public places."
Crowdering? Rare and unusual. He knew Rhea would be dying to have it. His mind was already plotting.
"I'll make a deal with you then. You agree to have one drink with me in exchange for the book."
Rhea laughed. He'd forgotten the sound of it.
"Mr. Riddle, that book is three hundred galleons."
He nodded. "And it will be yours if you carry on a conversation with me during our drink." Rhea clearly didn't believe him. "I promise you," he said.
"Promise, Riddle? Why should I trust you to keep it?"
"Have I ever lied to you, Rhea?" He smirked yet again. She pursed her lips.
"All the time, actually."
"Fine. Have I ever broken a promise then?'' he asked. Tom watched her cock her head to the side, and survey his every feature. He knew for a fact he'd never broken a promise to her, because he'd never promised her anything. After looking him up and down, she just sighed.
"Alright, Riddle. One drink. One conversation. And then you purchase my book." She had no idea why she was doing this to herself.
Tom nodded, as Rhea set off in the direction of the White Wyvern.
Thankfully, no one would see Tom and Rhea together as long as she had her hood up. That could leave some with a very wrong impression of the two of them, an impression she just couldn't allow to circulate through pureblood circles. She also did her best to remain silent, only replying to a few questions on the short walk to the tavern. She kept her responses monosyllabic until they were seated in a dim booth of the White Wyvern.
The air in the tavern was tinged with ice and secrecy. Though it was peak dining hours, only faint voices could be heard from the customers. Flames flickered from short, stubby candles perched on each table. Rhea smelled the stench of old and spilled alcohol. Various eyes peaked from meals and drinks to examine the room. Everyone here was on edge. They refused to be caught off-guard.
"You can take your hood off now, Rhea." Tom said. Rhea still hadn't removed it.
"I'd prefer to remain concealed, Riddle. I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea about our relationship."
"Ah, you mean you wouldn't want anyone to think we were meeting in pub for a secret rendezvous that would take place in a bedroom upstairs?" Tom looked entertained from what Rhea could see in the dim room.
"Exactly."
A bartender suddenly appeared before the pair, his knobby shape deformed and distorted. "What can I get for you lot?" The old man asked, an air of disinterest seeping through his words.
"A Snakeblight for me, sir." Tom answered.
"Just a glass of water for me, please." Rhea followed. As quickly as the witch spit out those words, the bartender had left.
"So, Riddle. Since you were dying to speak to me, what exactly do you have to say?"
"Nothing of any importance. Just wished to carry on a conversation with an old friend."
Rhea rolled her eyes. "Yes, of course." A pause. "Fine, then, Riddle. Let's talk. I noticed you're not Minister of Magic yet. Not as easy as you thought, huh?" Rhea cocked an eyebrow. She thought back to a younger Tom, one that aspired to rule the magical world, give it a future they both envisioned. It made her sad.
"Actually, I turned down several positions at the Ministry. Surely you know my plans have changed." Rhea drummed her fingers on the wooden table. "I work at Borgin and Burkes. I'm paid well for my time and I see the most incredible magical artifacts. You'd actually love the job, Rhea." He smirked. Her fingers stopped thrumming on the table, as she clenched her fingers into fists.
Rhea's lips thinned. Of course he still knew just how to get under her skin. Rhea would have loved to pull out her wand and hex Tom into oblivion, but just then the knobby man returned with their drinks. Tom's Snakeblight, a deep emerald green, fizzed at its surface. Rhea's water looked unappetizing beside it, but she wasn't in the habit of drinking with men.
"So, Rhea," Tom began after taking a swig of his Snakeblight. "Why is it that you need your father to escort you still? Can't your husband fill that role?"
Rhea wanted to cut that smug look clean off her old classmate. Tom hadn't changed one bit. He was still so phenomenal at steering conversation directly in the way he wanted it. Well, she was going to try to change it up on him.
"You know just as well as I do that I remain unmarried, Riddle."
"Do I?"
"Yes, because you have done everything in your power to make it so."
Tom smiled. As predictable as he made Rhea out to be, she was still full of surprises. Rhea took the gap in conversation to drink her water.
"What do you mean, Rhea?"
"You know exactly what I mean. You've made me some sort of…marriage pariah to all the eligible Pureblood bachelors of the Slytherin house. I'm assuming you wanted to torture me even further? Drive me to desperation, maybe? So I'd have to come crawling back to you, begging for mercy?"
"And what in Salazar's name led you to believe that fallacious lie?" Tom asked, watched Rhea take another huge drink of her water. Her glass was halfway empty already.
"At first, I didn't. I thought maybe that my own reputation preceded me, that Nott had probably spread some horrifying lie to all of your posse. When no one in our year seemed interested in me, my family searched elsewhere. Years above me, years below me…the interest was few and far between. Finally, Father had found a pureblood Hufflepuff that was willing to marry me. He may have been an oaf, but at least he would carry on pureblood genes. Negotiations for my hand began almost immediately. My family was desperate. The man was a day away from signing a marriage contract when he disappeared. Gone without a trace. No one knew where he went." A pause. "Well, except for you, Riddle."
"I have no idea what you mean."
"Sure, sure," Rhea leaned further over the table, trying to get as close to his face as possible and lifting her face so he could see her expression even under her dark hood. "Listen, Riddle. You need to stop your games. I'm done having you play with my life. Let me get married, carry on my bloodline, and die. I don't want anything to do with you anymore." Rhea picked up her glass of water, and drank the rest of the glass in one gulp, all while staring Tom down. He watched her curiously, but said nothing.
"I finished my drink, Riddle. Time to pay up." Rhea said, sitting back in her chair. She dropped the venom from her face and instead opted for a disinterested air.
"But my glass is still full. I said one drink, Rhea."
"Fine. What else do you have to discuss?"
Tom smirked. "I just have one last topic to get off my chest." A pause. "Why did communication between us cease after we graduated? What did I do to make you hate me so much?"
Rhea was silent for a while. She remembered the day well. They stood by the lake as birds chirped, and wind slid past blades of grass and brushed her ankles. She remembered leaving him on the lake's shore, internally vowing to never speak to him again. But he probably had no idea what he said that affected her so.
Rhea swallowed, saliva wedging passed a dry esophagus. She didn't normally drink with men, but she made an exception now. Rhea quickly snatched the Snakeblight, dumped the whole drink down the back of her throat, swallowed, and slammed the glass back on the table. She stood and stared at Tom.
"There. Your drink is empty. Now you can give me what you owe." She said.
Tom stayed seated, his mouth closed. He focused on clenching his teeth, a signal that Rhea would think meant annoyed. Underneath his feinted expression, Tom was amused. He had missed his lethal partner.
When Tom had collected himself and shoved the remnants his human emotion back into the crevices of his fractured soul, he calmly looked to Rhea. "I said I promised to buy you the book. I never said when I promised to give you it."
The stared at each other for a moment before Rhea just sighed. "Alright then, Riddle. Whenever you get the chance then." And then she left. Just walked out of the tavern without a goodbye or a second glance.
Tom was left to two empty cups and an empty table. He dropped a few sickles on the table and slunk out of the building. He had no time to dilly dally. After all, he had a few errands of his own to run before Rhea went home. It was time he introduced himself to her parents.