It didn't take much effort to get to Mr. Riddle, or Mr. Riddle the younger as he was known in town. Word that there was a new girl in the troop was enough to capture his attention, and Harry hoped her 'newness' was enough of a draw to take her to the house rather than take her there in the barn.

Harry tugged at the cow's udders, watching as drops of milk slowly filled the bucket. The cow mooed in frustrastion.

"You and me both, girl," Harry replied sympathetically.

"Well, I see our new dairy girl is hard at work. Though I doubt your poor efforts aren't going to be appreciated."

The voice came from the barn door, it was smooth and clipped, in the Received Pronunciation style, similar to what Harry has heard in the films. She turned to the source of the voice, and almost did a double take.

Tom Riddle Sr. really did look like a double for his son, though he carried himself in a relaxed, yet bored demeanor. His hair was beginning to go grey at the temples, and he was immaculately dressed in a pale suit.

"Every bit counts, Mr. Riddle, I'm sure you're aware of that. And milk production is more about quality of feed rather than milking ability." Harry replied.

Riddle frowned. "Ah yes, can't be helped, I'm afraid. Most of our feed going to the war effort and all that." He walked over to the cow and tapped its hind. "But Duchess here has always been reliable, I'm sure she'll pull through." He patted the cow affectionately, and took a lingering look at Harry. She felt herself being judged as if she was a horse on auction.

"But I suppose it is true what they say about milkmaids, always the most beautiful girls on the farm," he purred.

"I suppose it had to do with their exposure to cowpox, it created a natural inoculation to smallpox, so they would have the clearest skin," Harry rambled, half-remembering the fact from her years in Muggle primary school.

Surprised, he laughed. "My, you are an odd duck. And you certainly don't sound like the type of girl who would join the Women's Land Army."

"How so?" Harry asked defensively.

"Well, your diction is far too good," he replied. "I suppose you've recently finished school?"

Harry nodded.

"Anywhere I would have heard of?" He asked.

"Doubtful," Harry dismissed. She stood up, ready to leave.

"Hang on, so I think I've got this. You obviously don't have any connections, or else you might have tried your hand some easier War effort activity, such as fundraising. But you sound well-educated, but possibly from a third-rate school. So, you must be an orphan, presumably with well-off parents or through the generosity of others received a scholarship."

Harry scowled. "Do you do this to every girl you meet, Mr. Riddle?"

"No, never. But I've never met someone as contradictory as you. And please, call me Tom. I've been watching you, you know."

"Is that so?" Harry asked, feigning disinterest. She grabbed her bucket, ready to leave. Mr. Riddle, Tom, grabbed her shoulder. She stopped, and she could feel Riddle's gaze examining her, undressing her.

"I say, has anyone ever told you that you have the most captivating eyes?" He asked, far too pleased with himself.

"I get that quite a lot, yes." Harry replied. She instinctively was about to frown, but offered a weak smile of her own. Nervously, she bit her lip.

He placed a stray hair of hers that had escaped from her braid behind her hair. His hand gently ran over the top of her head. "Have dinner with me, tonight at the house," he commanded. He seemed to assume it would work, since he gave her an easy smile.

"I'd get in trouble with my supervisor if I'm found out of bed," Harry answered.

"Oh, you will be back before then. I can assure you safe passage by nine o'clock. And if you're worried about curfew, I'll take care of it." Tom replied reassuringly. "Arrive at the servants' door, in the back. Our caretaker, Watson, will let you in. We're a bit short staffed these days."

Harry interjected, "I never said I was going to go."

Tom gave a knowing smile. "Well, the offer still stands, let's say six o'clock? I hope to see you there, Harriet." With that, he left. Harry briefly wondered how he knew her name, but assumed he must have been making inquiries about her for his latest conquest.

When she told the other girls about her invitation, they chattered and twittered. A night at Tom's was practically a right of passage, it seemed. Charlotte offered her curling iron, and Sofie offered her lipstick. While Harry only had the one dress from the Red Cross, the girls had done a fairly decent job of helping her look presentable. As Harry looked at her rolling curls and bright red lips, she could hardly believe she was the same girl who barely took note of her appearance at Hogwarts. She thanked her friends, and headed to the mansion.

As she stood at the door at the back of the large, black imposing manor, Harry took note of the entrances. Besides the main foyer and the servants' entrance, there was a door on the side across from the greenhouse, and a balcony on the third floor. There were three rows of windows, and what looked like a door leading onto the roof. Harry wished she had kept her Firebolt at hand, she could have had the option to fly to the roof, but now she would have to rely on entering the house with the Riddles' permission, or breaking in. Harry instinctively checked the secret pocket in her dress. She had sewn it her first week she had arrived unceremoniously in the past, and had used it to hide her wand and the Invisibility Cloak on her person at all times. She felt comfort knowing it was there. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door.

The caretaker, an old man Harry assumed was Watson, opened the door. "One of Mr. Tom's girls, I take it?"

Harry nodded.

"Right, come with me."

He led her towards a staircase by the kitchen, winding up two floors. As they silently walked the narrow hallway, Harry made a mental note. The house was a Victorian manor with the same system for the household staff. The servants' stairway led to every floor of the house, with a separate hallway leading to the rooms. This would prevent the servants from ever interacting with the master of the house and his family.

It was perfect for Tom to bring his girls, and for Harry to infiltrate.

When Watson stopped by Tom's room, he gave a hard tap at the door. Immediately, Tom opened it, greeting them both.

"Thank you, Watson, I'll take it from here. Hello darling, come in. You arrived just in time. Any later and the food would have gotten cold."

Watson nodded and headed back downstairs.

"You eat in your room?" Harry asked.

"In my study, but it's connected to my room. I find it's more enjoyable than having to spend time with the old mater and pater. I do love them, dearly, but sometimes they can be a bit much." Tom replied breezily. "You look lovely, by the way."

Harry gave a noncommittal noise, and they entered the room. It was spacious, with a large fireplace that was currently unused. The study and combined bedroom was decorated in the Art Deco style, with lavish leather chairs, glass lamps, and a sleek black table and matching desk. The room was covered in bookcases, and contained a polished wooden radio and a piano. Harry could see from the open door to the adjoining room that the bedroom was also spacious, with large windows, plush chairs, a wardrobe, and a circular bed.

Dinner was simple: soup and toast, with some cheese. The fact there was cheese was a luxury, and Harry knew she was supposed to be impressed.

"You seem to know so much about me, Tom. Tell me a little about yourself," Harry asked. Tom looked amused.

"You mean you don't know? Or are you asking me to retell my scandalous past?"

"Personally,I couldn't care less about that, it's old hat really. What does Tom Riddle care about? What makes him tick?"

Tom chuckled, and undid the top buttons on his shirt. "Well, that's certainly a first. It seems every girl wants to hear my tragic backstory of how I brought shame to my family and village. I suppose someone already told you."

"I'm vaguely aware of the details, but like I said, it's none of my business," She moved her chair closer to his, and she could smell his cologne, a mix of tobacco and vetiver.

"Oh?" Tom murmured. "Then what is?" He asked.

"You are," Harry answered, placing her hand on his face.

Immediately, Tom kissed her, passionately. He grabbed her hair and started to run his hand down her body, undoing the buttons on her dress. As it slid to the floor, he lifted her up and carried her to the bed. He undressed her, kissing her breasts, and moving his kisses down her body.

Despite herself, Harry found his touch electrifying, she exhaled and felt her body grow hot, pressure building inside of her. She started to undo his shirt and pulled down his pants, using her own mouth to pleasure him.

He seemed to enjoy it.

Harry wasn't a virgin, she had been intimate with other boys before. There was that disastrous relationship with Ron in Sixth Year, but it fell apart during the Horcrux hunt. Harry had just been too distant, pushing him away because she didn't want to accept her own feelings and because she knew Voldemort could sense them and use it against her. In the end, it was too much for him and he chose Hermione. When she saw them kiss after exiting the Chamber and destroying the Cup, she knew they were better together. She hadn't seen Ron so happy before.

Harry was caught out of her reverie when Tom insisted they go further. Eagerly, Harry obliged, feeling her arousal increase. As they moved together, their bodies entwined, Harry felt a rush of bliss as heat radiated from her, her face flushed. She let out a soft moan, and Tom quietly laughed. Tom was also sweating, his hair disheveled but still effortlessly elegant. She grabbed his shoulders and they continued, kissing each other in excitement and desperation.

When they finished, Tom held her tightly, and kissed her shoulder, his fingers idly playing with her now wild hair. Harry hoped he would have fallen asleep so she could explore the house, but no such luck. Perhaps this was a waste of time after all. Well, not a complete waste of time.

"I hope you will visit me again sometime soon," Tom whispered, kissing her lips.

Harry turned to face him. "I thought you weren't the type for repeat visits?" She grinned, teasing him.

"There's always a first for everything, Miss Evans," Tom replied, addressing Harry by her alias. "I find you fascinating, and I'd like to see where this goes."

"This? That's a rather quaint term for an affair."

"Call it what you like," Tom replied flippantly. "Anyway, I am a man of my word, I'll escort you back to your quarters."

"That's not necessary," Harry replied. "Besides, it would be quite embarrassing if you were caught."

"I could handle it," Tom chuckled.

"Well I couldn't, I'd be mortified," Harry joked. She dressed, and gave him a kiss.

"So I will see you again?" He insisted.

"Alea iacta est," Harry answered cryptically. Tom laughed, understanding immediately, but not realizing she wasn't joking.

"You know Latin? Not bad for a third-rate school," he muttered. "Come back sooner, rather than later. Maybe sometime this week?"

Harry agreed, leaving him to rest while she quietly departed the room. She took out the cloak and wandered about the house, mapping out the various passages mentally, and noting the layout of the floor plans. She had expected this would be her only visit, she wasn't sure how committed Tom was to seeing her again, but she was certain she could use his fleeting affections to her advantage. She still had to find a way to eliminate the Riddles without drawing attention to herself.

As she headed back to her quarters, she heard the siren go off. Harry quietly followed the other girls to the shelter, taking off her cloak and pretending she had been there the whole time. The other girls gave her sly grins, but kept her cover.

As the shelter rattled and the earth shook, Harry knew she had the perfect solution in front of her. She was going to have to target the Riddle House in an Air Raid. She felt the dust from the roof of the shelter fall onto her face, and she coughed. It could work, she would have to remove their blackout materials, or attract attention to the house.

As the bombing continued, Harry wondered where she could find phosphorescent paint.

—/—-/—-

Thank you for reading this chapter, I'd appreciate if you could take the time to review, it really does mean a lot to me. As for that last bit in Latin, it means, let the die be cast- or more appropriately, we have reached the point of no return.