Keeper's Intuition

April 12, 1944

Rose could barely sit still as her mother fastened a delicate string of pearls around her neck. She was antsy, nervous about the night ahead of them. At least she could play it off as excitement.

And that's exactly what her mother took it as.

"I remember that feeling of fervor. Young love can be so splendid." There was a hint of sadness in her mother's voice, but Rose attributed it to the nostalgia that every adult must feel when they look back upon their adolescent years. "I must admit that I was hopeful for a long while that you and Markus would make amends. Even so, your father and I are pleased you found someone you truly fancy. It's time for you to think of your future."

Of course, by future she meant a wedding and children soon after. Rose thought about reminding her mother that she had little interest in domestic life and would rather pursue an actual career, but thought better of it. Now was not the time for that battle.

The doorbell rang and fresh panic hit her.

Her mother glanced at her excitedly. "It sounds as though Tom has arrived." She stepped out of Rosemary's room and into the hall and shouted, "Zisly, please fetch the door!"

Rose looked at her reflection in the mirror of her vanity table and took a few ragged breaths.

Calm down. You've rehearsed this in your head at least a thousand times.

She stood and hurried into the hall, scurrying past her mother and down the marble staircase that led to the foyer. "I'll answer it, Zisly!"

"Rose, stop bustling about! It's unladylike!" Evelyn scolded.

She didn't slow down until she arrived at the front door and saw that Zisly had already let Tom inside. Their house-elf gave her an apologetic look. "I'm sorry Miss Rosemary."

"That's alright, Zisly. Why don't you go prepare for dinner?" Rose said, though her eyes were transfixed on Tom. In his impeccably well-fitting suit that accentuated his tall frame, he looked as dashing as ever. When her parents took one look at him, they would surely be convinced that he came from an affluent family.

"Good evening, Tom," she greeted him with a small smile and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. She stepped back and looked into his dark eyes, searching for some sort of reassurance that the night would go exactly as they had planned, but they were entirely blank.

"Good evening, Rosemary." His tone was foreign to her at first, but she quickly realized that it was exactly how he used to speak to her when they were merely acquaintances. It made her uncomfortable and she wished he could speak to her as casually as she had grown accustomed to. But that would have to wait; now it was time for them both to put on a bit of a show.

It was then that her own selfishness struck her. She should be the one giving him reassurance, not the other way around.

Her mother joined them in the foyer. "Mrs. Horton," Tom greeted her, kissing the top of her hand. "Thank you for allowing me to visit your lovely home." She had to hand it to him; his manners were utterly flawless.

Even Evelyn, the queen of proper etiquette, looked impressed. "We're so pleased you could find the time to visit. The holiday can be such a busy time for everyone."

Tom flashed his handsome smile and her mother stood there just staring at him for a moment in its aftermath. She slowly seemed to recover, though her eyes remained glued to him as she spoke to Rose: "I'll fetch your father from his study and meet you both in the dining room."

She left and Rose gave him what she thought was a convincingly optimistic look. The exchange had gone quite well, but there was a long night ahead of them. Tom's mask of formality fell for just a moment as a worried shadow passed rapidly over his features, revealing that he too was aware of this reality. She took his hand and squeezed it in reassurance before she led him through the house.

Her parents soon came downstairs to join them. Tom shook her father's hand and they took their seats at the large dining room table.

"I wish I could say that I've heard more about you, Tom, but Rosemary has been mysteriously quiet. She hasn't even told us your last name."

This had been part of their plan, of course, to tell them as little as possible. But she hadn't expected her father to ask about his surname so quickly.

She held her breath as Tom answered. "It's Riddle, sir."

Zisly entered the room with a bottle of chardonnay and presented it to Rose's father. He swished the wine in the glass. "Riddle, hm?" Her father tasted the wine and he looked lost in thought for a moment. Rose couldn't tell whether he was thinking about Tom's name or the wine, but she hoped desperately that it was the latter. "That's a fine choice, Zisly."

The house-elf nodded and served a glass to each of them. Rose took a sip, thankful that her father hadn't dwelled on Tom's answer.

"Riddle…I can't seem to place it."

Rosemary nearly choked on her wine, suddenly filled with dread. Apparently, he hadn't moved past it as easily as she had hoped.

"Evelyn, dear, do we know any Riddle's?"

Her mother furrowed her eyebrows together. "It sounds rather familiar, actually."

Basil seemed satisfied, at least for the time being. Rose fought the urge to look to her right at Tom; she was afraid that her face would reveal too much.

It was her mother's turn to ask a question and thankfully it wasn't nearly as nerve-wracking. "What house are you in at Hogwarts?"

"Slytherin, madam."

"Please, darling, call me Evelyn." Clearly, she was completely charmed by Tom. It showed in the way she looked across the table at him.

"She's afraid of sounding old, but she has nothing to worry about. She doesn't look a day older than thirty," her father smirked.

"Slytherin is an excellent house," her mother smiled, ignoring her husband's comment. "Though we are a bit partial to Ravenclaw in this home."

Zisly reappeared with a round of salads for their first course. Rose took full advantage of the pause to steer the conversation away from Tom. "Father, how's business at Comet? I'm sure Tom would love to hear about it."

"It's as hectic as usual," her father sighed. Rose knew the fatigue in his voice was not an exaggeration; her father worked exceptionally hard even though Keitch, the company's co-founder, had stepped away from many of the day-to-day operations over the years. Basil could have retreated as well as their staff had grown exponentially, but he remained deeply involved in the company, especially when it came to broom design which was his chief passion. Rose had always been proud of him for his leadership.

"We're releasing the Comet 187 at the beginning of next month and everyone's scrambling." He frowned. "The marketing department is in shambles. It's exactly as I feared when I hired a few half-blood and muggle-born employees last summer to fill it. Unfortunately, there just aren't as many young pureblood wizards to meet our hiring demand. We take what we can get, I suppose."

Rose glanced at Tom, who was nodding in agreement. At first, it didn't faze her in the slightest that he agreed with her father's bias; she had to keep reminding herself that he was a half-blood.

A half-blood that shared their beliefs, as counterintuitive as it seemed.

"It all starts in the schools." Basil shook his head, continuing on. "There should be at least some sort of special program for the students that lack fully magical blood. You know, to help them catch up and all."

"I agree entirely," Tom said. "I've also wondered at times if, perhaps, there should simply be three separate schools."

Her father's face was unreadable for a few tense seconds and Rose downed the remainder of her wine. She rarely discussed politics with her parents and had no idea how they would perceive his views, which were apparently a bit more radical than she had anticipated. Although, he could have only said it to impress them; she wasn't sure.

Slowly, Basil nodded as a slightly amused look spread across his features. "Now that's an idea, Tom Riddle. Very forward-thinking of you."

"Thank you, sir."

Their main course was served and the conversation continued between bites. Rosemary's stomach dropped, though, as her father suddenly set down his fork and said, "I still can't quite seem to place the name 'Riddle'. What are your parents' names? I must know them somehow."

"Basil," Evelyn hissed. "Stop harassing Tom. It's not his fault you have an abysmal memory."

Rose's heart pounded against her chest as she sat there, helplessly. Now that her wine was gone, she didn't even have that to turn to.

"It's alright," Tom said coolly to her mother before turning his gaze back to Basil. "You have no reason to have heard of the name; they're simply the half-blood family that raised me."

Rose watched as her father exchanged a concerned glance with her mother. Tom made no indication that he had noticed as he continued in his calm, even voice. "My birth parents passed away when I was very young."

Evelyn put her hand to her mouth in shock and dismay.

"They were from Switzerland so I find it unlikely that you've heard of them either. I met the Riddle's when they were on vacation; they had been looking to adopt a child for some time and I ended up returning to London with them that summer."

"I'm so sorry to hear about your parents," Evelyn said.

"Thank you for your kindness, but I never knew them. They left me plenty to live off of, I grew up in a decent home – albeit a half-blood one – and I've managed to do relatively well at Hogwarts."

"He's being modest," Rose smiled. "He's the top student in every class."

"Such a tragic beginning makes your accomplishments all the more impressive," her father said finally.

Rose knew that their pity was driving him up the wall, but was happy he didn't let it show. Overall, she was quite impressed with his acting capability. Finally, the story they had rehearsed again and again was out in the open. Done and over with.

Zisly cleared their plates and Basil pushed his chair away from the table. "Evelyn, my dear, why don't you and Rosemary fix us some drinks while I show Tom the Quidditch room? We'll meet you outside on the back porch."

Rose rolled her eyes; her father showed off the room holding his various trophies and Falmouth Falcons memorabilia whenever he had the chance.

Evelyn nodded. "That sounds splendid. It's a beautiful evening and we should enjoy it."

They stood from the table. "This way, my boy!" Basil led Tom into the hallway, putting his arm around his shoulder as though he was one of his old Quidditch teammates.

Rose and her mother walked across the room to the large liquor cabinet. They could have asked Zisly to make them drinks, but sometimes she just didn't mix them right. She couldn't really be blamed, though; it would be like blaming someone who has never driven for being a bad driver. House-elves simply couldn't handle that amount of alcohol and it was near impossible for Zisly to make a perfect drink without knowing what it was supposed to taste like.

But, some people's preferences were easier to prepare than others: Rose procured the bottle of their best single-malt scotch for Tom and poured it into a tumbler.

"He's absolutely charming, Rose. You two make such a fine couple," Evelyn said, as she fixed an Old Fashioned for Basil.

"We do, don't we?"

"It's a shame that he was raised by half-bloods, but it's obvious from his magical talent that he is, indeed, a pureblood."

Rose nodded and began mixing herself a gin martini, feeling absolutely giddy. She suddenly also felt ridiculous for worrying so much that week: their plan had been utterly flawless, after all. She sighed contentedly. Their evening had gone just as perfectly as she had hoped with all her heart it would.

"Are you a Quidditch man, Tom?" Basil asked as they entered the massive room. Each wall was lined with various trophies and plaques. There were so many that Tom thought there might be a danger of going blind from the light they reflected if he were to visit the room in the daytime.

"I don't play for the house team, but I certainly enjoy watching a good match. It's a fine sport," he said. Slowly, he was gaining confidence and beginning to relax around Rose's father as they moved further and further from the discussion of his family. The need to act was quickly fading; it was so obvious that he had successfully charmed both of her parents.

He motioned for Tom to sit in a nearby armchair, so he sat. The older wizard crossed the room and took a plaque off the wall, bringing it back over to Tom and handing it to him. "This was awarded to me in 1930, after I retired from the Falmouth Falcons to dedicate more time to Comet. I was inducted to the International Quidditch Hall of Fame as one of the greatest Keepers in history."

Tom's eyes scanned the impressive plaque as Basil continued on. "Now, I'm not just telling you this story because I like to boast." He paused and Tom met his hazel-eyed gaze. "There are a lot of things that make a good Keeper, Tom: determination, agility, and the like. But do you know what makes a truly great Keeper?"

He shook his head.

"The ability to read people." The wizard took the plaque from his hands and strode across the room to return it to its display once more. "A great Keeper is always one step ahead of the Chasers. I believe that's been my secret to success, both in my Quidditch career and as a businessman." He sat in the armchair directly facing Tom and leaned forward. "Though I must admit, even with my forte in this area, I'm having a hard time figuring out your intentions."

Had there been some sort of odd misunderstanding between them? Things had been going so well, he thought. Exactly to plan.

"Excuse me, sir?"

Rosemary's father laughed; it had the pleasant, carefree quality of the way all wealthy people laughed. The way Rose laughed.

"You tell me. I've seen types like you before, the climbers. Those who lie their way to the top. I've hired many of them at my company and they always do well, but they don't have many friends. Probably because they quite often use their cut-throat manipulation to work their way up. Usually, they get there very quickly. So what exactly is it that you want? Was your plan to use my daughter's name to make connections in the wizarding world?"

For a moment, Tom had no choice but to sit there, completely dumbfounded as Basil reached into a wooden box on the coffee table between them and withdrew a cigar. "No," Tom finally began. "I think there's been some sort of mis-"

"Please, spare me. I very much dislike being lied to." He lit the cigar and sat back in his chair. "You weren't just raised a half-blood. You are one, aren't you?"

Tom swore his pulse stopped for a good ten seconds as the alarms in his mind commenced. He was so sure he had convinced her parents. What had possibly gone wrong?

He must have accepted the fact that Tom wasn't going to answer him, because he continued. "Oh, I've heard the name Riddle, alright. It took me a while to place it, but I remember now. You see, a few years ago I hired a man to work for my sales department. Well, he was absolutely penniless and a dreadful salesman at that, but do you know what I remember most about him? I would get complaint after complaint from every salesman that he got partnered up with because he wouldn't stop carrying on about his sister, the blood traitor that had married a man named Riddle. Tom Riddle. And I'm convinced that you, Tom Riddle, are their son."

A chill traveled down his spine. He was trying his best to stay calm, but he was in the midst of complete and utter panic. This was not the same man that he had spent a perfectly amicable dinner talking with. This man, who was staring at him with loathing, condemnatory eyes. Tom had a strong feeling that Rose had never seen this side to her father. There was no use trying to deny anything anymore. He knew what he knew.

"So, tell me, what is it that you want?"

"I don't want anything."

Basil chuckled slightly. "Only Rose? I find that hard to believe."

"Only Rose," he said hoarsely. While some of the other benefits to being a part of her family likely would have occurred to him later, he had only had one goal for the evening, and that was to gain her parents' approval.

"Look, Tom. You're a clever lad; that much is clear. I'd even consider hiring you to work for me. But my daughter will not be involved with a half-blood." He paused to take a puff of his cigar. "This is how it's going to go: you'll end things with Rose and someday you'll marry a perfectly nice half-blood or muggle-born witch. You will be the one to end things because the last thing Evelyn needs is her daughter screaming at her again. My wife has been through enough in the past few months because of Rose."

He could feel his temper rising to his cheeks. "And if I don't?"

"Then I'm sure you'll understand when I tell you that you're no longer welcome in my home."

Tom stood. "Well, thank you for dinner, sir." He briskly left the room and attempted to remember which way the front door was.

He started down the hallway and turned the corner, arriving in the foyer where Rose had greeted him earlier that evening, long before everything had gone to shit. She and Evelyn were standing there and both of them gave him a nearly identical, puzzled look.

Tom stopped walking and they all stared at each other for a moment.

"We were just about to come find you," Rose said. She was holding a tray, their four cocktails balancing precariously on top of it. She looked so entirely happy and he hated that he would be the one to ruin it.

He looked at her and then her mother and back again. They looked so much alike, with that striking bright red hair. His eyes rested on Rose's and it was clear that she instantly registered that something was wrong. "Tom?" Her voice was quiet and uneasy.

He turned on his heel, without saying a word to either of them, and walked out the front door. He hadn't closed the door behind him, so he heard the glasses shatter as she dropped the tray to the floor. "Tom!"

He didn't stop walking.

"What did you say to him?" she demanded. Apparently her father had entered the scene, but he couldn't be sure. The sounds from the house were growing fainter and fainter.

"Tom! Wait!" she screamed into the chilly spring air.

"Rosemary Alana Horton! Get back here this instant!" her father bellowed.

He refused to look back. He would Apparate as soon as he reached the end of their driveway. It was twenty meters away.

How had things been so flawless one moment and so rotten the next? He wished he could hate her parents, but he agreed with them. As much as he wanted to be with Rosemary, he couldn't exactly find fault with their wishes of wanting to marry her to a pureblood.

Rose caught up with him just as he was about to reach their front gate. She pulled his arm and turned him around. "Please, Tom. Please, don't go." She wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest.

He didn't return her touch. "That's not really an option right now." He glanced at their colossal home and saw that her father was still standing in the doorway. It was only a matter of time before he too started down the driveway. He wasn't afraid, but it would be pointless to stick around unless he could speak to Rosemary in private.

"What happened? I know we can't talk now, but come back later tonight," she pleaded, talking frantically. "My parents will be asleep. Just come to the backyard and I'll be waiting for you. I'll stand on my balcony. I'll sneak you into my room and we can talk about this."

He pulled away from her. "I can't do that, Rosemary." If her parents found them sneaking around in their home, it would only make things worse.

Tom looked down at her feet, which were entirely covered in mud. Apparently she had abandoned her shoes in order to catch up with him. He might have thought it was funny if they weren't in such a wretched state of affairs. When he glanced back up to her eyes, they were swimming with tears. It hurt to look so he averted his gaze.

It was then that he noticed her father was starting down the driveway toward them.

"Please," she whispered. "I can't lose you. You have to tell me what happened."

Tom knew he was running out of time as he kept glancing between her and her quickly approaching father. He also knew that he would be just as miserable as she was if they had to wait until they were back at Hogwarts to discuss the events of that evening. He would just have to take his chances.

"Midnight," he whispered, giving in to her desperate plea as he stepped away from her and Disapparated with a sharp crack.

"The course of true love never did run smooth." - William Shakespeare

This chapter was way too much fun to write. :D I hope you enjoyed it!

So, omg, we're officially at Chapter 20! It's going by so fast...but there's still SO MUCH to go! Thank you to I. Am. Thalote, I thought I was the only one, danceegirl92, Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack, and CharlotteBlackwood for their reviews.(:

Unfortunately, I probably won't be able to post again until Wednesday night. Exams and graduation are this week so things are a little crazy right now! Even so, reviews will keep me on track, writing as much as I possibly can.