The Grindylow Grove

December 31, 1944

Tom decided that spending his birthday on a tour of Wizarding Rome with the Tournament organizers was nothing short of ideal. Well it would have been perfectly ideal if Beaumont, the traitor, hadn't been there. But he could deal with it – at least for the time being.

For the most part he had simply been ignoring Raoul anyway, ever since he had seen Dumbledore and him looking so bloody chummy over a drink. He still didn't know why they were meeting, nor did he really care any longer. All that mattered was that he would never trust Raoul again and that he'd be moving on to a new sponsor as soon as his contract was up.

When he arrived back at the hotel that evening, he hopped into bed and picked up his copy of Secrets of the Darkest Art for a bit of light, pre-bedtime reading. The perfect end to a near-perfect day.

Until he heard a knock at his hotel room door. He groaned and put his book aside, crossed the room, and peered through the tiny glass hole that looked into the hall.

Raoul. The traitor.

He knocked again, impatiently. "Tom I know you're awake, we only just got back. Don't you want to go out and do something tonight? It's your birthday, after all."

Tom cracked the door open and said shortly: "I'm not all that interested. Thanks."

"Well, maybe you would be if you knew what I had in mind."

"I sincerely doubt that."

Tom was about to close the door when Raoul said: "Have you heard of The Grindylow Grove?"

"No," he said impatiently.

"I think you'd quite enjoy it…It's sort of a premier club – top government officials, executives, Tournament organizers – you have to be important to get in. And it just so happens that the owner owes me a favor or two. You'd have the opportunity to network with the crème de la crème…"

Amazingly enough, Tom was actually tempted. He supposed it would be foolish to pass up an opportunity such as this, even if it meant Raoul doing him a favor. But Tom didn't see it that way, of course: in his mind, he was merely exploiting Raoul's connections while he still had the chance.

They left soon after and they wound through a series of backstreets to another part of the city until finally, he stopped at a completely nondescript door on the corner of what appeared to be an apartment building.

He drew his wand and tapped the door handle nine times while chanting something in Italian that Tom didn't recognize. Finally about a minute or so later, the door swung open and then closed quickly behind them just after they stepped through. Inside, there was a long, dark hallway which they followed just halfway down, until Raoul stopped again and tapped the tip of his wand on a seemingly random stone three times.

And then they walked straight through the wall, just as Tom had done countless times to get to Platform 9 ¾.

Inside, the place was much larger than he had expected: three bars spread throughout the room, a stage where a woman dressed in a long black gown was singing softly with a jazzy accompaniment, and there were dozens of black leather couches and armchairs scattered throughout. Despite the size, it felt intimate; the haze of hundreds of cigarettes and cigars seemed to trap snippets of conversations, just waiting to be overheard.

Raoul steered him to the nearest bar, telling him who was who around the room. It took Tom only moments to decide: this was the sort of place he belonged, among the wizarding world's elite.

He split off from Raoul shortly after their trip to the bar and he worked his way around the room, striking up conversation after conversation. He was relieved to find that, at least for the most part, they spoke English. Before he knew it, two hours had passed and he had met three members of the Italian Wizengamot and the inventor of several potions, among several other influential people. While he would never admit it aloud (or even to himself, for that matter), he was glad that the sponsor had suggested visiting the place.

Later that evening, when Tom was satisfied that he had spoken to everyone of interest, he pulled up a seat at the bar and ordered his fourth drink of the evening. There was a map on the wall beside him and he found himself studying it while reveling in his networking prowess.

"Those are the other locations," Tom heard Raoul say as he pulled up a chair next to him at the bar. "There's one in London, though I've only been there once or twice…"

Tom made a mental note to add "Find London's Grindylow Grove" to his ever-lengthy to do list.

"Well, cheers and Happy Birthday, Tom. You have a bright future ahead of you…perhaps even more bright than you let on…"

Tom looked at him blankly, unsure of quite what he meant by it. Then:

"You're still seeing her, aren't you?" Raoul asked him suddenly.

Tom narrowed his eyes. "Who?"

"Why, Rosemary, of course! I saw her while I was at the Leaky Cauldron with Boren McFitch earlier this week…"

'Boren McFitch my arse,' Tom thought. 'Probably another rendezvous with your old pal Dumbledore.'

"She looked quite nervous when she passed through, as if she was going to go meet someone…and I'm assuming that was you."

He shook his head. Tom had no idea what she was up to, nor did he particularly care.

Beaumont tossed him a skeptical, half-amused look that made his blood boil. "I don't believe for a moment that the two of you are finished. If you want to keep it from her parents, fine, but just know that I'm on to you two." He winked and before Tom could respond, he stood and walked to the end of the bar, where a circle of women were hovering.

As Raoul chatted them up, Tom found himself staring down at his glass in disbelief of what Beaumont had just suggested and remembering the day Tom was in Diagon Alley last week:

"Jennings! Good to see you, mate," Raoul beamed as he let the trainer inside. "Did you have a Happy Christmas?"

"Mm," the trainer grunted in response. He was a man of remarkably few words, which was one of the primary reasons that Tom didn't mind working with him.

"Well, I'll let you and Tom get on with it then. Do tell Liza that I said hello."

This comment promptly earned Raoul a scowl from Jennings and Tom bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smirking. Based on the response, he wouldn't be surprised if Beaumont had said something inappropriate to Jennings' wife at some point.

The two of them left Raoul's house shortly after, heading into Diagon Alley to meet with Leviticus Fudge (the other Tournament competitor on Beaumont's team that Tom would be training with) for lunch and their first training session. If Tom hadn't essentially hand-picked Raoul's team himself, he might have been nervous to find out who he would be forced to work with so frequently…But this year there was no worry of being paired with a Mudblood-lover like Rookwood – Tom had weeded out every potential addition to the team that wasn't pureblood and either unmarried or married to another pureblood.

When they arrived at The Leaky Cauldron, Tom spotted Leviticus at a booth along the wall of the pub. He shook both of their hands when they joined him, introducing himself to Tom and vice versa.

As Tom said his name, Fudge smirked slightly and said, "I know. I was at the Tournament last year, after all…"

Oh, right. He was rather legendary.

"…It was such awful luck, the way your duel with Daalman turned out."

Tom stiffened, irritated by the fact that Fudge would have the gall to mention the duel that cost him a spot in the quarter-finals. The duel that was, in fact, Rosemary's fault. If she hadn't been at the Tournament – if they didn't have to watch every single bloody step they took in fear that her parents would find out – that unfortunate reporter never would have caught him off-guard and he never would have lost focus…

"Just wondering," Fudge continued. "I grew up down the street from these Muggles…the Riddle's. I believe they even had a son named Tom, around my age. I only just remembered when you said your name just a moment ago. Any relation?"

"No," Tom said sharply. He was relieved that Beaumont wasn't there to catch him in the lie, as he was one of the very, very few who knew who Tom's father was. What Beaumont didn't know, of course, was that Tom had killed him along with his filthy Muggle grandparents two summers ago.

He felt sick all of a sudden, knowing that the name of his pathetic, dead father would continue to follow him for the rest of his goddamn life. But he couldn't just change it so easily either, not with all the prestige he had attained for it following his numerous accomplishments…

As he lost himself in thought, he withdrew from Jennings' and Fudge's discussion of impressive duels at the previous year's Tournament, glancing out the window next to the booth.

Tom recognized her dark red hair immediately. It drew a striking contrast to her expensive-looking bright white coat, her pale skin, and the snow through which she was walking. But she wasn't walking alone – his stomach twisted uncontrollably when he saw Cramer striding along beside her.

But why should this come at a surprise? He was used to seeing them together all the time at Hogwarts as part of her constant charade. Though he had been suspicious from time to time that she and Warren had turned into more after their split, seeing them together told him that this just wasn't the case. He could sense her boredom by just looking at them.

Things hadn't changed at all. Not that he cared, of course. Tom just couldn't help but wonder if she ever grew tired of it – living that same lie every single day. In a way he rather pitied Warren – did he actually think he ever had a chance with her? When would he see that he was just wasting his time – that Rosemary was only using him and that they would never actually become more? It was all so very pathetic.

But then Tom watched Cramer lean down and kiss her.

He suddenly felt as though he was watching some sort of gruesome, awful accident: he wanted to look away but couldn't and time seemed to slow to a near-standstill. Conscious, rational thought seemed to disappear from his mind, leaving only impulse. All he wanted was for it to stop.

Tom blinked and suddenly the branch above them on a nearby tree snapped and dumped all of its snow directly onto Cramer. It took him a moment to realize that he had, in fact, caused it –now that they had stopped kissing, his mind was beginning to work again.

Apparently, he had been mistaken. Very mistaken.

Apparently, Horton and Cramer were together – actually together. He told himself that it didn't matter; that he was much happier and far more productive without her. After all, there had always been the possibility in the back of his mind that this would happen (or that it had already happened without his knowledge). Even so, knowing for certain felt very differently…

Apparently, she had had feelings for Cramer all along, just as Tom had originally suspected. She had been lying to him the entire time which meant, of course, that everything that had ever been between them meant absolutely nothing.

Meanwhile, Cramer had recovered and he and Rosemary were laughing happily, literally fucking frolicking in the snow.

He gritted his teeth. "Whore," he thought.

And that was the moment in which Rosemary Horton became dead to him.

Tom downed the rest of his scotch and promptly ordered another, despite the fact that he was feeling a considerable buzz already. Then he stood and took his topped-off glass with him to the end of the bar where Raoul stood.

Tom would show him just how over he and Horton truly were.

It occurred to him that he had never picked up a woman in a bar before (or really anywhere, considering things with Rosemary just sort of happened), but he was far too arrogant to feel at all nervous. As he strode over to them, he made eye contact with the one he supposed he found most attractive and tossed her a small smirk. It was time to don his most charming mask.

"Raoul, won't you introduce me to your friends? No need to be a brute."

The ladies giggled and Beaumont gave him a look of half-shock, half-confusion. But he recovered quickly, listing off the four girls' names. Tom paid little attention except to the last – Regina, the one with jet-black hair to his left with whom he had made eye contact with initially.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all," he said charmingly. "My name is Tom Riddle." As he said it aloud for the first time since his meeting with Leviticus Fudge, he felt an awful, almost visceral reaction. It would stop bothering him eventually, he told himself. It was just fresh in his mind, was all.

This was alleviated at least somewhat when one of them said: "The Tom Riddle? From the Dueling Tournament?"

He smirked and nodded. A barrage of comments followed:

"I was a fan of yours beginning at your very first duel!"

"You're brilliant, absolutely brilliant."

"Will you sign this for me?" One of them held up a cocktail napkin.

Raoul must have been envious from all of the attention Tom was getting because he said suddenly: "Well, what can I say? I saw the potential I suppose. I mean, I had to spend my money on someone…"

"You're a sponsor?" The girl's eyes widened.

Suddenly the attention was shifted back to Raoul. It annoyed Tom at first, but he didn't mind so much when he felt Regina's dark brown eyes still resting on him. He only needed one of them to prove his point, after all.

He turned toward her as she was finishing her drink, which was good timing as he would have been unsure of quite what to say otherwise. "Could I get you another?" he asked.

"If you get another," she said, looking pointedly at his half-finished scotch.

"Fair enough." He smirked and downed it, though seeing as he could hardly feel his teeth it probably wasn't the best idea. "What would you like?" he asked her, while flagging over the bartender.

"Just a gin and tonic would be lovely."

He froze upon hearing this request for Rosemary Horton's go-to beverage.

A confused look spread across her face. "What?"

He realized that his reaction hadn't been purely internal and that he was looking at her in a slightly-disgusted manner. "I don't care much for gin," he said quickly before speaking briefly with the bartender to order their drinks.

She laughed. "Well it's not as though you're the one who has to drink it."

"True." He handed her the drink.

"Thank you," she smiled. "So what was being in the Tournament like? It must have been absolutely fascinating."

"It was," Tom smirked and ran a hand through his dark hair. "Why don't we take a seat over there and I'll tell you all about it." He gestured to an empty black leather loveseat against the wall.

"Sure," she smiled.

They sat and he talked. About the Tournament, mostly. He didn't ask her anything about herself primarily because he didn't care – the fact that she had gotten in to the club in the first place told him as much as he needed to know.

Tom was too drunk to know how it happened, but suddenly they were kissing and she was on his lap. The kiss felt foreign and awkward, but perhaps that was simply the way all first-kisses felt. He supposed he wasn't the best authority on the matter considering that his only prior experience had been Rosemary.

And there it was again, burned into the back of his mind: the image of Cramer and her snogging on the side of the street. Desperate prove that he no longer cared, not only to Raoul but to himself as well, he kissed the girl harder, pulling her onto his lap and drowning his thoughts in pure sensation.

"Let's go, Don Juan." Before Tom could even realize what was happening, Raoul had essentially dragged him out of The Grindylow Grove by his shirt collar.

When Tom did realize what had happened, he smirked: "What's your problem? Jealous that you weren't getting any?"

"You made your point. About Rose." Beaumont glared at him. "I thought it was best that we left before things got…out of hand."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Raoul laughed. "You're completely sloshed. Someone has to save you from yourself…"

"Save me from myself? Who in the hell do you think you are?" Tom spat as he turned and began to walk in the direction of the hotel.

Raoul caught up to him quickly, matching his long strides. "I don't know what's gotten into you. Sneaking out of Hogwarts, jeopardizing your Head Boy title and now this? It's her, it has to be. But you're far too immature to admit it."

"If you truly believe that, then you clearly don't know a goddamn thing about me. I don't need her. Or you, for that matter." He ducked into an empty alleyway in hopes of finding a shorter route back to the hotel. The less time he had to spend dealing with Raoul, the better.

"Oh, really?" Raoul's voice grew louder. "Have you forgotten why you're here? Have you forgotten why you have a place in the Tournament?"

"It's not as though another sponsor wouldn't have signed me," Tom sneered. "And, do you know what? I'm starting to think that a different sponsor wouldn't be such a bad idea. Might be rather nice to work with someone I could actually trust."

"Have you gone completely mental? What in the bloody hell are you even talking about?"

"Like you haven't a clue," Tom said sarcastically. Then, before he could stop himself (though he was far too past the point of soberness that would make him even remotely consider stopping himself anyway) he snapped: "Why don't you ask your old pal Dumbledore?"

Beaumont abruptly stopped in his tracks from the surprise and Tom turned to face him. "That's right; I know you weren't with your Dueling mate and his family on Christmas. You only asked me along because you knew I'd say no and you could cover your tracks. Didn't you? Anyway, it doesn't matter. I have no desire to work with anyone who has anything to do with that old fool." Tom was practically spitting with anger at this point.

A few seconds of silence passed, in which Raoul looked surprisingly calm. Then he finally said: "I apologize, but I had to keep you out of it…I couldn't just jeopardize the entire plan by telling you."

"What plan?" Tom rolled his eyes. Why should he believe anything the sponsor said?

He put his hands in his pockets. "I'm afraid that I can't reveal much, even now. Professor Dumbledore had a piece of information that I needed and the way that I went about obtaining that information was potentially…volatile. I couldn't chance you doing something stupid and getting in the way."

Tom was in no mood to decode riddles. He just wanted answers. "What information?" he demanded. "It has something to do with this MAGI business, doesn't it?"

Well, that certainly caught Beaumont off-guard. "Keep your voice down!" he said suddenly, looking around the deserted alley like a madman.

Tom smirked as he enjoyed the satisfying realization that he had stumbled upon something he wasn't supposed to know.

"Did Rosemary tell you?"

Then it was Tom's turn to be caught off guard. "What? No."

What exactly had she kept from him? Since when did she keep secrets for Raoul? But then again, she was a liar as recent events had proven. He shouldn't have been so surprised.

Raoul smiled. "I knew she wouldn't. She's far too good of a person. I still think you're an idiot, you know."

Another conversation about Rosemary with Raoul (or anyone else for that matter), was literally the last thing that he wanted. "You date her then." Tom snarled.

Raoul looked pensive for a moment. "You know, maybe I will…" Tom gave him a disgusted look. "I'm joking, of course." He laughed.

"Of course. I couldn't care less either way." It was becoming apparent that Raoul was merely attempting to distract him, so he pushed the conversation back into the direction of interest: "So what was the information you needed from Dumbledore? And what does it have to do with MAGI?" Tom couldn't even say his name without a twinge of disgust in his tone.

"It's completely irrelevant to you. The less you know, the better."

It was a statement which, predictably, only fed Tom's desire to know more. "Well, how did you get that old fool to tell you, then? Did you tell him something he might want to know? Perhaps how I've been getting out of the school for trainings…?" Tom glared at him threateningly.

"No, nothing like that."

"A threat, then?" Tom watched Beaumont's face carefully. "Blackmail...?" The sponsor remained expressionless, but Tom had a feeling of intuitive confidence that told him he had guessed correctly. Which was useful, as he didn't exactly trust himself to attempt Legilimency in a drunken state. "Yes…Blackmail." Tom's face twisted into a sinister smirk.

"I'm not telling you anything more," Raoul said resolutely. "Clearly I've already said more than enough."

"Well," Tom started in an equally resolute, but slightly threatening tone. "I suppose I'll just have to find out myself, then."

"After all, we are nothing more or less than we choose to reveal." – Beau Willimon

Thank you to those of you who reviewed last chapter: x2leoj, A regrettable decision, RosiePosie15, and Guest! Your ongoing support is appreciated far beyond what words can express.(: A big thank you as well to all of those that have followed/favorited the story!

Oh, and just a quick note - I'm definitely planning on elaborating more about Tom's time in Rome with the Tournament organizers. This will be appearing shortly in the story, likely Chapter 56. So if you're more into Tom's backstory and not so much the romantic plot-line, stay tuned for that!(:

If you have a moment to spare, please consider leaving a review below!