Tom Riddle (crash_and_burn_) wrote in deletrius_rpg,
Tom Riddle
crash_and_burn_
deletrius_rpg

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Settling comfortably in his favorite shadowy armchair, Augustus smirked to himself. Everything with Lida Spore had gone quite well, really -- she even seemed rather eager for another snog. He tipped his hat lower, shrouding his features in shadow as he resumed his favorite activity, besides seducing innocent girls: brooding.

Tom looked up from his book. He had been taking notes, crossing off places on a map of the school, trying to find that chamber. He was so close, but so far away. He quickly snapped his book shut, "hello Rookwood."


Augustus did not react physically, though his hooded eyes darted up to settle on the lanky Head Boy. "Evening, Riddle," replied the other Slytherin quietly. "Scribbling away in your little black book again, eh?"

Tom rolled his eyes, "people these days," he muttered under his breath. "No Rookwood. It's called homework. Some of us do it sometimes. It helps one to pass school."

"For the record, Tom, I'm not failing," notes Augustus, smirking slightly. "And I recognize suspicious behavior when I see it -- though I'm wise enough to not implore."

"Everyone is so accusing lately. Even if I am doing something.... out of the ordinary does it really matter." He slipped his map into the book so he wouldn't loose it. "Planning on turning me in?"

"Oi, mate -- do I look like a Lestrange?" snorted Augustus, his fingers tapping the armrests slowly. "I'm a Rookwood, Riddle. That should mean something, by now -- it has been seven years, after all."

Tom nodded, "course it does. But you know people these days. But your right, you're not a Lestrange."

"Thank Salazar," Augustus replied with a smirk. "That Rowland is quite a pouf -- though did you hear? Word is the bloke fancies Goshawk."

Tom raised an eyebrow, "oh really? Well, that's.... interesting. A bit insulting, but still. Blech."

Augustus smirked, finally tipping back his hat to show a rather self-satisfied expression. "Isn't it? Oi. Nevertheless, it's no bloody concern of mine... How's your girl? What's her name? Catriona...?"

"Catriona..... still torn up about her father. It's been three years now. Honestly it's getting a bit ridiculous. He's dead, people die, she just needs to get over it."

Augustus snorted in response. "Oi, honestly." He shrugged. "Oh well -- I'm sure she's one helluva snog."

"That she is. Why the hell else would I stick around? She brings all this... emotional baggage. And I swear any day now she's going to start talking about things like marriage."

Raising a brow in question, Augustus made a rude snort. "You should just drop the broad -- there are plenty of other good snogs. With less issues."

Tom shook his head, "no. Can't do that. She'll do. Any everything is about appearances. I can't go around with just anyone."

"There's bound to be someone worth wrapping your arm around in public," Rookwood pointed out, glancing across the common room for inspiration. "Parkinson?"

Tom shook his head and grimaced, "nope, hideous. Cationa will do fine, for now. But post graduation she'll have to go."

Augustus was silent for a moment. "Well. Whatever keeps you warm at night, Riddle." He grinned, settling back again. "So what's going on lately with you?"

"I've been busy. Very busy. Working really." He stated rather ambiguously,

"You've always been one for specifics, Tom," remarked Augustus dryly. "More anti-Muggle plotting?"

Tom looked suspiciously around the room and decided that no one there was possibly listening in, "Yes, you could definetly say that. But then I almost always seem to be antimuggle plotting. "

Augustus cared little for caution -- his hooded gaze had already told him their conversation would be secure. "You have been for six years, why stop now?" Augustus smirked, nodding slightly.

"I'm not stopping. In fact. I'm almost there." He reopened his book and started making more notes in the margins and writing things down on the map.

Augustus made no move to peer at the book, keeping his gaze respectfully level on Tom. "Oh? Care to elaborate with an old war mate?"

"I'm looking for something," he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It's a room, perhaps you've heard of it."

"Depends if it has a name," Augustus returned, patient.

Tom scribbled down another note in the margins and crossed off yet another room, "it does. The chamber of secrets."

Augustus was silent for a moment. "... Salazar's Lost Room?" the other Slytherin queried at length, voice even.

Tom nodded absentmindedly and scratched off yet another room, he was really making progress. A lot of progress. "Yes, that's the one."

Augustus now glanced at Tom's map. "Cross off those seven rooms on the fourth floor, just near the boys' baths, Tom -- they're all empty, trust me." One of my favorite brooding holes.

Tom looked up at him, mild shook showing on his face. He nodded and crossed off the rooms. "Thanks," he muttered.

Augustus settled back again. "You've got some faith, Riddle. Even the Headmaster doesn't think the chamber exists."

"Dippet's a mindless idiot, he'll believe whatever everyone else thinks is common knowledge."

Augustus nodded in agreement. "Even so. I doubt even that fool Dumbledore knows its location, either."

"I doubt he does. Considering only the heir of Slythern can open it. And heir of Slytherin Dumbledore is not."

"Are you so brass as to say you -- " Augustus fell silent. "Aha."

Tom shot him a look, "Aha what exactly?"

Augustus' features were a mask of shadows. "I've known you for almost ten years, Riddle -- and you never once told me you thought you might be..." Pointed pause -- dark gaze flicking across the common room. "... the heir."

Tom sat up straighter in his chair and twirled his quill between long pale fingers, "it's not something that comes up in regular conversation." He paused and thought for a few seconds. "And for that matter, it really was no ones business but mine, and like I'd say something like that without doing the proper research."

"So what happens when you actually... enter the chamber, precisely?" asked Augustus at length, eyeing Tom more closely now.

"I wouldn't know," he flipped through the book and crossed off another room, "there are no records of it ever being opened before."

Tapping the armrests lightly, Augustus nodded slowly. "Right." Oi.

Tom muttered to himself and flipped through the book even further, "and, not to mention that it doesn't say anywhere what's inside it. Just that it's a monster. You'd think people could be a bit more specific."

"Oh yes -- a monster that will purge the populus and make it pure... or something like that," Augustus smirked. "Caution, though, Riddle... you'll need a scapegoat."

Tom rather furiously crossed off yet another room. Who thought Hogwarts had so many, "I've thought of that yes. And when have you known me not to be careful."

Augustus let that question fall as rhetorical. "... Classroom 384 is empty too." Mhm.

Tom nodded and crossed off yet another room, "I'm not even going to ask how you know all of this."

"That's very wise of you," intoned Augustus, now tracing the green velvet armrests. "Although I certainly support your sense of duty, Riddle, I would be disappointed if the monster started limiting my supply of cute, innocent girls..."

Tom shook his head, "Rookwood, you can always find new girls."

"Ah, but it's the cute and innocent ones that are the most entertaining," noted Augustus. "And if I lose my entire stockpile, I will be very much upset with you."

"I'm glad to see that you have that much faith in me. Thinking that I'd be that successful." Tom stated while scratching off a few of the dungeons.

"You're the only one so... obscenely dedicated to perform such a... ludicrous task," Augustus shrugged, gaze flicking up to a Third Year who had dared to think maybe the two Seventh Years would share the fire's warmth. The Third Year immediately turned and retreated from Augustus' shadowed gaze. Fear the Broody One.

"I wouldn't call it obscenely dedicated, nor would I call the task ludicrous. I've got a goal and I know what I've got to do to get it. It's very simple."

Augustus raised a brow. "... agreed," the Slytherin said at length. Nutters, really. Sometimes I wonder.

"Good to know." He once again went back to his map. Damnit, this was getting frustrating. In a brief burst of anger her flung his quill at one of the younger members of the house and watched as it bounced off her head.

"Hey now, Riddle! You haven't even opened the bloody chamber, and you're already trying to kill off my stock!" Augustus scowled, eyeing the younger girl. "Bad form, Tom. Bad, indeed." Hmph.

Tom rolled his eyes, "honestly Rookwood. It didn't hurt her did it. And keep it down. I don't want the entire common room to know what's going on."

Augustus snorted. "Bah." was his only reply, as he settled down again to broodily watch Tom.

"Honestly Rookwood, sometimes you frighten me." He stated with all seriousness.

"As I should," Augustus quipped. "You should fear me." He grinned crookedly from beneath the shadow of his cowboy hat.

"Not that kind of fear. Sometimes I wonder if all the brooding you do is actually good for you."

Augustus snorted. "Brooding is a delicate art, Riddle. Those who have mastered the art are often misunderstood." And underestimated. Some nyah.

"Misunderstood is one way of putting it," Tom muttered under his breath.

For one so articulate, you certainly mumble too much," Augustus smirked.

Tom looked up and shook his head, "honestly, sometimes I wonder about you."

"And you repeat yourself," Augustus pointed out, waving one finger slowly. Ah, the life of lazy Slytherins and their pointless conversations.

"Well yes, I am prone to doing that." He put his book away for the day most likely and twirled his quill between his fingers, "but when I'm not repeating myself. I'm saying something immensly importnat.

Augustus rolled his eyes, coolly ignoring the repeated glances in his direction from a young Fifth Year who had recently been snogged in Classroom 384. "Sometimes I wonder about -you-, Riddle. So egocentric, sometimes."

"Sometimes? Well that's an improvment. I've been told that I'm egocentric all the time," Tom said while smirking.

"Who told you that? The oh-so lovely broad you're stringing along?"

Tom shook his head, "no, my least favorite Head Girl, McGonagall."

"Ahh... Minerva," Augustus mused, tapping the armrests. "That would be quite a challenge for one of my talents..."

"My god Rookwood, don't."

Augustus grinned lopsidedly, now dragging his fingertips across the velvet like claws. "Hmmm... Imagine what would happen if McGonagall lost control?"

"The world would suddenly combust unto itself before bursting into a million pieces," Tom stated in all seriousness.

"Oi -- I'm surprised you have so much bloody faith in the broad," Augustus grumbled. We'll see. Maybe when I'm done with Lida...

"Trust me. The girl is like a rock."

"A rock with hips, lips, and a chest like every other female," noted Augustus.

"Still, it's Minerva. You can't be serious."

"It's the orderly ones that are the most fun to corrupt."

"But stiil, it's McGonagall, she's like frigid or something."

Augustus grinned, raising the brim of his hat slightly. "All the more reason to make the Ice Queen melt."

Tom shook his head and sighed, "you're hopeless."

Augustus threw a mock salute. "Once I finish with my current projects, I may give the old bird a try." If there's one thing Augustus is confident about, besides his amazing brooding ability, it's his ability to seduce. Even if it landed him in detention the next morning.

"Well then best of luck to you. I hope you come out alive." He said with all seriousness. "And if not we'll give you a very nice funeral."

"How kind of you," replied Augustus. "You're paying for the casket too. I expect... ebony finish, and a velvet interior."

“Ok then, and where do you want to be buried?”

“Westiminister Abbey,” he said sagely.

“I’ll see if I can handle that, and if not. Well I’ll think of something.”

“You could preserve me in amber and put me on display in your living room.”

“You’d scare away all of my guests,” he said quickly.

“I doubt that. You’d have all the girls lined up at your door. You’d be the most popular man in Britain. And you could charge admission”

“Oh great,” Tom muttered.

“Not to mention, you could tell the muggles that you’ve got the most sexy man in Europe and when they get there you could kill them on your doorstep.”

Tom smiled at this thought, that was perfectly marvelous. “Oh really.” He was taking that to seriously, way to seriously.

He didn’t even bother to point out that he was actually kidding regarding his suggestion. Instead he checked his watch and stood up, “well it’s been fun riddle, but I really must be going.”

“Yes, it has. Going off to corrupt more innocents?”

He pulled on his trenchcoat and flipped up the back collar, “why yes. Oh and cross off rooms 783, 564, and 280.”

Tom nodded his thanks and watched him walk off.
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