"Mr. Burke? I'm leaving for the evening," Tom called out over his shoulder, not bothering to stay and see if the older man responded to him. The dark-haired young man found working at the shop to be annoying, but necessary, as it gave him access to all sorts of things a typical wizard would not be able to find.

Stepping out into Knockturn Alley, he cursed to himself when he realized that the persistent drizzle of earlier in the afternoon had changed into a downpour. Using his wand, he knew that it was nothing that a little charms work couldn't help with. One impervious charm later, he was able to walk down the street without disturbing his impeccable facade - robes perfectly tailored and not a coiffed hair out of place.

It was a short walk through the cobbled alleyway to Bottle & Glass, a little pub tucked away from the hustle and bustle. It was one that Tom enjoyed frequenting, knowing that he was unlikely to be disturbed there by anyone whom he didn't wish to cross paths with, not unlike the Hog's Head back in Hogsmeade. But, Bottle & Glass had the benefit of being near enough to the Ministry of Magic that his acquaintances would frequently make the short walk over to the pub. Tom could conduct his business there easily and without being noted.

It suited him.

He selected a seat at the bar, and waved the barman over with a flick of his wrist. In a moment, Tom was passed a glass of firewhiskey. He took a sizable drink, before allowing himself to sigh, showing his frustration for a moment. Letting his head hang down, he wondered to himself - and not for the first time - why in Merlin's name he continued to work at Borgin & Burkes. Thinking things through, he reminded himself of all the benefits of being a handsome, charming man who worked to collect magical artifacts for someone as unscrupulous as Mr. Burke. He was so close to finding what he needed, most specifically a locket that had belonged to Salazar Slytherin himself.

The locket was meant to be his, if only his stupid mother hadn't sold it off, and he was going to get it back, no matter what it would take.

Someone slipped into the seat beside him and Tom could tell that it was Rosier before he even looked. "Get me and my friend another firewhiskey," Rosier drawled in that arrogant tone of voice that only the scion of a sacred pureblood family could have.

Tom took the offered whiskey gladly, before tilting his glass in Evan's direction. "Rosier, good to see you," he lied, for once wishing that he had been left alone.

"Don't sound too thrilled," Evan teased back, sensing from Tom's tone of voice that he was less than pleased. "Tough day at work?" he pressed.

Pressing his hand to his forehead so that he could massage his temples, Tom nodded. "It can be...grating, sometimes, to deal with people," he explained. It was an issue that he had in all areas of his life, having to play nice with imbeciles, who had less magical talent than he had in his pinky finger. He reminded himself that one day, they would all recognize him for who he really was.

"You know, we still don't understand why you work at Borgin and Burke's," Evan said, letting his voice drop an octave. "I mean, don't you think your particular...talents would be better put to use at the Ministry."

Tom smiled at his friend. "In due time, but there is something unfinished I must handle first," he answered, fiddling with the Gaunt Ring he wore. Of course, all of his Knights knew of his ambitions regarding the Wizarding world, but he would not make them privy to his plans to cheat death. No one knew about his two horcruxes, and he intended to keep it that way.

"Well, at least it's the weekend," Evan said, cheerfully. It was times like these that Tom detested his followers, annoyed with how simplistic their lives were. How Evan could be pleased with something as banal as the weekend made Tom question him. "Say, I'm going on a date tonight with Mercedes. How about I see if she has a friend and we make it a double date? I bet Lucretia would be game."

Tom snorted in surprise. "And does Edmund know that you are taking his sister on a date?" he questioned, imagining the fuss that Edmund Lestrange would kick up at the idea of Evan putting his hands on his sister. The Rosier heir was known to be a bit of a womanizer.

"Fuck if I care," Evan said with bravado. "I can take him. Besides, it was her that asked me on the date, saucy minx."

Tom took a drink and made a noise of agreement. Being really quite pretty, Mercedes was used to getting what she wanted. "Well, where are you going?" he questioned, thinking that it might be nice to have one night out on the town, and Lucretia Black was as good of company as anyone.

"Don't laugh, but we are going to see this muggle bird who calls herself a seer," Evan said, his voicing dropping lower to share a secret. "She's got a place not far from the entrance to Diagon Alley in London."

Turning, Tom looked at his friend with a mixture of concern and anger. "Really, Evan? Consorting with muggles now?" he asked with a sneer, thinking that there was rather a hundred things he'd rather do than go back into Muggle London, even if it meant he might get a handjob at the end of the night.

Evan put his hands up to quell Tom's sudden anger. "Listen, she's supposed to be the real deal," he said, running his hands through his light brown hair. "I wouldn't have even considered it, but Druella swears by the girl."

That particular tidbit did get Tom's attention. By all measures, Druella was the epitome of a well-bred pureblood girl. If Evan's sister was going to this muggle seer, there must be more to her than what she claimed she was. "Explain," he demanded, simply, his curiosity piqued.

"She bumped into Dru about two years ago and well...she told Druella that she was going to have another girl," Evan explained, remembering the birth of his niece Andromeda not that long ago.

"Fifty-fifty chance," Tom dismissed, thinking that it didn't sound that impressive.

"Sure, but then the bint started asking Dru about how Bellatrix was. Even you have to admit that's unusual. It's not as if Bellatrix is a name that you'd pull out of the air," Evan explained, his drink forgotten on the bar as he described the rest of the story. "Druella kept going back and the seer predicted little Narcissa's birthday down to the day, not to mention telling her that it was another girl. Cygnus was quite put out with that, you know?"

Tom steepled his fingers together, thinking over Evan's words. Guessing the gender of a child was not too unusual, but to predict a birth date was far more unusual. Initially, he would have guessed that this so-called seer was little more than an untrained legilimens, but hearing the story, that did not seem to be the case. Was it possible that this muggle woman might have the true talent? It was possible that she was simply a muggleborn who had fallen through the cracks.

"You think she's the real deal?" he asked, feeling skeptical. The probability of it, that there was some unknown muggleborn living out there, who had significant enough abilities to call herself a seer, enough to hoodwink a real witch were low.

Evan laughed, shrugging his shoulders. "As if I bloody well know. Perhaps she's just good at reading people," he answered. "But, I do know that witches love the idea of hearing what the future has in store for them - love, marriage, babies. Even if it doesn't come true, they're more than up for a kiss and cuddle, hearing that everything is going to be squared away in the future."

Tom rolled his eyes before taking another drink of his firewhiskey. Here he'd thought that Evan might have stumbled on something a bit more promising. Leave it to him to be more concerned with just chasing some tail. "I'll pass," he said, firmly.

"Oh come on, Tom," Evan complained, looking at his friend with a concerned face. "You're too serious. When was the last time that you had a little bit of fun? Just because we've graduated Hogwarts doesn't mean we have to be boring."

"I'm sure you'll have enough fun for the both of us," Tom answered snidely, sometimes hating the playboy lifestyle that some of his yearmates had, owing to their fathers' positions in life. He had ambition and plans and he didn't have the time or the money to slack off and take witches out for a night on the town. "I'm quite busy with my work-"

"It's one night, Tom," Evan scolded, completely ignoring his friend's dour mood. "Don't make me take two witches out tonight all by myself. We can always laugh about how ridiculous the seer is when we're gone."

Gritting his teeth together, Tom could tell that Evan wasn't just going to let this one go. Sighing, he finished his drink, before pulling out the necessary sickles to leave for the bartender. He was going to have to get ready if he was actually going to go along with this idea. "Fine, one night," he agreed, before standing up to leave.

Evan clapped him on the shoulder, a pleased look on his face. "Excellent - we'll meet you at the entrance to Diagon Alley at nine o'clock," he instructed. "I'll bring some of that champagne from my great-Aunt's vineyard."

br

Tom could hear the giggling from around the corner, and he sneered to himself, wondering just what had possessed him to agree to go with. Evan had an arm around Mercedes and the other woman. Lucretia must have been busy, he thought to himself, amused.

Eugenie Bole was a major step down, but he figured he couldn't back out now. Briefly, he wondered if Evan had told her who her date was going to be, remembering how cruel the Ravenclaw girl had been to him when she'd found out he lived at an orphanage.

When her pale blue eyes caught his, though, she gave him a breathless little smile. "Tom," she greeted, before weaseling her way out from under Evan's arm. She tucked her hand into his arm. "It's so good to see you again."

Apparently it doesn't matter now, Tom thought bitterly to himself.

The trio was obviously already tipsy, and Tom wondered just how much of the champagne had already been imbibed. Ignoring Eugenie's pretty words, he looked expectantly at his friend. "Shall we? I don't want to stand here all night," he asked, not bothering to disguise his displeasure at the situation.

Evan nodded with a grin, before guiding them into muggle London. It was a short walk - just a few blocks away - but the two witches were tittering away as if they might be attacked by a muggle at any moment, drawing more attention to themselves than they warranted. But then again, Tom knew that that was precisely the point to witches like Mercedes and Eugenie.

When they arrived at the storefront, Tom nearly walked right past it. There was nothing more to mark the hidden entrance except for a small green sign advertising 'Hermione's Tea Room', in faded gold lettering. Looking around, it seemed that the tea room was located on the second floor of the building, judging by the soft glow coming from the windows that he could see.

"Oh, Evan, I'm so nervous," Mercedes giggled, resting her head on his shoulder, her fingers holding onto his bicep tight in a claw like grasp.

Evan smiled at her magnanimously. "Don't worry, sweetheart," he cooed, obviously loving being so needed by the admittedly pretty girl. "She's just a muggle. It's not as if she can do anything to us. We have real magic."

Eugenie looked up at Tom, batting her pretty blue eyes at him, apparently wanting some sort of consolation from him. She would find no comfort in his arms, he thought with contempt. "Shall we go inside?" he asked, finally, feeling odd standing out on the pavement for longer than necessary. The leaves shook like rattling bones on the trees in an eerie wind that was making his hair stand on end.

Nodding, Evan lead the way up the creaking staircase until they reached the second floor apartment. The door jingled when they opened the door, leading into a small sitting area. The walls were draped with patterned fabrics in all assortments of colors. A small fire was giving a bit of warmth to the flat. The room was dominated by large table, covered in candles of varying lengths. A crystal ball sat in the middle.

Tom barely stopped himself from snorting in derision at the sight.

A voice called from down the hallway. "Make yourselves comfortable, I'll be out in a minute," the woman, Hermione presumably, said breezily.

Evan was only too happy to make himself at home, conjuring a few coupe glasses before opening one of the bottles of champagne. The loud pop had the two witches laughing in delight, holding out their glasses eagerly, waiting for them to be filled. Tom took a glass himself, wondering if he'd need a bit of alcohol to get through the night. This was likely to be an utterly depressing night, when the muggle turned out to be a fraud.

Or, some contrary voice in his head argued, he might have stumbled onto a seer of real value.

The woman who came into the room did not match the surroundings of the tea room. Tom had expected a long flowing dress with jingling bells and a headscarf, perhaps either having some Romani blood or pretending to. Instead, he found the slight woman wearing a belted dress to be the exact opposite of what he was expecting. She was wholly unremarkable, save her wildly bushy brown hair, which looked as if she'd stuck her head out the window all afternoon.

When her brown eyes settled on him, she stilled for a nearly imperceptible moment, and Tom could feel his magic buzzing underneath his skin.

She drew her mouth into a tight smile. Hermione wore a dark plum shade of lipstick which was completely unforgiving with her pale complexion. "I've been waiting for you to arrive," she said simply, before settling herself into the chair opposite.

Evan always the gentleman apologized. "Would you like some champagne? If you have an extra glass, we'd be happy to share with you," he offered, already working on the cork of the second bottle.

Hermione shook her head, before reaching underneath the tablecloth and pulling up a bottle of red wine. "I have my own, thank you," she answered, before pouring herself a healthy glass. Her lips pulled back over her perfectly white teeth. "Now, I understand that you would like your fortunes told."

The two women agreed eagerly. "You simply must tell me who I am going to marry," Mercedes said, her fingers tightening around Evan once again.

"And tell me how many children that I will have," Eugenie added.

"My sister has spoken your praises, Miss Granger," Evan said smoothly, hoping to disarm the muggle with his smile. "I must admit that we are all eager to hear what you think is in store for us."

Hermione smiled, her eyes flickering back and forth between the four occupants of her tea room. "Well, you've certainly come to the right place. I can tell you your future, even though you might not want to hear what is in store for you," she said, with a self-righteous glint in her eye. When she settled on Tom once again her smile transformed into something slightly sinister. "I must say, Tom Riddle, I have been waiting for the day that you would walk into my tea room."

Tom could feel his eyes widen when she said his name, wondering if Evan had mentioned he would be coming along when he made the appointment. He looked over to his friend, only to see a similar look of bewilderment on Evan's face. "If you're a seer, didn't you know that I would be coming today?" he questioned, narrowing his eyes.

"Oh, I saw you coming to me, that is certain, but the date was not known to me," Hermione answered, cryptically. Pressing her hands together, her heavy gaze returned to the two women. "Now, who would like to go first?"

Mercedes volunteered, being far more brave than the tittering Eugenie. Hermione reached for the woman's hand, before holding it in hers, delicate fingers tracing along the lines that she found there. "You want to know when you will get married?" the seer questioned softly. "Then know that it is just around the corner. Have your fun now while you still can. You will be married before the next year ends."

Tom wasn't even sure if she realized it, but Mercedes had inched to the edge of her seat, lapping up every word that she wanted to hear. Her eyes flickered over to Evan. "And, do you know who my husband will be?" Mercedes asked, her voice quivering in anticipation.

Hermione laughed. "No, it will not be Evan Rosier," she said, answering a question that Mercedes didn't even realize that she had asked. "You should trust in your brother's judgement to select a husband for you. He will not be kind, but he will look after you all the same." Breezing past the uncomfortable air that had settled around the table, Hermione offered over the deck of cards in her hands. "Tarot?" she asked, cheerfully.

Mercedes nodded glumly, suddenly not so enthused by her future. "Of course," she agreed, before cutting the deck. Tom could barely find it in himself to pay attention to the cards that were turned before the other woman, banal omens about dying dreams, fears of the future, and challenges ahead.

When she was done with her reading, Mercedes happily down the rest of the champagne in her cup, before passing it off to Evan for a refill. "Oh, Eugenie, you should go next!" she said, perhaps hoping to pull the other girl into the same kind of terrible future that was foretold for herself.

Eugenie bit her lower lip, drawing no comfort from Tom or Mercedes on either side of her. "Oh, I suppose I might as well go next," she said, a quiver in her voice. She laid her hand on the table, offering it to the unusual muggle. "Tell me, Seer Granger, what the future has in store for me," she demanded dramatically.

Hermione seemed to find being called Seer Granger funny, a quirk to her lips giving her away. She took Eugenie's hand into hers, quiet as she read the folds in her hand. "Hm," she said simply, her finger tapping on a particular spot. "You will find true love. I believe that you already know who I am going to say. After all, wasn't it your intention to make him jealous tonight?"

Eugenie snatched her hand back as though she had been burned. "Oliver?" she asked, holding her hand to her heart, lower lip quivering.

The seer nodded. "But, I must tell you that your marriage will not happen for many years," Hermione continued. "There is...too much politics between your families, leaving you unhappy for nearly a decade."

Tom watched as the seer shuffled the tarot cards, before shoving them into Eugenie's shaking hands to cut. His heart had missed a beat when she said politics. He wondered if she'd simply stumbled onto that word - there was no way that she could know that Eugenie's family would never allow her to marry a half-blood. Right? And how had she known that Eugenie was attempting to make Oliver Hillard jealous? Perhaps she was just using simple legilimency and the girls hadn't noticed it - not everyone had the gift, after all.

This time, his curiosity was piqued as Hermione flipped the tarot cards, wishing that he'd paid more attention to the cartomancy lecture when he'd taken Divination. The cards reflected delays and frustrations, financial failure and finally seclusion, introspection. Eugenie's face grew pale as she realized what was in store for her.

Evan and Mercedes quickly laughed it off, pouring more of the bubbly for the girl, intent on getting her mind off of things. The Rosier heir volunteered to go next, pressing his hand into Hermione's outstretched palm, showing off his Quidditch-calloused hands. Her fingertips traced the ridges and valleys of his love line and his life line with a far off look.

"You will also be tying the knot in the next two years," Hermione started.

His friend was quick to laugh. "Well, I suppose that it is time for me to settle down, now that Druella is married," he said.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You will not be getting married for love, but...because it is the right thing to do," she continued, her voice like a knife's edge, sharp and cutting. "That's right. Be considerate of who you make your conquest, Evan Rosier, because she might just be the mother of your child."

Tom watched as Evan's adam's apple bobbed in his throat, thinking over his next words. Not wanting to seem affected, he forced a laugh once again. "Well, at least I know that my family line will continue. Tell me, Miss Granger, am I to have a son or a daughter?" he asked, affecting a teasing tone, but not succeeding.

"A son that will bare your name, like you bare your father's before you," Hermione said in a sing-song manner that belied the deadly truth she was about to share with him. Her fingers shuffled the tarot a third time before passing the deck across the table. "And he will give his life for a cause that he believes in, without an heir to follow him."

Evan stared at the deck for a moment before finally cutting it. Hermione flipped the cards, making a little noise in her throat when she saw what it was. The Devil stared up at him between two other cards. Unfulfilled wishes, powerless over his vices, vulnerability and lack of self-confidence. Tom watched as the pureblood heir wilted at the cards that had been laid in front of him, and was struck by how on the mark Hermione was.

The two witches, sensing how the mood had dropped, made an effort to cheer up the man seated between them. Eugenie cooed while she poured out fresh glasses of champagne, before passing the half-empty bottle to Evan to hold. Mercedes whispered into his ear giggling softly, her hand resting on his inner thigh and inching up higher. Tom was disappointed to see Evan slip into their coddling lies, all memory of the hard truth the seer had given him slipping out of his mind as easily as the champagne slipped down his throat.

However, he supposed he could be grateful that their attention was focused on each other and not on him. He had doubted this seer, but now her words were hitting far too close to home to be mere coincidence. He was teetering on the edge and didn't care for the way her brown eyes settled on his face, watching him, silent.

"And now we come to you, Tom Riddle," Hermione said, cocking her head to one side. "Give me your hand and we shall see what your life has in store for you."

Hesitantly, as though he were baring his soul to her, Tom gave her his hand as requested. Her hand was warm, warmer than he expected, and soft. He let his occlumency training fall into place, protecting his thoughts from any spells or intrusions, not wanting her to go prodding around. But to his surprise, he felt nothing, not even the barest brushes of her trying to read his mind.

She stared at him across the table, completely ignoring the way that Mercedes and Evan were pawing at one another. "You don't want love or marriage, do you Tom Riddle?" she asked, her tone joking as though they were in on some sort of secret together, just the two of them. "You have bigger ambitions in mind."

Hating the way that she spoke as if she knew him, Tom pressed back against her. "You tell me," he ordered, one dark eyebrow raised.

"I have seen what you desire more than anything in the world," Hermione answered, her eyes glittering in the low light of the candles. The flickering flame made shadows dance across her face, leaving her looking gaunt and drawn, like a skull.

Tom scowled at her. "Power," he answered simply, feeling a tingle rush up his spine as her fingers traced along his life line. "I don't think you'd need to be a seer to realize that."

She shook her head, her lips pursed in amusement. "You do want power, but that is not what you want most in this world," she argued, catching Tom off-guard. "Everlasting life is what you desire. You wish to live forever."

Her words felt like a physical blow across his face. He was stunned that she should know the one thing that he had kept from everyone else in the world, this small slip of a muggle. The brooding man wasn't sure what to say. He certainly didn't want to confirm it to her, so that she knew that she was right. She was already far too smug for his liking.

"You have taken steps to achieve your aims," Hermione continued, with a frown. "But it is not as straightforward as you think. Instead, you've taken steps to your own doom."

He bristled at her words, thinking about the horcruxes that he'd made so far to ensure that he could not be killed, before schooling his face. "That's preposterous," he scowled, realizing that a muggle could not possibly begin to understand the complex magic that was a horcrux. "No one can live forever," he argued.

Hermione did not seem convinced by his lie. "Shall we see what the cards have to say about your future?" she asked, as she separated and shuffled the cards again and again, playing with them like it was some sort of nervous tick.

Tom reached across the table to take the deck of cards from her, before cutting the deck and returning them. Their fingers brushed against each other when they exchanged them, making the back of his neck prickle in anticipation.

Letting out a breath that he didn't even realize he was holding, Tom watched gingerly as she flipped the first card, only to suck in a great lungful of air when the middle card revealed Death. His eyes focused on that card alone, not even bothering to recognize the other two cards beside it.

Hermione laughed when she saw that his gaze was pinned to the ominous card. "Don't worry Tom," she teased, her nose crinkling in delight. "Death is not an omen that your life is going to end. Rather, it is showing that this is a time of transformation for you. A chapter of your life is closing, and a new one is being written."

He could barely hear her description of the two cards that bookended such a terrible card - the ace of swords and queen of cups - over the buzzing in his ears. He looked at her plum lips while she vaguely explained that he needed to seek the truth, and that he would have a compassionate figure to guide him. All he could focus on was how off-balance he found himself all of sudden.

When he'd met Evan in Knockturn Alley earlier in the day, he'd felt confident and sure of his plans for the future, but now he wasn't so sure. This muggle seer had pinpointed his darkest desires in an instant, something that no one else had been able to do. She had finished speaking, and Tom was able to nod his head, still swirling with thoughts.

The noise of the room filtered back in once he was not so attuned to Hermione, and he realized that Evan and the girls were terribly drunk. If they didn't leave right then, Tom wasn't sure he could count on the lascivious man not to take Mercedes Lestrange right there on the seer's table.

Tom barked an order at his former schoolmate, pleased to see him react immediately. With an arm around each witch, Evan was barely able to stop swaying and Tom wondered just how much the trio had drank. After passing over a fistful of muggle pounds to the girl, the magical cohort left the second floor flat.

Once they were on the street, the trio began to sober up when the cold air hit their faces. "Oh, that seer was so dreadfully boring," Mercedes complained loudly. "I doubt that she gets even a tenth of what she told us right."

Evan was nodding in agreement. "Yes, I don't know what Druella is on about," he added. "There is no way that she is the real deal."

The three were comforted by their decision to reject everything that the muggle had told them, but Tom did not find it so easy to do. Instead, her words stuck in his mind, festering like a curse. He wasn't convinced that she was a veritable seer, but she'd said enough to give him pause.

It would take further investigation.