#tomini

Nagini and Tom Riddle

Tom Riddle and Nagini in pop-art style.

The door to Nagini's new office opened noiselessly. Tom Riddle looked in, masterly, without knocking. He froze in the doorway, watching Nagini, who didn't even flinch at the sudden visit of the Minister of Magic. She was sitting relaxed in the chief auror's chair, leaning her head back against the back. Long fingers clutched a glass of firewhisky, the amber liquid in which barely swayed. — Congratulations on your promotion, Miss Shen, — Tom said in a tone not typical of a minister. However, he himself had promoted Nagini up the career ladder, but he wanted to congratulate a valuable subordinate in a more... intimate setting. Without unnecessary officiousness and prying faces. Nagini slowly turned her head. Her dark, piercing eyes met his gaze. — Thank you, Mr. Minister. I haven't settled into my new office yet. I didn't even have time to hide the booze," Nagini said with a grin.

Minister Riddle approached the subordinate's desk. His gaze slid over the glass, over her pale, almost bloodless fingers clutching the glass. "I hope there was no poison in the Firewhisky, — Tom said quietly. — It would be a shame to lose the new Chief Auror on the very first day. — I didn't check it," Nagini replied, looking at him over the rim of the glass, "I suppose if you wanted to poison me, you would have chosen a more elegant way." — An unacceptable negligence for an auror, — he remarked, not reproachfully, but with curiosity. "My work day is over, actually," Nagini retorted. — Do you audit the offices of subordinates after seven, Mr. Minister? The minister stopped a step away from the table and placed his palms on the polished tabletop. Tom and Nagini's gazes crossed at a closer distance from each other. — Only those in which I expect to find something more interesting than official reports, — Tom replied ambiguously. —Tom, — Nagini said, dropping the formalities and becoming bored with this verbal exchange. — Do you have any special assignment for me on the first day after my promotion? — The brownies have set up a gala dinner for two at my house," he finally said quite simply, without the intonation of an order or a request. — There is a bottle of red wine from 1930 on the table. Colder than it should be. Will you come? To celebrate your new position, of course. Nagini put the glass down on the table with a thud. — Is this an invitation from the Minister of Magic himself? What is it? — she asked playfully, looking into his eyes defiantly. Tom smiled faintly. — The invitation is from your old friend Tom, without unnecessary formalities. Minister of Magic Riddle, — he paused, — has already signed an order for your promotion. His work is done for today. Nagini slowly ran her finger along the glass of the glass, watching Tom's reaction. His face remained impenetrable, but there was undivided attention in the depths of his blue eyes. — Okay, — she said. — Not in 1930… It's too sweet. For the first time that evening, Tom's face lit up with a genuine smile. — I knew you'd say that. I got the 1926 harvest, a semi-dry red one.

Abyss

"Are you cold?" Tom asked sympathetically, taking off his perfectly cut frock coat. His tender care for Nagini was another form of possession, an acknowledgment of her fragility, which he intended to protect as one guards the most valuable trophy.

—No,— his beloved replied to Mr. Riddle, shaking her head, lightly dressed for such a windy night. —The cold has no power over me. Just like time.

Tom came closer, wanting to feel the coolness emanating from her, that strange, unearthly fragrance that always hovered around her — a mixture of faded roses and something earthy. He touched her bare, pale wrist with his hand.

The skin was icy cold. Deathly cold. So cold that for a moment Mr. Riddle felt as if he had touched a marble statue that had lain for centuries in a crypt.

Nagini did not pull her hand away, but slowly turned her gaze to him. And at that moment, the fog lifted, and the moonlight fell directly into her eyes.

And Tom saw in them not the reflection of the moon, not the play of light on the familiar amber of her iris, but an absolutely black abyss devoid of any warmth and life. The look of a predator, frozen in expectation.

He froze, paralyzed not by fear, but by the horrifying truth. All her words, her unnatural pallor, her strength, her strange awareness of things that no lady could have known at a young age... Everything came together in a single, monstrous picture.

Nagini smiled. And this time, the smile revealed perfect, too-white and… impossibly sharp fangs.

"Don't be afraid, my beloved," she hissed softly. — You said you longed for eternity." I'm just showing you… her true face.

But Tom Riddle did not recoil, did not recoil. He stared into the abyss of his bride's pupils and found himself there.

Reflected in the abyss of her eyes, the future is dark, eternal, and insatiable.