Tom knew Cassandra was an accomplished dancer; her noble upbringing ensured a certain grace on the ballroom floor. So, his invitation hadn't been fraught with worry over her potential clumsiness.
After seeing Cassandra off, Tom went in search of Nagini. He was, to be frank, rather surprised she hadn't sought him out already. He arrived at her office – yes, like Tom, Nagini, as a teaching assistant, possessed her own office – and found her seated at her desk, ostensibly occupied but clearly elsewhere in mind.
Her attempt at normalcy was almost comical; she didn't even seem to register his presence.
Knock, knock, knock…
Tom, playing along, subtly tapped on the open wooden door, as if thinking she hadn't noticed him.
"Come in," Nagini said, glancing up with exaggerated surprise. "Ah! Tom?!"
He glimpsed a flicker of anticipation in her eyes.
"I need to go out for a bit. I'm leaving things in your capable hands. Contact me if necessary; you know the procedure," Tom said, omitting any mention of her feigned ignorance. A shadow of displeasure flickered across her face, like a pet snake feeling wronged.
Tom, with his characteristic dark humor, found it amusing. "Oh, and do remind Dumbledore to exercise his old bones. Wouldn't want him breaking a hip on the dance floor."
"..."
Nagini looked even more crestfallen. That bastard Tom, he'd rather dance with Dumbledore than her?
Of course, that wasn't the reality. Tom, under no circumstances, harbored any interest in men, least of all elderly ones.
In truth, had Nagini expressed a desire to dance with him, he likely wouldn't have refused.
After all, dancing once or twice made little difference. For Tom, while dancing held no intrinsic appeal, he had already engaged in one, so the precedent was there; he couldn't risk love potions running amok.
His reticence wasn't solely to tease Nagini; it stemmed from practical considerations.
If word spread that he'd consented to dance with both of them, the assumption would inevitably be, If there's a second, there'll be a third, and a fourth… The ensuing entanglement would prove quite tiresome.
Of course, he couldn't entirely deny a twinge of guilt at Nagini's aggrieved expression.
...
High in the Alps, in the formidable Nurmengard Prison…
Tom arrived at this imposing castle after leaving Hogwarts and made his way to a cell deep within the highest tower. The cell was spartan, containing only a simple bed. Scattered about were numerous pieces of paper, some bearing handwritten words.
On the bed, a gaunt old man stirred, his previously dull eyes flickering open as if he had "seen" something.
The space before him shimmered and distorted.
"..."
This place is warded with a Reverse Apparition curse! Who possesses the power to forcibly teleport here?
A tall, handsome young man materialized, clad in black robes adorned with silver. Gellert Grindelwald regarded the newcomer with undisguised curiosity.
Tom, however, remained silent, reaching down to pick up a sheet of paper covered in writing. He read aloud, "Dear Al, greetings! I am here…"
"Ahem!"
A tinge of embarrassment colored Grindelwald's expression as he coughed, interrupting Tom. Abandoning his facade of nonchalance, he changed the subject. "You are Tom Riddle, Albus Dumbledore's favorite student?"
Tom set the paper down, observing Grindelwald as the old wizard swiftly snatched it up. "So you are... Albus Dumbledore's ex-wife, Gellert Grindelwald, the wizard he personally imprisoned?"
"..."
Grindelwald's face darkened. "Just as he said, you are truly infuriating – utterly unpleasant."
"I hardly require your approval, old man."
Tom shrugged dismissively. "I understand Albus Dumbledore hasn't visited you in decades since you were locked away, correct?"
"..."
"So, old man," Tom continued, "consumed by loneliness and starved for affection after so many years apart from your beloved, do you... wish to see Albus Dumbledore again?"
"Heh… truly a complete scoundrel."
A knowing glint appeared in Grindelwald's eyes. "I see through your ruse. You intend to lure me out? Use me as a pawn, perhaps?"
"Honestly, I don't think much of an old man like you."
Tom settled onto the edge of Grindelwald's bed. "Besides, don't assume everyone is as depraved as you. I, at least, am not plotting some nefarious scheme."
"..."
Really?
But hasn't it been said that you are the "Dark Lord"?
Grindelwald had never explicitly been bestowed that title, perhaps because his focus had been more on targeting Muggles.
Regardless, he didn't believe a word Tom uttered. "Think what you will... but you will not convince me. I will not leave."
"Afraid Albus Dumbledore will be disappointed in you and seek another partner?"
"..."
Grindelwald stared at Tom, speechless. This brat's words are truly atrocious. "If I were to leave, countless individuals would be uneasy, forever suspecting me of malicious intent."
"Why would they presume to suspect you?"
"..."
If you cannot speak civilly, then say nothing at all!
Grindelwald momentarily recaptured some of his youthful fire; the urge to exchange blows with Tom briefly flickered.
But it was merely a fleeting impulse. He knew the measures Tom had taken, silencing the entirety of the wizarding world.
Albus Dumbledore, at least, could overpower him, but not this boy.
Furthermore, according to Al, the Elder Wand now resides in this boy's possession… He does not seem burdened by the same predicaments as I.
However…
"If I were to venture out, numerous aging men would harbor inappropriate thoughts; do you comprehend?"
Grindelwald chuckled. "While they pose no threat to you, given your disposition, you likely find such nuisances distasteful… Thus, it is best to allow this decrepit old shell to remain here, decaying in solitude."
---