TOM RIDDLE

              he’s read of harry potter more than he actually knows of him. tom knows that in one universe he dies by the hand of the other wizard, that he let himself become so corrupted and split that his security measures become his downfall. it’s a little  disappointing to see the boy in person. “ -- sorry, is this your room?” he asks, genial as can be. ( harry potter had seen him in the orphanage, and in seventh year, and that feels like violation to the man, a feeling he’s no right to. ) “mine’s just next door, i was waiting for my friend--” no pause, but the word rolls off more naturally than tom expects it to “-- bellatrix.” who killed your god father, his mind hums.

              it’s going well for all of a moment -- right until the girl looks at him and his tongue presses against the inside of his lip. tom sees her wand and levels him a look. “you know who i am, or who i will be i should say -- and you’re raising a wand against me? i look younger but i’m every bit as dangerous.” his wand is in his hand now but he’s so casually dismissive of her for what she’s doing, how she’s going about it. it’s foolish. hopeless, because even if this place didn’t seem to make a killing spell next to impossible he still had his diary, and faithful bellatrix. “i’m twenty-four. it’ll be years before i go as lord voldemort, and even longer before the wizarding world war. you’re making a fuss.”

              if tom riddle ever met connor walsh and they were in a position to talk ( as in, the human didn’t have to be immediately killed because he’d seen oliver before tom ) they were going to have a frank conversation about how often ‘horny’ was used to describe him. tom was fairly sure it wasn’t healthy and in this one instance he was willing to play auntie and give the boy a talking to -- for now, he’ll deal. he kisses the back of oliver’s neck. “how could i not be horny when you’ve got the best ass in cali-forn-i-a,” he says, with a smile, letting his scruff drag against his skin before oliver turned to look at him. “aside from -- semi vivid flashbacks of some not so pleasant shit? yeah, no, not so great, but i can block it out.”

              “in order, being alive is certainly better than being dead. i’m tom marvolo riddle so we can argue over who has the least responsible name for a child. you win. and i’m a wizard. -- clearly we’re now the best of friends because i don’t think i’ve spoken that much of myself since i’ve gotten here.”

              “is food your primary drive in life? if so -- how base.” tom stops and motions down the main road from the hotel. “there’s a pizza place, italian a little further down, and an indian restaurant with terrible chutney.”

              “it’s called -- figure out who’s going to crack first. seventh year at my school was ‘graduation year’ if you get me. always a fun game to play. some ravenclaw always cracked under the pressure near the end. and the way this place feels?” -- tom actually gives a smile, nearly genuine too. he likes how creepy it is here. “someone’ll give eventually.”

              “she’s physically attractive but that doesn’t matter given -- she’s one of my death eaters, and the first to return to me. from what i know of our future relationship she is loyal to a fault. that’s what matters. and -- she knows me well enough, i would hope to realize my feelings are far from... real.”

              “we may look nice together, but there’s more than one reason he shouldn’t be interested in me. chief among them? i’m using him for my entertainment. i’m not going to even mention the ‘i don’t feel love’ part. i’d be a broken record.”

                at first he doesn’t say anything. it’s surreal for him as well, but tom knows she’s not lying the moment he’s able to press against her mind ( legimency, particularly wandlessly cast is the greatest of his weapons -- she is his. ) “my name is tom riddle. i’m twenty-four. i work at borgin and burkes and in a few years - albus dumbledore will rebuke my request to teach at hogwarts,” his lips press thin and he beckons her close again. “i won’t ask again, my dear -- come here. show me your arm. unless of course you’re mine, but something unmarked.” because that’s in even his earliest plans.

              his eyes narrow at her. “there’s a high price to be paid for lying, you understand that, don’t you?” tom’s voice goes cold. “eventually i will be lord voldemort.” he pulls his wand out in a well practiced movement and motions her forward with it.

              “i look just like who? because i’m not serious. it seemed like you were staring. correct me if i was wrong.”

Slughorn: [wiping a tear] such a lovely boy