by whatever thread of action destined this twisted facade of love, deem yourself unlucky lucky.
just like everything else he does, stalker!tom would treat this like a chess game.
its obsession— duh. but your love is hardly the reward he is wanting to earn (or honestly: in his form of distorted reality) he can’t exactly place a reason why he craves your attention.
for loyalty, power, assets, status
is what he tells himself— though the conclusion is, you offer neither. supposedly, he doesn’t care about anyone.
“And why would you be the exception?”
-
what even is the reason he is so intrigued?
maybe he craves more than simple worship. have you ever tried soul offering?
stalker!tom notices everything.
New book you’re reading? Giambattista della Porta. Classic.
A routinely study spot? 5-8 P.M., T-F.
Slightly lower exam score? Pathetic.
-
You sit in the shadowed corner of the library. The luminance of the moon lights up your Charms Essay and contrasts with the sombre ink delicately written on your scroll. You lean back in your seat. legs extending out and stretching your awfully stiff arms. Suddenly, a humanoid shadow flashes in your peripheral vision.
“Hello?” You instinctively say, quickly straightening your posture.
An eerie silence engulfs the room, yet the speedy rhythm of your heart beats in your ears. 12 A.M on a Wednesday night is awfully a rare time to be studying.
You apprehensively scanned the room— heart coming to a steady flow when you see Neville sitting at a nearby table.
Fuck. It’s just Neville.
Letting out a breath you unknowingly held in, you slightly laugh to yourself. Neville turns around, a confused look written across his face.
You look up, “Catching butterflies?” You smirk, referencing his hurried shadow you saw previously. An uncomfortable and perplexed look grows on his awkward face, and begins to pack up his things before hurriedly exiting the room.
“Shit”, you resort, perplexed. “I was just joking! I didn’t mind-” You promptly call out— getting cut off by the loud doors of the library.
Terribly confused and exhausted, you let out a deep breath, tiredly laughing into your crossed arms.
……
“Neville, Hm?” Tom mumbles, slightly smirking —while pressed flat against the cold stone right outside the library, chest rising quickly— seemingly out of breath from “catching butterflies”.
༻❁༺
poor, poor neville! genuinely, why is it always him?
—
stalker!tom doesn’t believe in “privacy”. well, when it comes to you— of course.
your reoccurring headache in potions isn’t cause of a bad nights rest, silly. it’s legilimency— did you really think it was just a coincidence how you and all of your friends got headaches at the same time?
it also wasn’t a coincidence how tom riddle miraculously became your new partner, either. slughorn is very easy to persuade— and tom finds himself very persuasive, too.
as much as tom convinces himself his intentions are purely pragmatic, it was never necessary to steal your book, just to give it back.
nor was it when he purposely bumped into you just to see your reaction.
was it casual when he crucioed a random 5th year for accidentally spilling fire whisky on you??
—
oh, stalker!tom, how you would embarrass the shit out of them if they ever even considered you were stalking them.
“Who do you think you are?”
but then returns to his dorm later and is questioning why he feels “weird” after acting upon his ruthless and natural nature.
-
besides, tom riddle isn’t capable of even “positively respecting someone in a slightly above average manner”, right?
or does his repetitive and “unconscious” staring at you completely defy that?
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