𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇; Tom Riddle

chapter one

jealousy;

Envy is an emotion I'd rather not admit to. My pride consumes me. Elizabeth Kane, envious? No.

However, it is not a thing easily ignored. That feeling of burning jealousy, that twists your guts, has a way of creeping up on you like a predator pursuing its prey out of starving desperation. One fleeting moment you're in complete control, the next, you're doing things full of spite and hatred just for the hell of it. It's like driving a car blind, except you're only driven and blinded by your rage and envy.

Aside from the snide and condescending remarks our enemies chastise away at us, perhaps, in the tiniest slimmer of chance, there is hope of friendship and abundance. Most times often than not, indifference is a choice. You could always simply choose to put aside your pride and let peace win. Friendship is always an option when it comes to your enemies. Isn't it?

No. Not with Tom Riddle.

"Oh, marvelous job, Tom!" cried the loud teacher, clapping his hands enthusiastically.

Professor Slughorn could only be described as an obnoxiously loud and dramatic man. Atleast in moments like these, when it came to his favorite star student, Tom Riddle. The professors professionalism seems to diminish rather quickly, putting aside manners to cheer his pupil on.

I could most certainly tell he favored Tom over me. As everyone else did.

I am naturally a failure. I'm the type that serves, and he's the type that orders and demands. My studies are the one thing that I am somewhat good at, and I won't let him steal what I've worked so hard for. Not when my time of glory is so close.

That is the sole reason that this has such great value to me. It's my turn to be the winner.

Who wouldn't favor him, though? He was the golden boy of Hogwarts, who could do no wrong and say no wrong. Contrary to popular belief, I always thought he was nothing short of a charming manipulator that everyone swooned over.

It was the beginning of the year-September twenty-ninth, nineteen-forty-three. I was certainly not ready for Tom Riddle's year-long boasting already.

I groaned in annoyance, yearning to be out of potions class already and see my boyfriend; Abraxas Malfoy.

Through my little fit of rage, I soon realized I had attracted the unwanted observations of the entirety of my classroom. My lips pursed into a tight line out of sheer embarrassment. Their eyes clung to me, watching with curiosity as they whispered to their dearest friends. They watched because they wanted to see my reaction of defeat against my greatest enemy; Tom Riddle.

Only because our rivalry and competitiveness is so evident to others around us.

You see, it had become a bit of an ongoing joke in this class, something students could gawk at when they're not feeling particularly amused by which herbs to mix with what to create old potions. The heated banter and odd glares accross from the chalkboard were all too apparent to everyone else. This was something everyone recognized in the wake of their hearts.

It was a silent rivalry between the two of us. We both acknowledged it, yet never really did much about it aside from the stray condescending comment every now and then, disguised as politeness by tight smiles and social gestures in classrooms. I never knew him or what he was like outside of the occasional class, nor did I want to, I always thought he was an uptight snob. I guess I could recall school events where i'd spotted him, sitting in a corner, book in hand, curls sitting neatly and a drink in his hand. His friends gathered around him, almost cultishly. My friends would tease, poking and prodding about how they'd invite him over here.