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Tomrested his face on his knuckles, his eyes closed as he thought, thought the plan over and over again, for any faults, any risks of failures. But it was perfect, completely flawless, he would succeed again, and he was sure of it.
His friends, or we should say followers, sat around him, anticipation on their faces. Half of them were older than him, and yet he ruled their thoughts, their actions. Perhaps it was the affect of his personality, his power, his flawless perfection.
"I am completely sure it's going to succeed" Cassasopia Black smiled fondly at Tom, even if his eyes were closed, but he heard her, and said, without caring to open his eyes "I don't remember asking for your approval". His cold voice raised everyone's heartbeats over, and Cass stammered for words "I didn't –"
Tom raised a perfect hand to silence her, and the room fell dead, even the wind make a sound, as if it sensed the menace in his actions.
"I know it's good, but I need someone to get it done for me" he paused, his cold eyes scanning the faces of everyone around him "and none of you are competent enough" .
"Who will do it then ?" Abraxas Malfoy spoke for the first time in an hour, and all eyes snapped towards him, he after all usually stayed quiet.
"I will decide later" Tom leaned on the arm of the chair, his face displaying nothing but indifference, as his eyes again scanned the group sitting around him.
They all seemed to shrink back as his gaze fell on them, probably hesitant to do his bidding this one time.
The class was filled with students as Professor Flitwick recited the lesson they were about to do, the murmuring in the class ending as he started to display the bombarda spell, his squeaky voice echoing in the room.
Hartley stood at the entrance of the class quietly, trying to enter the class discreetly, without being noticed that the griffindor prefect is late.
"Why are you late Miss Johnson ?" Professor Flitwick's voice squeaked, his beady eyes setting upon the late comer.
"Sir, I –" Hartley frowned, she was really bad at lying, it was a flaw she kind of hated and loved. She shuffled her feet, trying to think of any good excuse that would get her out of this, she hates being picked out.
Tom Riddle raised a brow at a figure on the door, he was sitting in the first row, all neatly dressed, his notes complete, the perfect student.
He noticed her, she was the one in the library, the one who utterly defied him. His eyes narrowed over her figure, and as she lifted her head, their eyes met for a second, before she quickly looked away.
How fate plays her games.
"Go and sit down Miss Johnson, and please don't try to be late again" Flitwick said as he motioned Hartley in, "prefects are expected to set a good example, not a bad reputation" .
Hartley scurried in, mentally cursing herself for sleeping in, she had scheduled a late quidditch practice the day before, and slept longer than ever after it. She quickly scanned the room for the place to sit, the class being exceptionally full today. Theres was a place on the first row, but she would rather die than sit with the Slytherin prefect, whom she had heard, had a bad reputation.
"Mr. Riddle, move aside to accommodate Miss Johnson" Professor Flitwick squeaked, and Tom Riddle threw Hartley a glare before moving, he was of course, used to being the most important.
Hartley groaned audibly as she noticed this was the same guy she met in the library, the "Snappy Slytherin".
She sat down beside him, keeping her bag in between them, and shifting to the farthest end of the bench, completely avoiding his deathly glare.
Behind Tom, Cassasopia Black's eyes darkened with rage, how dare a little griffindor idiot sit beside Tom, her Tom ? After all it was not like Tom told her that he only used her because she belonged to a big, rich and powerful family.
The lesson continued, with Riddle's utter disinterest. He had probably leaned this in his second year, the bombarding spell, and he mentally sighed on the state his fellow classmates were in, so intrigued by this spell as if they hadn't seen anything real, anything powerful. But even if he was hating the lesson with his heart, his face had the look of the most attentive, most studios student, after all he was not called a charm for nothing.
Hartley stole a glance at the slytherin, looking away quickly. He was well made, she had to agree, perfect jaw, awesome hair –
She shook her head, disgusted of the thoughts that suddenly flashed in her head.
