GOD KILLERS. Tom Riddle

08. The colour of jealousy

CHAPTER EIGHT
THE COLOUR OF JEALOUSY

"I HEARD ABOUT YOUR LITTLE RUN IN WITH MISS BAPTISE?" Tom commented cooly once August entered the common room later that morning.

August didn't wonder how Tom already knew about Juno. The thing with Tom is, he knew everything, he has eyes and ears everywhere— in the walls, outside surveying everyone, August knew this was odd, but he didn't care. He was the golden boy of Hogwarts for Merlins sake, in August's eyes, it was fine.

Tom was seated on the biggest armchair, his trouser clad legs sprawled outwards across the paisley carpet and his shoe tapping lazily, as a book rested in his hands.

From what August could tell, Tom always had this lazy aura surrounding him. As if he needn't do anything, as if everything would fall into place even without his divine intervention.

August craned his neck a little, but doesn't quite see what Tom's reading. It being too far away and August was too stubborn to ask his parents for glasses, even though he desperately needed them; it being harder to read the board from where he and the rest of his group had sat, but alas, he had to sit at the back or else his friends would believe he wasn't as cool as he wanted them to believe.

It's stupid, he knows, but being the Knights very own necromancer wasn't the most coolest thing. He needed to be able to stay with them at the back, afraid of looking like a teachers pet by sitting at the front.

"yes, she's quite . . something, isn't she?" He replied as he edged closer to Tom. His eyes trained on the book.

Once he stood in front of him, he responded.
He finally recognised the book by the time he reached Tom — a beginners guide to transfiguration. A frown settled on his face once he realised this, Tom was brilliant at Transfiguration, why did he need this?

"mhm. but she might get in the way," Tom mused, his tone far off and almost cold, weren't it from August standing in front of him, the facade would've cracked, cracked all over the floor as he spoke, though because of August's presence, he regains his composure and looked up at him.

"in the way of what?" August prodded, his frown deepens. It wasn't a surprise he was out of the loop. Having only been a Knight for a month, he was always missing out on late night talks the other Knights had, most importantly, Abraxas and Tom. Who when they spoke, spoke in Tom's bed, in hushed whispers.

Jealousy sparked through him these nights. An ugly thing made for an ugly boy.

He'd never heard Tom speak like this before, not to his face anyway. Tom snapped the books shut, causing August to flinch slightly. He stood up from his seat, rolling his shoulders back before placing the book down on the table besides the chair.

"nothing you need to worry yourself over— not just yet," he nodded, motioning towards the door.

"breakfast? you must be starving after all that quidditch,"

August nodded softly, his frown faded and replaced with a small smile, at least make Tom think he was okay about the whole not telling him thing. Maybe he just wasn't good enough to know just yet. He hated being not good enough for him.

The feeling had started the moment Tom slapped him on the back, the hare happily hopping about, alive, telling him welcome to the group, he'd wanted to prove himself to him every single day after that. But never getting anywhere.

It had gutted him in a way a knife never could.

....

They headed to the great hall in silence. August didn't like it, though he liked it a lot more than the gossiping and chatter that usually surrounded Tom.

It was as if every girl in the castle was obsessed, like the only thing they could think every second of the day was Tom. Tom Tom Tom.

It gets on his nerves, the girls with their pretty faces smiling up to him, twirling their locks, bubblegum lips forming into pouts to kiss his cheek, asking for help in homework they're far too smart to not understand.

He was like a disease infecting whoever gets too close.

August knew he was already infected, just like those stupid girls, he knows it in the dead of night when the only person he could ever think of was him.

Tom Tom Tom.

It happened gradually, the moment they met the disease settled into his brain, itching and clawing at him, how could he not be obsessed?

How could he not when Tom walked with such ease and grace like their rival's animal? A lion amongst its prey, stalking its slaughter prior to its killing?

Some days he would just sit, watching the boy, he head leant back, eyes closed as the sun bathed him in a holy glow. He didn't mean to become obsessed, it wasn't a task he'd thought he'd do willingly. Dreams of him had whispered into his brain, Augustine, he didn't even mind him speaking his full name when it sounded like that on his lips.

"Augustine?" He felt the sharp nudge of Tom's elbow in his arm, jolting him out of his Tom infused daze.

"hmm?" he turned to Tom with a raised brow, "where were you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Where were you?" He repeated, "you do this thing, you go somewhere— a daydream possibly?" He noted tilting his head at him like he was an animal he was inspecting at a zoo.

August couldn't help but feel the oncoming blush, he didn't exactly like when Tom would find out things that August didn't even know about himself.

"Nowhere, come on, I'm starving,"

....

Food was scoffed down August's throat the moment he sat down, mainly to stop the agonising feeling of jealousy that had now entered his brain.

Jealousy's an ugly thing, it makes its home deep inside his brain and stays there. Rotting. Rotting until he can't take it anymore.

It had come in the form of Juliet Paterson, who had slid into the seat besides Tom, and opposite August. Her straw coloured hair held up into a ponytail as she flashed a smile at Tom, her hand on his arm as he helped her with her History of Magic essay — as if August hadn't done it all for him.

She should be asking him for help, not Tom. She's only here because she's infected, just like August.

"oh you're just so smart Tommy" she cooed at him, twirling her hair in that stupid way most girls do; August would probably do the same if it were socially acceptable.

He laughed, but doesn't return the compliment as he skimmed over the pages, his slender index finger tracing idily on the coffee coloured parchment.

August watched, like always, his eyes fixated on his hands until Juliet spoke, breaking the silence that had settled over them.

"so Augustine." He raises a brow at her, snapping himself out of his gaze.

"What?" Cold. His voice rung out brittle and unfeeling, he tilted his head at her condescendingly.

She flinched lightly at his demeanour before regaining her composure. "I heard your joining the slytherin team — better watch out for Fleamont,"

She had meant it jokingly, but jealousy always clouds vision.

"Should I now?" He spat out, "and why's that?"

She looked at him oddly, getting defensive, "I-I just mean . ."

"Leave him," Tom cut in curtly before giving a shake of his head, Juliet just nodded very quickly as Tom passes her back the essay.

"See you in class," she spoke quietly before disappearing down the table to her friends.

Then, when Juliet had gone, Tom turned to August.

"Jealousy isn't a good look," he almost sneered out. But there was something else. Like he was enjoying the whole thing. From the way a smile tugged at the corner of his pink lips.

And August can't help but seem happy rather than embarrassed.