decadence.

Some Things Are Better Left Unsaid

     He sat at his desk, his glasses positioned low on his nose. He would always tell himself he didn't need them unless he was reading something small on a piece of parchment, or when he gets too tired and the words start forming together on the pages. He felt they made him look older, somehow more sloppy. In reality, they did the very opposite. 

     But he just couldn't seem to focus on anything. Anything but that fucking student. The second she had walked into class that first day, he had had felt it. It was nothing but desire for that damn Nott. He hadn't felt something so strong since he was her age. Never for another human, but he knew the feeling. He knew he couldn't have her, but his dress pants tightening in between his legs had its own idea of what he could and couldn't.

     And here he sat again, his hand pressing down against his boner as he read over any busywork he had given the class and had forgotten to grade. But he wasn't sitting in this classroom to get hard-ons over students, he wasn't here to place himself into dreams of some girl in the hopes she would get scared enough to never even start something with him. Or intrigue her into saying something.. He was here to get access to the library, and to all of the ancient texts he now had as a professor. 

     With a loud groan of frustration, he shoved the parchment sheets down onto his desk and removed his hand from his trousers. In another quick hand movement, his glasses were off and his belt was undone, the buckle slapping against his thigh. Like many times before, he had felt himself feel a wave of regret as his fingers slid his zipper down. 

     Three sudden, sharp raps on his door quickly drew him back to his senses. He collected himself and rose from his chair, his body moving almost snakelike as he slid around his desk and sauntered to the door. He unlocked and tugged the door open with the obvious feeling of unnecessary force. Was he mad from being interrupted, or mad from the presence of another human being? He did not know, but he knew he hated to be bothered, even more so when his hand was halfway into his boxers. 

     A tall, chubby wizard with flowing grey whiskers and matching hair was stood on the other side of the door. Once the door was open, the two men looked at each other for a long second before the Professor stepped aside. The shorter one of the two spoke first, his voice a long drawl. 

     "It is with much regret that I'm coming to see you so late in the evening, but we need to have a long awaited conversation about your behaviours, Tom" 

     The other man said nothing, keeping himself silent as he perched himself on the edge of his desk. A hint of a smirk crossed his face, but it was gone as quickly as it came once his name was mentioned.

     "I'm afraid I have no idea what you're on about, Headmaster. Ever since I came back, it's always something new. Almost like you're looking for a reason to kick me out" He raised two of his fingers as the Headmaster tried butting in. "Don't give me a job if you're not going to trust me enough to do it" He almost spat his words out into the other mans face, the tension and annoyance surrounding him was growing by the second.

     "I do trust you, Tom" The sound of his own name coming out of someones mouth was enough to make him see red. Yet he stayed silent, his hand tightening around the curved edge of the desk he was leaning on. The Headmaster pretended not to notice the whitening knuckles of the young man as he continued to speak. "But you make it very hard for me and the rest of the staff to do so. Ever since you came back to Hogwarts, everything is... peculiar. More so than normal"

     "And your first thought was me?" The Professor asks with a shake of his head, a small laugh dripping from his throat. It was a dry laugh, a laugh that sucked all possible humour out of the room. The greying wizard took half a step back at the sound of the laughter. It wasn't human.  They watched each other in silence for what felt like hours, in reality it was only a handful of long, painful seconds.

     With a sharp intake of breath, the Professor rose and walked to the door of the classroom with an almost inhuman speed. He drew the door open, his eyes not leaving the half-moon spectacles of the man across the classroom. Both men knew any further conversations would result in a rather loud and violent argument.

     The Headmaster slowly walked to the door as the raven haired man made note of the time, an eerie smirk drawing across his face as the other reached the door. With only three words and a slight grimace, he exited the room; he had left Tom Riddle alone once more, his words hanging in the air.

     "Leave her alone, Tom"