Tom Riddle's View On Love

Part 2

They are jealous that you have a date with someone that is not them so they get a little threatening to the guy taking you out.

Names. They didn't matter, they never had. It was a waste of space inside his mind. It held no real space. He committed only the names he knew he had no choice but to remember. At least that was till, he met you. You. His poison. You had seeped you way into his bones and soul. It started as your name, then your smile, followed by a list of all your favorites and now the smell of your goddamn shampoo. The side affects of the poison named y/n caused intense possessiveness, jealousy, and the need to protect till his last breath. Which is why he found himself waiting up so late on a man who looked like a rat; that's name he couldn't remember. All that was in his mind was torture. But, he knew he couldn't. Because he couldn't trust the rat not to tattle tell when the damage was evident on his face for the date. Luckily decades later, he'd get to torture his son Peter Pettingrew for sport. But he didn't know that just yet. It took hours past curfew for the rat show up. He charmed him against the wall quickly "what" it was a squeak and nasally at that. A single word annoyed beyond words. Tom grabbed the fire poker from near the fireplace pressing it against the rats neck. He coughed and choked out but no words. "y/n...one. You get one date with her. You will not land a finger on her. You will not ever speak to her again after tonight or I'll spend decades torturing you and your legacy. Hell, I;ll have my kids to do it" kids with y/n now that was a thought. Wait. no. Backtrack. He pressed the rod in deeper watching him struggle. "Do you understand me? Nod" the day of a man twitched, yes cause he wasn't given the ability to fully nod. The smell of urine flooded his nose as the rat fell into a puddle. The nameless slytherin ran away covered in his own pee. Simplicity always works to drive fear home. You. Deserve. Better. Was all that was in his mind as he scourgified the gross smell. He wanted to charm you but he had no clue. His parents abandoned him. He was an orphan. His father was a muggle. His mother was a whore who was a blood traitor, and abuser of love potions. So they were nor would they have been an option to charm his poison. Library. It had all the answers. He would find it there. He knew he would. He had no other choice and to say he was a determined man was an understatement. He would have you. He would bathe in his poison. It would be a reward after his mind traveled to you so often. Thoughts of how to make you smile, the idea of just how sofy your hands could be laced in his.

The one where they "Secretly Follow" ahem "Stalks" you on your date with another man.

If someone had told him months ago he would have sunken this low he would have called them an idiot. He had his "special" projects and school work to do. Yet, here he was his mind racing. It felt like madness was seeping into his bones and soul. It wasn't the type of madness that cpoled with black thorns. No, that would be too easy and he could thrive off of it. Instead it was warm and spread though him like a perfectly warm shower. Which was the exact temperature of his showers since he met you. No, you. Thoughts of you forced in his mind to run wild. He refused to fuel those thoughts because it made him feel a little to close to that "whore" he called a mother. Now, if he knew you liked him. All would be lost. He would tug his entire existence into the drain with the perfect warmth of a shower. Instead, he spent his morning and night using sharp cold to urge to blood down and away from his southern wand. At this point he couldn't laugh at the absurdity of it all. Everything about you pushed him to be the exact opposite of who he actually was that it had gotten the ever annoy the extremely manipulate Professor Dumbledore to leave him the fuck alone. He hadn't planned to spend his saturday evening following you around on your date with some prick. But, his legs and stomach hadn't given him another choice. Not when he saw you come down the stairs looking flawless. He had no clue what you had done, but your outfit flood a new wave of desires from the top of his head to the bottom of his toes. Especially on his "wand" region. So he now found himself staying a few meters away and out of site. Watching the rat, of a student before him hold your hand. Anger and agony poured into his heart closing then tightly. His heart ached at the idea of your perfect small soft hands touching anything that wasn't him. A silent jinx stung the slimy boy's hand out of yours. He then hid for a few seconds laughing to himself watching him jump away from you. He had done silent and painless disarm spells to try to do anything but keeps the man's hands off of you. He also silently built a list of how this man was royally fucking up his chance with you. 1. He didn't meet you right outside where the dorms met the common room. 2. He yelled for you to rush you 3. Not a single fucking flower much less a gift in sight 4. He only allowed ya'll to window shop then had the AUDACITY to criticize your choices (which were perfect and the best choice he might add) 5. No food whatsoever. Not even butter beer. When you asked about food, the man laughed pinching your side. This one had made him murderous. Which is part of the reason he had snuck into the common room before him. He made sure the slimy rat saw his face when he tried to reach in for a kiss, a lovely fear that called him pushed the man...no boy away. He couldn't handle this any longer. "Y/n we need to talk" he spat as the boy ran away like you were made of lava.