Good Night, Darling

[ Always For The First Time ]

"Hadrian," Tom said, gaining the other boy's attention. They were alone, in the dormitory, and both of them were late for classes. Tom was only late because he realised Hadrian was nowhere to be found, and it had given him a wonderful idea.

Hadrian only grunted in response, folding a spare shirt into sections and tucking it back into his trunk.

Tom swallowed, trying to remember the words he had crafted only hours ago. He knew exactly what to do, and what to say, so why in that moment was it so difficult to form any words?

"I came here to apologise," Tom said, and felt some satisfaction in seeing Hadrian still, "It was terribly rude of me and I sincerely regret how I have been treating you. I do hope you can forgive–"

But Tom never got the chance to finish his sentence as his whole boy was shoved roughly against the wooden post of one of the beds. His spine gave a painful jolt, and his head snapped back with a crack.

"How..." Tom's voice was breathy, "How very muggle, Hadrian."

"Don't you dare speak," Hadrian gritted out, one of his arms pinning Tom back and the other... his other hand was trapped around Tom's throat. He could barely breathe, let alone taunt or mock. Tom tried to go for his wand, he knew it was in the holster strapped tightly to his right forearm, but he could not move.

"How dare you try and apologise to me," Hadrian seethed, "When you don't even know what you are apologising for? You don't even know 'how you've been treating me' and I would bet a hundred galleons that it wasn't even your idea to apologise, however half heartedly you did it. I don't forgive as easily as you think I do, Riddle."

Tom opened his mouth, but no words came out and he saw a fuzzy blackness in the outer frames of his vision. His attempt only enraged Hadrian more.

"I told you to stay away, and you were doing so well."

The last two words were so mocking, such a patronising taunt that Tom had to think for a few moments to realise what was happening. It sounded so like... But Tom was thoroughly distracted by the face pressed up in front of him, moulded with anger and amusement and sheer, unadulterated hatred.

Tom wasn't scared, he didn't get scared, but the way Hadrian's eyes were flashing in that moment. Green to black to green to black to green. The world would surely fall within moments of Hadrian Peverell being set loose onto it.

"But you are such a narcissist, aren't you Tom?"

Hadrian said his name almost like Dumbledore did, with all the softness and the condensation but with ten times the malice. There was also a promise, in those words, of pain. It reminded Tom of...

Tom's vision was getting so blurry, and he was not getting enough oxygen to breathe and he knew, deep down, that Hadrian didn't care and that he would leave Tom here to die, alone, and without having completed anything in the world.

"Shhh," Hadrian whispered, "I won't leave you here."

Tom jolted, the weight around his neck gone in an instance, and he forced himself to stand up straight. Even if he could barely see, barely hear, he tried to raise his wand. Hadrian only laughed, and it was such a familiar laugh...

"Don't even bother, Riddle, you wouldn't stand a chance. Now, stay away from me and my friends. I won't ask as... politely again."

Tom stood there, his wand pointed into the face of Hadrian Peverell, as the boy turned his back on the best duellist to have ever walked the halls of Hogwarts. But that was what drew Tom to him in the first place, wasn't it? The way he had never been scared, he had never shown any fear towards Tom and it had both infuriated and intrigued him. Now, Tom felt he had somehow messed up over the last four months.