Oh, Shit

21

Draco could feel how much Tom was seething besides him. It was in his everything. His magic screamed angry, his posture was daring, and his breathing even hissed out as he tried to withstand the storm of fury. It made it incredibly difficult to pay attention, which was something Draco had to do, because considering how awful a Professor Slughorn was, Draco had to do things from memory. The potion they were brewing was not exactly simple, either. He would have appreciated enough time to at least figure out how many beetles he needed to crush, instead of dice (stupid bloody textbooks, where was his godfather's changes when he needed them honestly). Yet all of Tom's anger boiled down to one singular reason...They had not been partnered for potions.

It was not as though Tom was begging to be partners, so how in the world was Draco supposed to know that he should not be partnering up with other people? Besides, it was something that just happened. Tom surely could not expect them to be partners for literally everything right? That was just ludicrous! There was no way that they would manage that, and unless he was planning on threatening al of the Professors, Draco did not think it was wise to attempt to talk to them about it. It would be a rather weird requiest. 'Hey Professor, actually can I switch partners to Draco, because I am morbidly obsessed with everything about him' did not really go well on the tongue. Of course he would not address it as such, it would likely be something smooth and silky and enough convincing to where the Professors just do it without fight. Draco was good, but that was a level of amazing he aspired to be eventually. He had a feeling it had something to do with the combination of mind magic proficentcy and psychopathic traits the other held close.

"I will ask the Professor to switch tommrow, surely you can handle one day!" Draco pleaded, but Tom cut an absolutely heated glare towards him and he gripped the edges of his hair whimpering softly as he did so. His Ravenclaw partner was concerned, glancing at him with worry. He shrugged it off, annoyed, wincing slightly as Tom gripped his thigh harshly. With an almost jab of the knife the ingredients were scooped and tossedi nto the potion to be stirred. He directed the Ravenclaw easily, and luckily for him the student barely questioned his prowess, and simply went along with most of his on the spot revisions. It was easier when he had his godfather with him, he was far more confident, but he did not and as such he had to make due.

Draco glared down at where pale fingers dug their way into his robes. He wanted to shake the hand away, and so he did, folding his arms in annoyance over his chest. He went to give Tom another glare, but was stopped as Slughorn came by, praising both his and Tom's potions excessivey. Draco wanted to rip his eyes out. It was bad, and things just seemed to be getting steadily worse. He would laugh about it if he was not so certain that would land him with a Crucio-or whatever that weird pain spell was that Tom was so fond of using (seriously, Draco had seen him use it against at least three other students already and it was barely noon). He felt his fingers curl around his ladle, jumping when he heard it snap in half, slaming back against his hand leaving him yanking it out of the way a split seconds before it would have smacked him. As it were, it simply bounced against the desk, leaving Tom, Draco, and Draco's ravenclaw partner staring at where the old whole ladle used to lay. Tom quickly pulled his wand out and whispered a reparing charm before handing it back to him and Draco felt a scream threaten its way out of his throat.

Seriously what was wrong with Tom Riddle? The man was insane. Draco thought he understood insane, after all every Black he knows had the insanity taake them eventually (even his mother had slowly been going down that path before Draco got displaced), and yet it seems that the young Dark Lord would forever change his perceptions. He had thought that Tom's older version was so different from his younger, but the more he spent with Riddle, the more he realized that they had a lot of similairites.

Those weird acts of service being one of them, Draco held the newly whole ladle in his hand, staring down at it, before finally addressing his partner to stop and bottle the potion without even glancing at him or the potion. He did not even bother to look and see if they bottled one for him, he just knew that they would. The Dark Lord was always dangerous, but sometimes he would do these small things, and it would leave you questioning everything you knew about him. Tom does the same thing. For merlin's sake he was just pissed off about our partners, and yet he repaired and returned my broken ladle. I don't understand it! It left Draco feeling adrift, lost among the sea. Tom was dangerous, and he was in power, and yet Draco felt himself uncertain where he stood with the other.

He knew tom had an obsession, that was obvious enough. Who gets mad at not being partners in a potions class? It was not as though thier partners' were fixed either. Draco could easily team up wtih Tom after this potion. Not to mention he had refused to let Draco buy his own stuff from Diagon Alley, and he had introduced himself to the inner circle of what would eventually become his Death Eaters. Tom had no intentions of letting Draco escape him anytime soon. Not that he wanted to. Draco was comfortable staying right where he was at. It may be unnerving, and leave him wrong footed but ti was, and always would be, better than dealing wtih Dumbloedre...the man whose class he had next, and sighed resigned as he and Tom gathered their things.

Tom grabbed his wrist, pulling him out of the class, a gritted 'we need to speak' murmurred under his breath. Draco felt waves of anxiety roll through his body. Surely this was not about the partnership right? It was just one day! ONe class and one potion and Draco was more than allowed to partner with someone lese. Slughorn had even been the one to assign them, so if anything Tom should be angry with Slughorn.

"WHat..." Draco was cut off as he was slammed roughly against the wall, leaving the breath exiting his lungs too quick for him to process it.

"Do. Not. Ever. fraternize with other students again!" Frantenize?

"I am not doing anything wrong, and they were just a partner!" Draco winced as nails dug through his robes.

"Must I repeat myself?" Tom whispered, his voice low, deadly.

"No, Sir," Draco obediently replied, his head low once again.

"Good...I already let you know who to speak to. Who knows what those other housemates will try when I am not around, I do not want you talking to anyone but the Professors, and my inner circle. It is too dangerous."

"Yes, Sir,"

Subservience was the way to survival, and so obedient he would be. Even if it was over something so utterly stupid!

"Do you wish to continue your fortifications after Transfiguration? Dumbledore will likely try and pry into your mind, and I do not want you to drain yourself too badly."

"I am prepared for the work it will take, please...I have to keep it up."

"I will not take it from you," Tom said primly, pulling his hands away from where they were gripping his shoulders like a vice. "We will practice if you wish, but I will not go lenient on you."

"I would hope not, Sir,"