Oh, Shit

27

The young Malfoy was fascinating. Tom was not sure anyone had ever fascinated him to the same extent as his obsession with the boy was beginning to develop. Tom knew that it was more than just the obedience, though he enjoyed that immensely. There was something just so...so different about the Malfoy. He was not entirely sure what it was. He was a strange development, a unique mystery that Tom could not wait to piece together. Even still, though, to an extent, Tom felt...he just felt different about Draco. The boy was clearly capable, extremely magically inclined, and just by watching him Tom had learned much from him, something that while surprising, was even more fascinating. It seemed the more layers that Tom discovered, the more amazing the boy became. He wanted to own him, and consume his soul.

It was unnerving, as Tom had never felt something so...strongly before. He knew that there was something wrong with him, had seen how others reacted to romance, and it was almost cheeky, and cringe worthy. That desire for love, Tom shuddered at the mere thought of something so...beyond his own comprehension. Not that he ever admitted this to anyone, not even his closest followers, Orion, and Abraxas, no, none had ever known that he did not understand the appeal, or indeed, the emotion itself. He did not want something like that, though Tom would admit, he was beginning to see Draco, not necessarily as an equal. No, he did not think anyone was his equal, but about as close to one that anyone could get. Tom relished the challenge that Draco provided. Even beyond a challenge, the boy was fiesty, but not towards Tom. That was what he liked. He liked the never-ending obedience, and yes the fear, that was only towards him, and nobody else. It did not show with Abraxas, or Orion, or Avery, or Nott. Oh, the first meeting between Draco and Avery was practically golden. His ability to maneuver himself into whatever the situation needed was something Tom enjoyed seeing, and would forever enjoy.

Beyond all the submission, fear, and obedience, the feisty attitude with the other Slytherins, though, Tom knew that there was something even better about Draco. His magic. Oh, his magic. Tom nearly moaned just thinking about it as he watched the blonde ward his bed again before tucking himself in with a mere seconds' glance at Tom once more, a bow of his head, and a quick yank of his curtains. His magic was so potent, so beautiful, so...so, so, so very powerful. It was unnerving, almost, just how strong the boy was. He was still so young, he should not be as strong as he was, but Tom supposed that could be attributed to his family ties. Purebloods were typically very strong, though the risks of squibs increased the more they inbred.

It was so dark, so thick, and yet it was like a thick fog, which slowly turned to mist in the morning. It matched his emotion, his intentions, and it was just so delicate in a way that Tom did not think he could ever truly get used to. With Tom, his magic was a thin wisp of crisp morning air, something that snuck in without you even realizing it, and in moments before you finally did, it was far too late to do much about it. With Abraxas, it turned to a thick mist, something that was almost hard to breathe through, and with those he did not like, or that earned his ire...oh, it was that fog that choked your vision and went down your throat. So different from Tom's own cloying darkness, but yet so much more enticing.

Tom wanted to keep Draco lashed to his side just to feel and experience the differences his magic went through. To understand it, to grasp it with his hands, and hold it tightly. It was almost addictive, and Tom had never really felt something like that before. Perhaps it was not healthy, but when did Tom really care about what was healthy, much less for his victims? Tom wanted to laugh at the mere thought. Yet, there was something different about Draco even then. He did not want anyone else to fuck with him. No, Draco was Tom's to mess with, and it was fun.

The boy was so...eager, so desperate for kindness, of any sort, and yet at the same time, it confused and addled him beyond something that was normal. It was quite clear that whoever had control over him before had taken advantage, and that was something Tom wanted them to pay for. To practically destroy such a gem? It was almost criminal. Perhaps more so since it had not been him who had done the breaking. Oh, if he had been the one to manage it? Tom did not want to know how delectable it would be. He would, eventually, and then remake him as Tom's...He was practically giddy at the mere thought.