Both obsessed/Tom Riddle (completed)

011 Even more

As the months passed, the bond between Tom and Ernesh deepened, entwining them in a connection neither of them could-or wanted to-escape. The power that crackled between them was palpable, the lines that appeared on Ernesh's skin growing more intense, more vivid. It was a mark of ownership, a sign that Tom was the sole source of Ernesh's focus, his every thought, every movement, and every breath dedicated to him.

Abraxas went home, for a while, family stuff apparently.

Tom, too, was consumed. Every thought he had seemed to drift back to Ernesh, the way his skin would glow faintly when Tom touched him, the way those golden-green lines would flare to life, as if feeding on their shared bond. Tom's heart would race at the mere thought of Ernesh, and the intensity made him smile-cold, sharp, and satisfied. No one understood it, no one could see it. It was theirs, and theirs alone.

It was a few weeks after their trip to Knockturn Alley when the group began to grow more uncomfortable with the changes they were seeing. Tom and Ernesh had become inseparable, more so than before, their connection something almost tangible. The others, Lestrange, Avery, Nott, and even the quieter ones like Wilkes and Mulciber, began to notice how Tom and Ernesh moved together, like two halves of the same whole. Tom was always within arm's reach of Ernesh, and Ernesh, with a quiet, obsessive need, seemed to anticipate Tom's every movement. It was as though Ernesh could never bear to be apart from him, even for a second.

"Tom, have you seen that book in the Restricted Section?" Lestrange had asked one evening, his voice carrying a note of suspicion. "The one about Dark magic, the one that binds... souls?"

Tom's eyes narrowed, a dangerous smile tugging at his lips. He could feel the eyes of the others on him, but his gaze remained fixed on Ernesh, who stood next to him, silently awaiting Tom's approval for whatever came next. His fingers brushed briefly against Ernesh's arm, and the familiar warmth of the golden-green lines surged beneath his skin.

Tom's voice was a whisper, his eyes gleaming with an intensity that made everyone in the room shift uncomfortably. "Yes, I've seen it. But some things are meant to stay hidden, Lestrange. You wouldn't understand."

Lestrange looked down at his plate, feeling the weight of Tom's words pressing down on him. Avery shifted uneasily, his eyes flicking from Tom to Ernesh. But none of them dared to ask further. It was clear now that whatever Tom and Ernesh shared was far beyond anything they could comprehend, and perhaps even more dangerous than they had first thought.

At breakfast the following day, the group gathered as usual. Tom and Ernesh sat side by side, as if nothing could ever come between them. Ernesh, as always, was quiet, but his eyes never left Tom. Tom could feel Ernesh's gaze even without looking at him, and the connection between them was like an invisible thread-always pulling, always drawing him in.

Lestrange leaned forward, his curiosity getting the best of him. "You two are almost... sickening, the way you look at each other."

Tom's expression didn't change, but Ernesh stiffened slightly, his fingers curling into his palms, as if the remark had cut deep. He hated that they were being watched, hated the idea of others seeing what they had. But he didn't speak. He didn't need to. Tom would always defend him, always protect him.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Tom said in a low, dangerous voice, the words slipping out like a threat, a warning. "Don't speak about things you can't understand."

The others fell silent, sensing the change in Tom's demeanor. There was something unsettling in the way he spoke, something unnerving in the possessive undertones that hung in the air. Lestrange, Avery, and Nott had learned by now that questioning Tom's bond with Ernesh wasn't a safe path to take. They may have been loyal, but their loyalty had its limits.

As the day wore on, the power between Tom and Ernesh grew stronger. Every time Tom touched Ernesh, whether it was a brush of fingers or a hand placed gently on his back, the lines on Ernesh's skin would flare to life, glowing brighter than ever. Only Tom could see them now, their presence hidden from the others. It was their secret, one that filled them both with an intoxicating sense of control.

Ernesh was becoming more and more clingy, a shadow that never left Tom's side. He walked just a step behind him, his every movement mirroring Tom's. His thoughts were always on Tom-where he was, what he was doing, what he wanted. The others may have been his friends, but they no longer mattered. Not when Tom was near.

Tom, too, was consumed with thoughts of Ernesh. The feeling of those lines against his fingers, the power they shared, it was all he could think about. He didn't need anyone else. Ernesh was his, and that was enough.

Later that evening, in the dim light of the Slytherin common room, the group gathered again. Tom sat in his usual chair, with Ernesh perched beside him, his hand resting on the other boy's knee, fingers lightly brushing the fabric of his trousers. The lines on Ernesh's skin responded immediately, glowing brighter beneath his touch.

Lestrange, unable to contain his curiosity, leaned forward again. "How do you do it, Tom?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with awe. "How do you control him so completely?"

Tom's gaze flicked toward Lestrange, his expression unreadable. But there was something dark in his eyes, a glimmer of something dangerous. "It's not about control," he replied smoothly, his voice like silk. "It's about... understanding. Ernesh understands me in ways none of you ever could."

Ernesh, ever the silent observer, didn't speak. His eyes flicked briefly to Lestrange, but he quickly lowered his gaze, as if ashamed of the attention.

"I am him," Ernesh whispered, so quietly that only Tom could hear. "And he is me."

The words sent a shiver down Tom's spine. He looked at Ernesh, his fingers tightening slightly on the other boy's knee, his smile curling at the edges. "Exactly," Tom murmured. "We are one."

The next day, as they made their way through the halls of Hogwarts, Tom and Ernesh were closer than ever. Their hands, always touching, never parted. Ernesh followed just behind Tom, his movements so synchronized with his that it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

Lestrange, Avery, and Nott watched from a distance, their curiosity and unease growing with every passing moment. But none of them dared speak, knowing that to do so would mean crossing a line they couldn't uncross.

When they reached the Great Hall, Tom and Ernesh took their seats together. Their eyes never strayed from each other, and the bond between them pulsed like a living thing, radiating power that was both terrifying and intoxicating.

At that moment, there was no one else in the room. There was only Tom and Ernesh-together, in a world of their own, where nothing else mattered. The others, the whispers, the dark glances-they were all irrelevant. For Tom and Ernesh, there was only one truth: they were bound, and no one would ever be able to tear them apart