Both obsessed/Tom Riddle (completed)

013 Horcuxes

The week before school ended, the air at Hogwarts felt heavy with anticipation. The term was winding down, and students were preparing for their exams, but Tom and Ernesh had little interest in such trivial matters. Their bond was all-consuming, their minds focused on far darker goals. The notion of finishing school, of taking a break from their pursuits, had no appeal. There was work to be done—plans to be perfected.

Tom had been spending more time than usual in Slughorn's office. The Potions Master, ever eager to indulge his brightest students, had taken a keen interest in Tom's abilities. But Tom's true agenda lay elsewhere. He had a burning question, one that had been gnawing at him for months, and he knew Slughorn could provide the answer.

On a particularly quiet afternoon, as the rest of the students busied themselves with final preparations for exams, Tom entered Slughorn's office. His demeanor was calm, calculated, the same expression he always wore when he was about to ask for something—something that was never truly given, but always taken.

Ernesh was waiting in the shadows, as usual. He didn't question Tom's every move; he didn't need to. His loyalty was absolute, and Tom's desires were his own. He knew his place and remained still, his gaze never straying from Tom, though his presence was almost invisible.

Tom was nothing if not precise in his movements. He sat across from Slughorn, offering the man a small, polite smile before launching into the topic he'd been brooding over for weeks. The flicker of anticipation in his eyes was barely perceptible, but it was there.

"I've been thinking a lot about my future," Tom began, his voice smooth, his words carefully chosen. "And I've come to realize that power... true power, is something I need to understand completely. I've heard whispers of certain... experiments, but the details are always vague."

Slughorn's eyes twinkled behind his glasses, and his rotund body shifted slightly in his chair, clearly intrigued. "Oh? You're talking about something... unusual, Tom? Something that isn't usually covered in textbooks?"

Tom smiled again, but this time it was colder. "Something more than that. Something that goes beyond mere spells or potions. Something that would allow me to... persist beyond the limitations of death itself."

Slughorn's face fell, the twinkle in his eyes dimming slightly. He had an inkling of where this conversation might be heading, and it unsettled him. "Tom, my boy, some things... some things are best left alone. Magic that tampered with death? It's dark. Dangerous. Some spells, no matter how tempting, should never be pursued."

Tom leaned forward, his gaze unwavering. "I'm not afraid of danger, Professor. But I need to know. I need to understand how to create an immortal soul. I've heard it involves splitting it, dividing it... creating pieces of yourself that live on."

There was a long, heavy silence between them. Slughorn looked hesitant, his hands wringing together as if trying to physically keep himself from saying something that would betray him. "Tom, you must understand. What you're asking about is... a Horcrux. It's forbidden, as much as it is dangerous. It's... it's not something anyone should ever attempt. The consequences are..." He trailed off, clearly uncomfortable with where the conversation was going.

Tom didn't flinch. "A Horcrux, yes. That's what I've been hearing about. You know more than you're letting on. Tell me, Professor, how does one create a Horcrux?"

Slughorn swallowed hard. He'd been around long enough to see students with great potential, but Tom—Tom was different. His ambition, his hunger for power, was unsettling. Slughorn knew he should refuse, that he should put an end to this conversation before it spiraled further. But Tom was persuasive. Tom was always persuasive.

"I... I can't tell you everything, Tom," Slughorn said weakly, looking down at his hands. "Some things are just too dark. Too dangerous."

Tom's smile deepened, his eyes glinting with the promise of something far more sinister. "You can't or you won't?" he pressed, his voice like ice. "Because I think you know exactly what I'm asking. I think you've heard whispers about it too, haven't you, Professor?"

Slughorn hesitated, his gaze flicking nervously to Ernesh, who remained by the door, silent and still as a shadow. There was something unsettling about the boy—something unnatural. Tom's presence was dark enough, but with Ernesh at his side, it felt like the very room itself had darkened.

"Tom, this is—this is madness," Slughorn stammered. "You're treading dangerous ground. There are rules for a reason. Please, listen to me—"

But Tom had already made up his mind. He could see Slughorn was wavering, but there was something else—a flicker of fear. Fear was a weakness. And Tom wouldn't allow weakness to stand in his way.

"Tell me how to do it," Tom demanded, his tone hardening. "Or I'll find someone who will."

Slughorn's face was pale, his lips pressed tightly together as he struggled internally. It was clear that he didn't want to get involved, but Tom's relentless determination was beginning to break him down. Finally, he sighed deeply, defeated.

"Fine," he muttered. "A Horcrux... involves the act of murder. Killing someone, taking their life, and splitting your soul in the process. The spell... the ritual is complex, and it requires... well, it requires a piece of yourself to be destroyed in the process."

Tom's eyes shone with dark excitement. "Murder... The price of immortality. How fitting."

Ernesh, ever the silent and attentive shadow, felt the familiar surge of power as Tom's words settled in the room. He was nothing but a vessel for Tom's will, a loyal servant, waiting for the next instruction, the next step in their shared journey. His eyes flicked briefly to Tom, his heart racing as he considered the implications of what was being discussed.

Ernesh didn't speak. He never did, not unless Tom required it. But inside, his devotion was absolute, and the thrill of what was to come—what Tom would do next—sent a shiver down his spine. His body, a vessel for Tom's desires, hummed with anticipation, as if waiting for the next command.

The rest of the conversation blurred into the background as Ernesh's thoughts were consumed by the overwhelming presence of Tom, by the intoxicating pull that bound him to his master. All that mattered was Tom, and whatever dark path they would walk together.

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