Both obsessed/Tom Riddle (completed)

038 Tripping

Tw

It started with Slughorn, of course. His booming voice filled the dungeon classroom, cutting through the hum of bubbling cauldrons and the faint scrape of knives on chopping boards. The air was heavy with the scent of ground valerian root and crushed wormwood, but all Ernesh could focus on was the fat man at the front of the room, clapping his hands together.

"Now, now!" Slughorn began, his mustache twitching with excitement. "A special announcement, my dears! I've been granted the wonderful opportunity to take two of our most promising students on a potions excursion—an unparalleled learning experience, I assure you!"

The room fell silent, a collective breath held as everyone waited for the inevitable.

"I've thought long and hard about this," Slughorn continued, his eyes twinkling. "And I've decided that the two students who will accompany me are... Tom Riddle and Abraxas Malfoy!"

A murmur rippled through the class. Some groaned in disappointment, but most nodded knowingly. Of course it would be Tom. It was always Tom.

Seated beside him, Ernesh kept his expression blank. He had known this was coming. Earlier that morning, Slughorn had approached him first, offering him a spot on the trip.

"You'd benefit greatly from this," the professor had said, leaning forward conspiratorially.

Ernesh had declined without hesitation. "Someone has to stay," he'd said simply, his tone measured. "The castle needs watching."

Slughorn, already eager to move on to his next favorite student, hadn't pressed him. But Tom had.

"You didn't have to stay," Tom said later that day, as they walked toward the dungeons after dinner. His tone was light, almost teasing, but his dark eyes searched Ernesh's face.

"I did," Ernesh replied, his voice low. He didn't look at Tom, keeping his eyes fixed on the stone floor. "There are things here I need to keep an eye on. Things that could... shift, without the right hand on them."

Tom's lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. "Ever the dutiful one." His voice softened, rich with something deeper. "I trust you'll manage."

Ernesh wanted to say something more—to ask Tom not to leave, to tell him about the unease that had been clawing at his insides for days. But the words wouldn't come. His tongue flickered against his teeth, betraying his nerves, tasting the air like a serpent searching for prey.

The morning of Tom's departure was cold and gray, the sky choked with low-hanging clouds. They stood at the edge of the castle grounds, the carriages waiting just beyond. Abraxas Malfoy was already seated in one, his pale blond hair catching the muted light as he stared out the window.

Tom lingered, his gaze fixed on Ernesh. "You'll manage," he said softly.

"I always do," Ernesh replied, though the words felt hollow.

Tom stepped closer, his presence warm and grounding. His hand came to rest lightly on Ernesh's shoulder, and for a moment, the weight in Ernesh's chest seemed to ease. Then, with a swift motion, Ernesh pulled the small blade from his sleeve.

Tom didn't flinch. His dark eyes didn't even flicker as Ernesh pressed the edge of the blade to his throat, nicking the skin just enough to draw a thin line of blood. It welled up dark and thick, sliding down Tom's neck in a perfect ribbon before Ernesh caught it in a vial.

"Careful," Tom murmured, his voice edged with amusement.

Ernesh corked the vial, his movements precise despite the trembling in his hands. But then his instincts took over, a pull too strong to resist. His tongue flickered against his lips, and before he could think twice, he leaned in and dragged it along the shallow wound on Tom's throat.