"she was the type of person who'd explain how she was going to stab you in the front before she actually shoved the knife in... and you'd let her.
she'd probably even pass the knife to you so you can shove it in your own chest...and you would."
tom...
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t h e n e x t week, Tom assumed that Evelyn had listened to him. His followers had complained that Evelyn was not willing to sneak around with them anymore. Tom had hexed Lestrange during his weekly Knights of Walburgis meeting when he made a snide comment to Avery about it being because Tom had demanded Evelyn stop. In between the multiple curses that Tom delivered, he reminded Lestrange that Tom was his Lord and, therefore, what he said went. Tom had relished how his followers had all nodded in devotion. Or fear.
Tom's satisfaction over the whole ordeal had been short-lived. When the weekly report came out, Tom hadn't bothered to look at first. He had always been at the top of the list, but then his followers had turned away from the sheet with confused expressions, all pointed at him. Tom had pushed himself through the boys to look, only to see that right above his name was Evelyn's. Tom didn't mean to look behind him in horrified anger, but he had. Evelyn's triumphant smile had beamed. She hadn't looked, but she had known. Known that she would be above him.
How had Tom not noticed this girl before? She clearly hadn't been this well at school before. Or maybe she had been just passable on purpose so as to not be on his radar. Now that she had run into him, was she ready to make his life a part of some game? Somehow, maybe she believed that ruining his reputation as the brightest student in Hogwarts was going to accomplish something.
She had taken the whole thing to the extreme when she had decided that sitting next to him was the next piece in her plan. The first couple of days, she had taken one look at whatever unlucky student had sat next to him and they had quickly packed up and found another seat. After that, the chair had just been left open for her. Tom had asked her if all of this was necessary, but Evelyn had only taken out her supplies, ignoring him completely. She didn't ever talk to Tom in class– even when he asked pointed questions– and it was making him furious.
The more she raised her hand in class or got perfect marks on her assignments, the more Tom wanted to start cutting off her limbs one by one. She was absolutely enjoying every minute of his torment and he could tell. Her plan of rubbing the fact that she was better than him in his face was solidly working. The worst part of the whole situation was that none of the professors seemed very surprised by Evelyn's rise in rank. They had known her potential long before she had begun showing off.
Tom could tell that Evelyn noticed every single one of his reactions. The tilt of her lips when he would clench his fists after she answered a question correctly, or transfigurations would be perfect the first time, was nothing short of sinister. Her eyes would sparkle whenever Tom was forced to congratulate her. He was sick of it.
There was a difference in potions, however. When Evelyn made her potions, there was a different satisfaction that came from successful brewing. She seemed proud of her work. No matter what they were brewing, she seemed to have already memorized a recipe that was far superior to the one in their textbook. Tom hadn't thought too hard about the difference between her potions smugness and her other class smugness. Not when Slughorn had started skipping over Tom's potion to go right to hers.
