If You Could See it Through My Eyes (Tom Riddle Fanfiction)

The New Professor is Pretty Cool. Literally.

I think I should explain myself a little as to why I'm not making Riddle more Voldemort-like. He's still fifteen, so he isn't as stoic and emotionless. Also, if you noticed with his "Slytherin friends", he acted more like his canon self. And, I feel like, if he had had at least one friend before he went to Hogwarts, he would still act like their friend, at least for the summer. Sorry if that doesn't make sense.

Azalea POV*

"Get up, you mashed marshmallow!"

Azalea groaned and rolled over, slipping her arms under the pillow. Even though the Slytherin dormitories were underground, there was a magic window that gave an astounding view of the grounds outside. Azalea wasn't quite sure how it worked, but the sunlight that slipped in from the window seemed very real to her, as well as a breeze that wafted through the room, giving the air the smell of autumn. She breathed in deeply, relishing the scent, before getting her blankets ripped off of the bed. Azalea grunted as she jerked her body into the fetal position to try and block out the cold.

The voice, who Azalea now recognized as Chandra, shrieked again, "Get up! You're going to be late!"

"What's a marshmallow?"

"A delicious Muggle food. "Now get up!"

Azalea heard Walburga mutter something incoherent from beside her, shifting in her bed.

"No, it is not Saturday! It's Friday, and there's only thirty more minutes until class starts!"

Azalea was up and out of bed in an instant, racing to the bathroom before the rest of her roommates would have time to comprehend what Chandra just said. She knew that if she didn't get her business done first, she would be waiting until tomorrow to get into the bathroom.

She internally cursed herself for not setting one of her alarm spells for this morning. It must have slipped her mind, she supposed, that they still had school today.

Quickly, Azalea did her business, carefully inspecting herself in the mirror before applying a small bit of lip gloss. Azalea didn't really consider herself too worried about her appearance, but she had to uphold her reputation on behalf of the Malfoy house- and appearance for the house was not to be taken lightly.

In fact, she recalled that the only reason that she could keep her hair the way it was- messy and short- was because of Abraxas. Father had originally been furious when he had discovered Azalea's hairstyle, but then Abraxas had intervened, assuring him that a mere hairstyle wouldn't ruin the Malfoy's reputation.

Azalea smiled sleepily at her reflection as she relived the memory, studying her hair in the mirror. She debated on whether or not to tame it, but then decided to leave it as it was. That is, before remembering the similarity between her hair and Fleamont's. Wincing, she scrunched up her face and with a popping sound in her ears, lengthened her hair. It wasn't too much of a difference; only a couple centimeters longer, but now, hopefully, there would be an obvious difference between her and Potter from the back.

Of course, I'm probably ten times shorter than he is now.

Druella's muffled voice came from the door. "Did you need your clothes?"

Azalea blushed. "Oops, yeah. Can you hand them to me?"

In response, the door opened a crack, and Azalea's uniform popped through the door.

She took her neatly folded clothes. "Thanks."

"No problem. But could you hurry up?"

Azalea rolled her eyes. "I'm almost done."