Winded
Tom Riddle, despite his proclivity for violence and cold demeanor, was very popular with the ladies of Hogwarts. It was never hard for him to find a girl willing to follow him back to his room-or a closet, or an empty hallway, or anywhere, really-and let him do as he pleased.
It had become monotonous. The thrill of the chase had worn down to near nothing, and it wouldn't be long before he had to find a different vice to fill the ever hungrier demon inside of him.
Lillith Collins did not like Tom Riddle.
He was a conniving, evil little bastard. He used his "charm" and his "good looks" to claw his way to the top of the pecking order, and he had a superiority complex the size of an elephant because of it. He'd slept with her friends and discarded them, thinking himself deserving of someone better, and he didn't even bother to remember their names. He was just awful.
Yet, he thought he had an iota of a chance with her. It was honestly offensive. How could she, in a million years, ever lose enough self respect to sleep with him?
And why, oh dear God, why, did he keep trying?