Duende || Tom Riddle

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One has never truly experienced awe if he's never met Tom Riddle - at least Nikita thinks so.

He's always in awe when being around Tom and he can't quite explain why. Is it his eerily perfect appearance? His posture which is radiating authority like it'd be the most normal thing on Earth? The strange absence of sweat?

Probably the last one.

Nikita likes to watch Tom, to listen to him, to just be part of his company even though he might not be recognized as one. There is some kind of cult around Tom, his closest friends are often treating him like a god, when missing Nikita's presence calling him even their 'lord'; however Nikita isn't a member of this elite club and he doesn't want to be one anyways. It is enough for him to be near Tom, listening to his delicate voice as if it was the most heavenly music.

Basically, Nikita likes to be around people, getting to know about all those unimportant tragedies which are happening in their boring lives, he loves to collect their dirty, little secrets without them even noticing because usually nobody is sparing him a second glance, all of them've got more or less used to his presence, so there are merely those who aren't looking at him at all really, stroking his sharp features only briefly, and those who are staring all too long, but not because they recognize him as the child prodigy he's been but because of his frory hair, his irids in the colour of half-frozen lakes and his teint, nearly resembling the colour of marble statues.

Who knows, maybe Nikita is meant to be dublicated with a statue, making the collection of gods finally complete. Another god with cold eyes and hard heart and inhuman abilities.

But over what would Nikita reign, of what should he be god? Of child prodigies and forced smiles? Busy childhoods and hours of practice? Or of self-chosen loneliness and secrets?

Better not the latter one - after all he knows nothing about Tom Riddle nobody else knows, nothing unusual, nothing inappropriate. But if you aren't even perfect in the fields you as a god are reigning over, you can't be a god and maybe this is the reason why there isn't golden ichor dripping out of Nikita's wounds when his Potions book is cutting him once more but the blood of mortals, as red as roses, its scent metallic and sweet.

Perhaps this is causing Nikita to spend his time with Tom even though he's hidden in the shadows and the Riddle boy's in the light, all spotlights directed at him, the star, who's always ready to perform. Maybe Nikita's intentions aren't just being near Tom because he's pretty and witty and blessed with this melodic voice of his but because he seems perfect, leaving Nikita in awe.

But nobody is perfect.

Nobody is.

It is possible that Nikita just wants to know about Tom's imperfections, the dark blood streaming down his hands, building pools of guilt he isn't feeling, the gaping hole in his with decaying darkness filled chest or the sweet poison dripping off his elegantly curved lips, maybe Nikita merely wants to look behind the façade of perfection to get to know the actual human being, who's struggling to breath behind the mask as it's getting strangled because nobody cares to ease the grip of the cadaverous fingers around his neck, but perhaps Nikita only wants to be around Tom Riddle because he's very likely the brightest student attending Hogwarts right now and in addition he also has a way with words - at least when he isn't talking to Nikita because he rarely seems to see the need of bewitching the blond.