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THE FIRST WEEK OF CLASS IS- PREDICTABLY- DULL. Tom is already at the top of his class, even only after a few days.
His only competition for the bragging rights of the top academic student is a prickly little Ravenclaw whose nose is coated in shite. Tom is overeager, and sometimes he does kiss up to his professors, but at least he has his dignity.
He is hoping for more excitement, something to differentiate his final year at Hogwarts- the last year before his plan can fully come to fruition- but the excitement he seeks has been taken from him.
Taken by a particular Spanish witch with too-long hair, chocolate doe eyes, and a nasty distaste for him.
He hasn't been able to talk to Rosamaria, and it's eating at him. It's not like they don't see each other plenty, they do have the same classes after all, but she's been avoiding him like the Dragon Pox. He'll think he has her cornered, but the second he looks away, she's gone. She's been eating her lunches and dinners at different times than he has, and he's suspecting that she purposefully goes in extra early to avoid seeing him.
It's maddening, and it's beginning to piss him off, and if anybody knows anything it's that you don't piss off Tom fucking Marvolo Riddle.
There in Potions right now, Tom's specialty and he is still exceedingly annoyed that Slughorn won't let him partner with Rosamaria.
Well, old boy, Cygnus is a lost cause, isn't he? I think he needs the guidance of my best student.
Tom had given him a begrudging smile and watched as he paired Rosamaria with Madelina, which wasn't the worst-case scenario since he's sure he can get the overtly-kind Slythering to talk.
Tom's gaze is focused on his Draught of Living Death which will no doubt come out as perfection. He is just in the middle of preparing the sloth brain when Cygnus's annoying chatter interrupts his focus, and the brain slips through his finger.
"Oh, sorry!" Cygnus flusters, leaning down to pick the slimy thing off the floor, smiling gingerly as he brushes away the dust on it. "Five-second rule, yeah?"
Tom groans as he continues his preparation, muttering a quick cleaning spell under his breath. "Remind me why I've allowed you to be my partner when anyone else could suffice?"
"I'm sorry, Tom," Cygnus mumbles, scratching the back of his neck as he looks down at the floor. "I didn't mean to bump into you. I've just been all worked up today."
Tom sighs. People. They always so desperately need to voice their useless problems, and his Knights are no exception. He knows the Cygnus is fishing for Tom's concern- of which he has none- but he relents before the acne-riddled teen bursts into tears, he'll be more tolerable if he's not dripping snot and clutching his robes.
