Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter series.
Warnings: Hinted slash
Note: Written for the Game of Life Challenge (Riddle Era, Walburga Black, Madam Puddifoot's, blind)
Pursuits, the Good and the Bad
"She's staring at you again."
Tom released an imperceptible sigh, already knowing that unfortunate fact ever since he first felt those heavily powdered eyes of Walburga Black slink over his form more than ten minutes ago.
"She has to be blind not to notice that I'm not interested in her continuous pursuits," Tom muttered lowly, staring intently at the words displayed before him.
"Yes, everyone else clearly sees that you already have your sights set on a certain short Slytherin."
Tom turned and glared at Abraxas who immediately held up his hands in placation.
"I do not fancy anyone," Tom sniffed. "There is simply no one worthy of my attentions."
The only thing that kept Abraxas from snorting was the years of proper Pureblood etiquette drilled into him since he was a child.
"Please, trust me, it was extremely difficult to believe that the great Tom Riddle was capable of even liking someone. But after being your friend, sorry, acquaintance," Abraxas corrected after seeing Tom's look, rolling his eyes, "for the last few years, I think I can tell when it looks like you want to pull him aside and have your dirty way with him."
"You should know, Abraxas," he hissed, "that I am barely restraining myself from hexing you right now."
"I'm only speaking the truth," Abraxas shrugged dismissively, sending a smug look his way.
Tom scowled, turning back to his book, making as if he gave up on the discussion before quietly saying, "I am telling Hadrian you called him short."
The startled thump of his friend falling off the armchair in shock had a smirk tugging at the corner of Tom's mouth as the Slytherin calmly sipped the tea he received from Madam Puddifoot's (the place had horrid decor, but the tea was rather pleasant). Abraxas should have known better than to think he had won; Tom always came out victorious in the end.