I. The Origin of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion

Word count: 769

Many thanks to my fabulous beta Sunset-Whispers and for the lovely aesthetic, as well!

If there was one way to describe Tom Marvolo Riddle, the only word suited for him in the dictionary would have to be the word perfect. From his glossy hair that resembled the color of black ink from a tilted piece of parchment which seemed to defy gravity, to his flawless, alabaster skin with veins running like connected rivers across sculpted cheekbones, down to his straight, white teeth that could literally blind the eyes when he smiled.

Poor Abraxas Malfoy fell victim to Tom's bony appendages when he suddenly flashed him his pearly whites one day in the Great Hall. He still didn't know the reason for Riddle's open mouthed smile. All he could remember was the light and the instant fear of going blind.

To this date, the blond boy was convinced the source of the blinding light came from some Divine Grace and swore he almost saw angels descending from heaven ready to take him to the next life because there was just no way someone could have that shiny teeth.

Even magic could not explain why no matter how much the wind howled on the school grounds or at the Quidditch pitch, his thick, luxurious hair always remained pristine as ever and not a single strand ever fell out of place.

Upperclassman Fleamont Potter wanted, no – demanded to unravel the secret that was Tom's hair but alas, the younger wizard would not allow him even a foot near his head after that incident.

Well, Potter took things a bit too far that time he jumped out of an empty corridor as Tom was doing his prefect rounds for the evening. The older boy had attacked him – well, actually his head, as fingers began greedily groping his hair in an attempt to dishevel his locks.

At first, Tom was too stunned to react before he gathered his bearings for he could not believe someone had the guts to actually do this to him – the Heir of Salazar Slytherin. He was not sure what surprised him more, the fact that the Head boy had been waiting for him in a deserted hallway or the fact that said Head boy had been massaging his scalp for more than three minutes now.

And even the words that came out of Potter's mouth in annoyance were more ludicrous than his irritating ministrations. "For Merlin's sake! Why does it still keep staying in place?"

Ever the master of manipulation, Tom grabbed Potter's wrist. His hold was not too tight and not too loose, just enough to convey a glimpse of his displeasure, and extricated the offending appendage from his person (before he might change his mind and hex this ignorant fool).

Tom wasn't sure if these wizards or witches had ever heard of shampoo or conditioner, though he was not going to share with Potter his favorite brand of hair product, especially a Muggle made one at that. He still had a perfect reputation to uphold.

"I may have read a book in the library about a potion capable of –" He critically eyed the hideous mop on top of Potter's head. "... taming hair."

He did not know why he was saying this. He had never researched anything related to hair whatsoever, in his entire life. Although, each lie that slipped past his tongue was so effortless he could almost convince himself already. It was perfect.

And from the look on Potter's face, he was completely rising to the bait.

"Really?" His face perked up from the sudden revelation.

"Oh yes," Tom added as he nodded seriously to the Head boy. "Lots and lots of information for every hair type you can imagine." He was dangling the imaginary carrot right in front of him. He was not even sure if a book like this existed.

Instantly, Potter's eyes lit up, and Tom could tell that a million ideas were running through his mind. So, before the older boy could respond, he quickly said, "You better hurry to the library to make sure it's still there. Professor Dumbledore frequently borrows the tome ever since all his auburn hair started turning grey."

"Then, I must go! Thanks for the tip, Riddle!" Fleamont waved goodbye and made a mad dash in the direction of the library.

As soon as the Head boy's form disappeared from view, the corners of Tom's lips lifted up into a wicked grin. One dimple crinkled as the skin dipped, exposing a set of impeccably aligned teeth.

Oh yes, Tom Riddle was the epitome of perfection even when he lied.