Sociopath
That no-blood Hadrian Eaden just keeps getting in the way of his plans and Tom can't get rid of him; the stupid Griffindor was like a piece of gum on the back of his shoe. And for the last time, he did not fancy the sociopath. Hadrian, on the other hand, was content to mess with the Slytherin perfect. [Sociopath!Harry, AU:1943, Harry/Tom Riddle][Scrapbook of Scenes][Slow updates]
Tom stared at the Griffindor, slightly unnerved.
It hadn't taken much for him and his 'friends' to corner the teen; all they'd had to do was wait for him to take his usual wandering walks around the school before they shoved a wand in his face and guided the group into an empty classroom. Tom would have laughed at how pathetically easy it was for the so called 'brave' Griffindor to surrender. He would have, if not for the relaxed shoulders, lazy half-lidded eyes and causal smirk that played the teen's lips. At first he thought that it was the usual Griffindor arrogance denying their disadvantage to themselves, however that normally evaporated once they were locked in one of the many dusty old rooms of the castle with 7 cloaked Slytherins. Of course, it could have be that Hadrian, the Griffindor, was –God forbid- 'braver' that the rest of his housemates. It was a plausible theory but something about the teen set Tom off edge. Had been since he'd transferred in the middle of his fifth year.
There was also the fact that Hadrian kept staring at Tom specifically, as if he knew who he was but that was preposterous.
"So," -Hadrian's harlequin green eyes bore into his, mocking him as if the cloak was not there- "what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting to?" The words rolled off the Griffindor's tongue; smooth and deep and much too relaxed for Tom's comfort.
He grit his teeth, but Avery beat him to the bite, "Watch your tongue, No-blood, because you won't be talking much longer if you don't."
Hadrian hummed casually, "What makes you say that?" His eyes never left Tom's.
"Well, we'd assume you wouldn't want any of this" –Tom slid a small black book from his robes- "getting out, now do you?"
That damnable smirk never left Hadrian's face.
"Actually, you're wrong" The Griffindor just crossed his arms as if he were humouring them. "Go on then, I don't care"
That nagging feeling at the back of his head intensified, not that he was actually going to give up so easily. "So you wouldn't mind if it ended up in the Minister's hand then?"
"Nope, not at all. I don't care"
"Stupid Mudbloo-" Avery was cut off as green eyes suddenly latched on to his form.
"167cm tall, 5th year Slytherin, size 7 shoes" –Avery shivered at the accuracy of Hadrian's analysis, how the teen could see all that from just a single glance- "slight lean to the left, tensed left arm, shoulder hitched; gotten any tattoos lately, Avery?"
The group's blood ran cold.
Avery shot off a cutting curse, one that carved into the stone where Hadrian had been standing.
"Touché. Judging from your reaction, I guess that, unlike me, you would mind if that little titbit wriggled its way to the Minsiter's ear." Hadrian looked Tom in the eye "-or perhaps Dumbledore's"
Tom glared back, fists clenching and a Cruciatus held back from his wand.