He Played a Good Guy in his Role
Strong arms pulled Tom into the small alcove, a groan falling from his lips as his back hit the wall.
"Crows," He hissed, fingers grappling at finely tailored silk robes. Faint music sounded further down the hall while a tongue traced the edge of his ear, causing shivers down his spine. His eyes fluttered closed, "We are in public."
Crows didn’t immediately respond, and merely grabbed Tom's jaw to force upwards so that teeth could tease at the exposed, pale skin beneath. "No one will come here. You cast Notice-Me-Not Charms the moment I pulled us aside."
Frustration bubbled in the Slytherin’s chest, yet he forced it down. Focus, Riddle. "Crows-" He tried again before the grip on his chin tightened, cutting him off out of mere habit as bright amethyst eyes narrowed in warning.
“Interesting,” The pureblood muttered, his tone belying a dangerous note, as ruby eyes widened in surprise. “How I'm Raiden in private, yet Crows anywhere else… while Lord Malfoy is Abraxas regardless of location.”
Ah. So that's it.
Tom’s mouth felt dry as his mind scrambled a mile a minute to find something to say.
"We are not fucking in Malfoy's house," He stated finally, voice quivering far too much for his liking. "-Simply because you are jealous."
Raiden raised a brow as he lowered himself down into a kneel. "If you don't like it, then stop me." He responded, deceptively light, and Tom shuddered.
It was a challenge, His pride whispered.
It was a trap,His instincts screamed.
The pureblood purred when he did not respond, eliciting another, pleasured shiver down Tom’s spine. Raiden pulled off his tie, hooking it around the metal brace of the light above, which had suspiciously dimmed since they arrived.
Tom’s eyes darted towards the noise of the party down the hall, while Raiden moved to yank the Slytherin’s trousers down and off without hesitation, shoving the free end of the tie into Tom’s hand.
“Hold it, tightly.” Raiden commanded, though there was no real need to when he was hefted off the ground. Crows threw one of Tom’s legs over his shoulder, placing a hand under the other knee to further spread the halfblood out.
"Be a good boy and moan loudly for me, won’t you?"
Merlin, Tom clutched tightly onto silky black strands with his free hand, a groan spilling from his lips while Raiden worked. How did he get here…?
…
Tom Riddle held high standards.
So when Headmaster Dippet had announced the coming of a new Alchemy professor to the Hogwarts Staff, he had been intrigued. Alchemy was a delicate yet powerful art that few could lord superiority in. Even fewer than that, were the alchemists who lived in Britain willingly. (Dumbledore was not included in this assessment, even if he was dead now, for clearly the older man had been battier than his robes on Hallow’s Eve.)
Alas, Tom should have known better than to have expectations, especially when Dippet was involved in the hiring process.
“Oh, I’m sorry! Truly, I-” The man in front of Tom fumbled, as if it were the Slytherin’s clothes that were now soaked with coffee and not his own. Tom watched, forcing his polite smile to stay, no matter how strained it became with each fumble the new professor made.
Raiden Crows was, undoubtedly, beautiful. A man of Japanese and Russian descent, he was ridiculously tall, and lithe in a way that would make many dieting actresses jealous. A few tiny scars littered the skin of his face, but it did nothing to derail one’s notice of the long lashes of his monolid eyes, or the bright purple of his irises. Fluffy, jet-black curls and full, flushed lips that would pull into a nervous little smile. Oh yes, it would be surprising if the man didn’t manage to win over the hearts of the entire Hogwarts population in the next few years, and melt away any suspicion caused by the remnant paranoia of the war.
But…
Tom barely contained his eye roll when Crows tripped near the stairs, again, causing Slughorn to hurriedly yank him back, again, lest they would find themselves removing Alchemy from the list from the lack of professors who were alive to teach it.
(“Sounds like an absolute weapon.” Rosier snorted when Tom met with him and the others later on that day. It was an accurate assumption.)
It seemed that Crows only proved to be as utterly vapid as he was clumsy. A sentiment that only proved more and more correct as the years went on. While Crows never had an incident while teaching, there had always some story circulating from the students of how the Alchemy Professor managed to blow himself up again, or how he tripped down the stairs for the tenth time that week when it was only Wednesday.
Eventually, however, the student's gossip and concern of Crows most recent fumbles faded to nothing more than a casual, passing comment from most, and sighs followed by a hand reaching for the healing salves from others.
Knock Knock Knock Knock.
Essentially, Raiden was much like how crows themselves had the reputation as death omens, yet proved just enough intelligence to make silly dances or visit their parents’ nest every so oft. Commendable, intelligent, and perhaps worthy of some note, but in the end, they did not exactly meet expectations.
The only thing that really caught Tom’s attention was Crow’s daughter, who transferred to Hogwarts when her father did, when she was sorted into Slytherin. Rightfully so, considering how often she would finely manipulate the system to cause the staff the most amount of stress without getting in any legal or academic trouble.
Knock Knock Knock Knock.
She had excellent potential: Tom noted her down to help further her talents, as to gain favors from her in the future.
Knock Knock Knock Knock.
Other than that, Crows was effectively useless, another lamb in the flock. Thus, Tom would give to his coworker what he gave to the rest of his non-puppetable peers; A polite and friendly, yet otherwise distant colleague, may be willing to help for a favor or two like any other person.
At least the non-puppetable lambs provided excellent cover, despite their individual risks. Since they were not useful in magic, politics, or knowledge, he had no reason to extend their life to manipulate or convince them to bend their knee. Other than giving them a friendly smile or perhaps an aloof soothing when distressed, he had no reason to go out of his way and keep them alive for very long should the situation arise.
KnockKnockKnockKnock.
“Riddle!!”
…Though, considering it was one of his followers that seemed keen to harass him so early in the morning, during summer vacation of all things, he was starting to debate the need to “keep them alive for very long” as well.
KnockKnockKnockKnock.
Well, at least, it must be one of his followers. His neighbors had learned long ago never to bother him at early afternoon, much less in the morning, and this particular apartment was not known by anyone in the Hogwarts staff. Either way, the knocking was steadily driving him closer and closer to the brink of mass homicide.
“Riddle you’ll never believe this!”
KnockKnockKnockKnockKnockKnockKnockKnockKnockKnockKnockKnockKnock-
Tom threw open the door with a vindictive violence that he could not express otherwise in a legal manner, ruby eyes blood-shot and promising death.
“Lestrange.” Tom hissed through clenched teeth. “It is 4:30 in the morning. Unless you have discovered the secret to bloody immortality, you have five minutes to run and several hours until I wake up again to find a way back into my good graces.”
Instead of cowering as he should have for invoking the wrath of Heaven, Hell, and Earth, Lestrange merely gave Tom a smug, crooked grin. “But that’s the thing, Riddle! I did.”
…What?
“What?” He repeated out loud, and the older Slytherin gently pushed his way into Tom’s abode and closed the door.
“The secret to “bloody immortality,” I’ve found it. Well, I suppose it would be more accurate to say I’ve found someone who holds it.” Lestrange replied, making himself comfortable in Tom’s kitchen and grabbing some grapes from the ice box. “I was passing through Diagon Alley when I overheard a man talking to his daughter about his research.” He explained eagerly, keeping his voice low. “Apparently, he’s been working on figuring out the exact requirements to not only create an alchemist’s stone, but to improve it.”
“Improve it?” The brunet perked up, walking over.
“Yeah. The Elixir of Life only stops you from dying entirely, but it doesn’t keep you from aging like a grape to a raisin, now does it? ” The pureblood shrugged, before popping a grape into his mouth and making a face. “Ugh, these are mingin’, did these go bad? Why did you keep them? Blergh. Anyway, His plan is to boost the effectiveness of the longevity aspect, and while the recreational area had not yet been entirely sorted out, he’s already finished and researched how to make the stone itself.”
This… This was indeed fantastic news. Tom licked his lips in anticipation, tilting his head. “Did you confirm it?”
“Yes, I’ve also checked with the Research department, he’s already submitted his ideas to Nicholas Flamel, though for obvious reasons, neither of them have released any other information. I even talked to him myself! Made it seem like it was out of mere enthusiasm for the craft, and he admitted to it. Asked me not to go about telling anyone else.” The other man grinned wildly, “Which, if you weren’t here, I’d likely have done it.”
“Excellent-” Tom started, before he was cut off by Lestrange’s continued rambling.
“Handsome bloke he is. If I were to bend the other way, I’d have definitely sent a declaration of intent or two.”
“That-”
“Honestly, I still might, when it’s all said and done. I’d need to work it out, but I might be able to marry him and contract some foreign pureblood to act as surrogate to take care of any heirs for my end. I’d offer a blood-adoption, but his daughter had already passed the safest age for it, and handsome or not, he might murder me if I did something bad to his family. Just gives me that feeling, ya know?”
“Lestrange-”
“Then again, this is all banking on the idea he’ll say yes. He might say no. Might be one of those that only marries for true love or something. Then again, he is a pureblood, so he might be open to the idea…”
Morgana, give me patience not to strangle this man.
“His name, Sebastian.” Tom forced the other’s attention, gripping the edge of the counter. “What. is. his. name?”
“Hm?” His follower blinked. “Oh, its Crows. Raiden Crows.”