As the professor continued to spout information that everyone in the class would forget within the hour, Harry stared at Riddle.
He wasn't shy about the intensity at which he viewed the older boy, and to be fair, Riddle stared back just as much.
Their eyes just seemed to gravitate to one another.
Harry could vividly remember the other day at dinner. Riddle had been sitting at the Slytherin's table, Harry at Gryffindor's, and although both of them had been surrounded by large groups of people, and the Great Hall was louder than ever, Harry Potter saw nothing but Tom Riddle.
It was a painful thing, the beauty that Riddle was.
Sometimes Harry didn't think it was fair that the boy had been gifted such looks and then threw it back in Merlin's face while on his quest for immortality. But that was Voldemort, and this was Harry's Riddle, here and now, who had yet to lose his looks and seemed to know that he was beautiful.
And what was Harry to do but stare.
He now had a better view of the boy then what he had in the diaries memories and Harry planned on abusing the new angles that were on display.
Every since he got thrown back into the past, Harry had given up on trying. Trying life, trying school, and trying to care. Being the chosen one came with a cost, and Harry found that it costed him his concerns.
Now, he was in a time where no one knew him and he was free to make his own decisions. And one of these decisions, it seemed, was to become as obsessed with Tom Riddle as Voldemort had been with Harry.
The insanity of it made Harry wheeze.
Regardless though, he found himself trailing after the older boy when class was finally dismissed, not really knowing where he was or why he was following him.
After passing many other students and a great deal of abandoned classrooms, Riddle finally stopped moving. Slowly, the boy turned around, an amused gleam shadowing his eyes.
"You are aware that what you are currently doing could be considered stalking, yes?"
"What?" Harry answered confused.
"This," Riddle gestured outwards, "following me around everywhere like you have nothing better to do."
"I don't have anything better to do."
Riddle paused for a moment, "Are you completely sure, Harry? We did just get an essay assigned for Transfigurations. Or were you not paying attention?"
Harry was aware that that was Riddle informing him the he knew Harry had been staring at him.
'Good,' Harry thought, 'Riddle should pay just as much attention to me as I do to him.'
"Umm, no. I really wasn't paying attention. I was actually looking at a rat in the classroom."
Irritation joined the amusement.
"Pardon? What did you just say, Harry?" Riddle spoke.
"Nothing. Would you like to work on that essay with me, Riddle?"
The boy contemplated that question for a moment. Then, straightening his bag on his shoulder, he came to a decision.
"Fine, but you do not touch the parchment and I make the final call on what is written."
"Deal," Harry smiled, mostly because when Riddle tried to be all controlling, he got this little look on his face that Harry found adorable.
"Deal." Riddle began walking past Harry and towards the library. When he pasted, he looked down at Harry with a challenging glint in his eyes, and maybe, just maybe, something a little bit fond.
Harry, retracing his steps from earlier, followed him blindly.
As he did, Harry thought, 'It really isn't fair how pretty Tom Riddle is.'
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