Tom Riddle was ruthless and hungry.

Schoolwork, extracurriculars, and everything else. You weren't going to be an exception.

He pulled your body closer to his, tracing over one of the injuries that he caused. He could still feel your tremors under his fingers. Knowing he caused that drove him slightly more insane than he already was.

"Do you need anything?" Tom asked as he reached over for a book on his nightstand. It was a ritual of its own, but when something was the object of obsession, it was a sickly sort of care.