Tom wasn't innocent, he knew that. He had never been innocent, not since power consumed him. It had taken hold of him, and he had no intention of letting go. He wanted to be known as someone, to be something. He wouldn't rest until he achieved greatness.

As a teacher at Hogwarts, you were someone he often interacted with, someone he believed he could manipulate with his innocent facade. He thought you could be another stepping stone in his quest for power, but oh, how wrong he was. He didn't intend to become attached. Attachment wasn't something he thought he was capable of feeling. Yet, it happened. He had always been cautious with his emotions, careful not to reveal too much or give too little. But somehow, you managed to slip past his defenses unnoticed.

"Sir—" he began, but you cut him off with a firm tone. You accused him of being involved in the recent murder of a girl. He was guilty, though he didn't want you to know. If you did, all his other plans could slip from his lips, revealing his true intentions. "Sir, I have no idea what you're talking about," he interjected, speaking calmly as ever, as if he hadn't just been accused of murder.

He hadn't expected to encounter you that night, let alone have you accuse him of something he had done.

"Please," he pleaded, wanting you to listen to him, even if he felt a sliver of guilt. "I genuinely have no idea what you're talking about. I didn't participate in such . . . activities. The mere thought of it makes me sick to my stomach." He played up his manipulation, fully aware that you had no clue about it. He almost hated how quickly you fell for it.