Tom riddle had no idea what the two of you were. Or how you two even were something for that matter. The seemingly never stopping situation had been as confusing as it had been pleasant (for the most part), you were his, but you were not his.

No one was ever his, just as he was never someone’s.

The idea of you with someone else irked him beyond measure, even if it upset him that he would be like that. He was also was cold, distant, he never had anyone to care for nor did he want to, so with this suddenly but not suddenly happen it was almost as if he got drunken on the thought of having you as his even if you weren’t his.

Everyone who was anyone knew it was not within him to progress anything with you either, to actually be something.

Merlin he was Tom fucking Riddle! commitment was a concept he was haunted by; His reputation would be over if he expanded your relationship beyond the Cold, but seemingly comforting confines of his dorm.

"Why were you engaging with that-" Tom words abruptly halted, his brows furrowing in mild ire as he continued allowing you run your fingers through his neatly combed back brown curls (he would never admit it, not over his dead body, but he enjoyed the feeling.). “That filthy mud blood.” He hissed out as he looked down at you.

"you know i don't like it when people look at you like that." the slytherin added, a huff escaping his throat as he shifted to sprawl more thoroughly on his large bed, the silky black sheets rustling under him.