"If they dare touch a hair on your head, I'll fight to the last breath." — Hand in Glove (The Smiths)
TOM RIDDLE holding you so, so close—his arms wrapped around you as he hums. If you weren't feeling so terrible, you would notice his slender hands moving in a seemingly calculated manner as he strokes your hair. But as you continue to sob into his chest, you can't help but lose interest in your surroundings. In his arms, you feel wanted—a stark contrast from the usual treatment you get from others.
TOM RIDDLE frowning, his stern gaze focused distantly on the empty hallway. He hates seeing you cry, that is for certain, but he can't pinpoint exactly why. Why, in Merlin's green Earth, has he taken a liking to you?
TOM RIDDLE shaking his head to rid himself of his thoughts. When you briefly look up at him with your tear-stained eyes (perhaps concerned about how heavily he's breathing), his heart cannot help but flutter. Right then and there, he realizes: he has to protect you.
TOM RIDDLE holding you closer, his chin resting on the top of your head. As he grits his teeth, he thinks of all the curses he could potentially use against your tormentor.
TOM RIDDLE smirking, reminding himself of just how powerful he is—how much better he is (and, by extension, you are, too) than everyone else. He's eager to defend what is his; he is not afraid to get his hands dirty just to keep you pristine.
After all, who would suspect the perfect Slytherin prefect of doing such heinous things?
