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Tom would never let it show but he was slightly unnerved.
He had felt Potter’s eyes following him around for days and he still didn’t know why the boy deemed him suddenly worthy of his sole attention. Neither Potter nor Tom took part in the usual Gryffindor-Slytherin squabbles but it never bodes well when a Lion paid too much attention to a Snake.
It was bad enough that his associates started to notice it too, he couldn’t let the word spread around. Potter was shy and usually rather silent, easy to dismiss. Tom wouldn’t have paid him any mind if the boy hadn’t managed to gather a broad circle of friends across all houses, even in Slytherin. It was astounding.
Of course, there were also other instances that didn’t allow Tom to just dismiss the other boy. Even Tom had to appreciate the ruthless way Potter played Quidditch. It was to the other players’ fortune that the boy was an excellent Seeker and didn’t aspire to play any other position. With how efficient he was in maiming his opponent by simply outflying them as Seeker, a position without direct contact with other players, Tom could only fathom what havoc Potter would wreck as a Beater.
He wondered idly if the shy and meek boy was the mask or if it was the ruthless menace. But it didn’t matter either way.
“Potter!”
It had needed some luck but finally, Tom had managed to get Potter alone. He had to stay back for some Quidditch exercises - Tom would never understand how someone could voluntarily fly on a stick through such weather but well, the wet clothes clung nicely to Potter’s body and would hinder him if it came to the worst and they were to duel - and all Tom had to do was to wait near the entrance hall and intercept him.
The other boy startled at the sudden sound of his name and stumbled when he abruptly looked to the side where Tom stood waiting. He was a Gryffindor so all subtlety would be lost on him. Tom’s best chance was to be bold.
“I noticed you following me around and I want to know why.”
Potter spluttered like people are prone to do when called out on their behaviour and flushed an impressive bright shade of red.
“I don’t follow you around! You ambushed me just now!”
Tom scoffed, Potter wore his every thought openly on his face. It would be impossible for him to deceive Tom. All Tom had to do was to trick him into admitting why he followed him around.
“You don’t need to worry, Potter.” Tom leered slightly, “You’re neither the first who took ages to gather their confidence to confess their eternal love for me nor will you be the last. I’m just surprised it takes you so long. Even little Ginerva Weasley had grown out of her stalker habits and just went over with her confession more quickly than you.”
Potter scrunched his nose in distaste.
“I’m not in love with you.”
“Sorry, darling, I don’t think I can believe you. Your actions are rather incriminating, you see?”
“Don’t accuse me like that openly in the corridor without any reason?!”
The smaller boy stomped with his feet and pointed with his broomstick accusingly at Tom. He could paint the picture of an irritated teenager all he liked, but the colour high on his cheeks betrayed him.
“No reason? Then why were you following me around?”
“I know what-“ Potter blurted out just to catch himself by slapping his free hand over his mouth, watching Tom with wide terrified eyes as all of the previous colour left his face.
Tom narrowed his eyes. Potter knew what?
He had hidden enough skeletons in his closet that the possibilities were almost endless. And while nearly none of them were dangerously bad, some were just bad enough to justify an attempt of stealing the memories from the other boy's mind, so he wouldn’t be able to tell on Tom. Dumbledore was a nuisance without some Gryffindor bringing more ‘facts’ to his ears.
Tom took some slow steps towards the other boy who maintained their distance by stepping back in turn until his back hit a wall and Tom crowded him against it, propping one forearm over the smaller boy's head to bend down more comfortably as he pried Potter’s hand from his mouth and pressed it next to his head against the wall. Potter’s eyes darted between Tom’s with an occasional flick down to his lips.
Interesting.
“And what, pray tell, do you think you know, Potter?”
The colour Potter had lost flushed back into his face, leaving it almost glowing in the dim corridor. He tried to look everywhere but Tom but it was near impossible with how close they were standing. Tom wouldn’t allow Potter to weasel away before he knew exactly what it was that he knew.
“Uhm- I-“
Tom bent further down and brought his face to the crock of Potter’s neck, nosing along his jaw and down to the pulse line, feeling it drumming in primal fear. Potter was too well-liked for Tom to threaten him more openly, it had to be enough to make him aware just how vulnerable he was in face of Tom’s wrath.
“Hmmm, you?”
There was no need for Tom to speak loud. He breathed the words dangerously low against the skin of Potter’s throat, confident that he would hear Tom just fine. The audible swallow proved his assumption right.
“I kn- I know whattheycallyou.”
Potter pressed the words out in a rush, nearly too fast for Tom to understand, but when they registered in his mind, his head snapped back up and the intensity in his eyes was enough to let Potter’s breath hitch.
“And what do they call me?”
Tom didn’t know who ‘they’ were or which name could be interesting enough to gather Potter’s attention in such a way. No one dared to call him slurs based on his assumed blood status or his muggle name anymore, and Tom didn’t think one of his Knights had dared to let Lord Voldemort slip. They knew better than that. At least Tom hoped they did - for their own sake.
Potter just continued to stare wide-eyed and flushed into Tom’s face without saying anything further. That wouldn’t do. Tom shifted his stance to take his forearm off the wall, closing his hand lightly around Potter's throat instead, tipping his head back while peering deep into his suddenly half-lidded eyes, intended to catch every lie before it was even built.
“You were saying?”
Potter seemed distracted, he obviously didn’t take the situation seriously enough. Tom pressed down with his thumb to put pressure on Potter’s pulse point and stress just how serious he was.
Impressively, Potter’s blush deepened even further as his breath hitched again and he squirmed between Tom’s frame at his front and the wall in his back.
“I heard they- they call you-“
Tom leaned further in. He didn’t care for the moisture of Potter’s clothes that seeped into his own upon the contact. This was too important.
“Yes?”
Potter closed his eyes in defeat and Tom watched hungrily as his jaw set stubbornly and he gathered the courage that had put him into Gryffindor.
“Anaconda.”
Tom’s world halted for the second he needed to reevaluate the situation at hand. Of course, Tom knew about the name, he always had made a point to know what the rumour mill said about him - knowledge was power. It didn’t even matter how one looked at it, this particular nickname always fit him. He was a Slytherin. He was a Parselmouth. He crushed everyone who dared to wake his ire.
Nonetheless, none of these things were what had gotten him the name.
“Do you know why they call me that?”
It was apparent Potter did. All the signs had been there from the start but Tom had been too caught up in possibilities to put them into the right perspective. Even so, Tom smirked when Potter squirmed in place and nodded wordlessly.
Tom stopped the other boy’s movement effectively by taking a half step between his feet, pressing his thigh all but against Potter’s groin. They were so close now, that Potter in turn could feel where the name was coming from, as his gasp proved.
“And… why have you been following me around, Potter?”
Potter’s groin brushed against his thigh as he twitched, it was obvious he was on the verge of squirming again but too afraid of the consequences.
“I’m- I’m not in love with you.” Potter’s nose scrunched up again, it was almost adorable how it let his glasses jump. “But I’m- uh-“
“Mmmh? I think, Potter, we are in a position where you can tell me everything.”
Potter’s eyes fluttered closed as Tom tightened the grip around his throat for a moment to emphasize his statement. When Potter opened his eyes again, they seemed feverish.
“I have waited for an opportunity to ask you to fuck me.”
Tom hummed pleased.
It had been some time since someone had been bold enough to ask and brave enough to follow through when Tom accepted. The ones who knew this particular name of his beforehand tended to underestimate its truth, and those who didn’t know it - they were grossly unprepared to handle him at all.
“Did you? I guess we aren’t that far away from the prefects’ bath. We could get you out of these wet and cold clothes, hm?”
Tom felt the pulse beneath his thumb stutter and then speed up as he watched Potter’s eyes glaze over.
“Oh Merlin, yes please.”
Tom grinned shark-like as he grounded his thigh once noticeable against the hardened bulge in Potter’s trousers before he stepped back and pulled the other along on the hand that he had snatched off Potter's mouth in the beginning and never let go off.
The boy was a Gryffindor.
Tom was confident, he wouldn’t back out even when he realized just how fitting the name was Tom had gotten from his reluctantly impressed dorm mates.