Tom Riddle, perfect student, Head Boy, secret heir of Slytherin, was walking down the halls of Hogwarts. His 7th year had just begun, and he was going to savor his last year of magical development. After that, he'd most likely grow up to develop the magic of his students, maybe run for Prime Minister, perhaps become Headmaster of Hogwarts. He had a lot of potential, and plenty of ambition.
And that's what everyone else saw when they met him. They surely noticed his striking features, the way the girls hung off his arm and the boys off his words. Many a witch and wizard had fallen for him, and yet none had caught his eye.
Only his closest friends knew how dangerous he could be. When he lost his temper, they knew to give him a wide berth, as they all knew very well by now that he didn't care about anyone's well-being, especially when he went into one of his rages.
Of course, he'd had many girlfriends. They couldn't resist the magical power radiating from him, the confidence and arrogance of an accomplished wizard. His prominent eyes standing out from his perfect, sharply-angled face. The way his hair was always perfectly swept across his forehead, providing a sharp contrast to his smooth, marble-statue skin tone.
Although he'd had many, he had cared for none of his girlfriends. Tom only dated them long enough to satisfy his needs and use them to his advantage. He never felt any need for a relationship that wasn't purely physical, and often kept very distant from his girlfriends once he effortlessly seduced them.
Tom was attracted to both boys and girls however. He saw no difference in demanding submission from a whimpering male's form than a female's. He didn't publicly date them though. He knew that girls looked prettier to the public adorned on his arm than boys. He simply used them as he would a girl and then never bothered looking their way again.
Tom had more than enough willing partners, but it was sometimes so much more delicious to force himself on someone. He took much pleasure in cornering witches in forgotten alleys. Rip their clothes from their body, sink into them as they screamed and struggled uselessly, while whispering into their ears that he owned them.
He had taken many beautiful boys as well, deep in the bowels of pureblood dungeons, where their screams could only be enjoyed by himself; although sometimes he also allowed chosen friends, and others that were meant to be punished as well, hear their cries of agony.
Tom really had no qualms when it came to private relationships. They could be mudbloods and blood traitors to beat with cruelty, or purebloods to taste and play sadistic games with. Sometimes Tom liked to disgrace virgins, and other times, to humiliate whores. He didn't always beat his partners into submission though; sometimes he liked a fight, a whore that was not completely broken. He often killed or obliviated them once he had broken them, for Tom had never had a long-term slave before, as he did bore easily.
Tom liked variety, and he differed in his domination. Sometimes his more sadistic manners showing, and other times, his charisma, as he seduced his victim, consensually or not. He was consistent with one thing though. He always left his victims used, humiliated, confused, and yet filled with a strange longing for the handsome boy that had forced them, and sometimes simply seduced them. Even his consensual partners, of which he had many, were left broken-hearted and yet still hoping. Because that was just the effect young Tom Riddle had on them.
Tom was drinking in the whispers that followed him. Girls elbowed each other as they smoothed out their hair, ex-girlfriends looked at him with longing, and boys and girls alike nattered to each other about his magical prowess. He held back chuckles as he silently observed their idolizing stars with an indifferent look of amusement he allowed to show through his mask of calmly-collected emotions.
First-years, seventh-years, boys, girls, Gryffindors, and Slytherins alike all watched him with envy, admiration, respect, and some with lust. He passed an observant eye over them as he strutted down the halls of Hogwarts.
"Elaine," a small girl whispered, "that's Tom Riddle, Head Boy!"
"Look at him," a burly Gryffindor complained loudly to his buddy, "if he decides to join in on the team, we're done for!"
"Hey Silvia," a Ravenclaw boy whispered to a girl he was trying to impress, "rumors say that the Slytherin Team Captain is willing to give up his post to Tom if he'd agree to play seeker ."
"I bet we'd be great friends if I was only the same age as him," pouted a little first-year Slytherin boy that looked even smaller than most of the barely-sorted students.
Tom couldn't contain his amusement at this, and turned to glance at the boy who had been pouting to his friend.
The little boy seemed to notice someone was watching him and tilted his head up to meet Tom's gaze. Riddle was caught by surprise and couldn't hold back a gasp. The younger Slytherin was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
He had perfect blonde hair that fell around his head like a halo. It was almost pure white and looked soft to the touch. Tom longed to reach out and feel his fingers run through the silky strands. His face still had a baby-like soft roundness to it and his skin was, like Tom's, soft and smooth, but much less angular and sharp.
But Tom was used to holding in his emotions, and he took this slight slip-up in stride, scanning the crowd to make sure no one had heard his sigh. The little boy was looking at him with curiosity, an emotion that seemed beautiful crossing his fragile-looking face. Tom was filled with a fierce, primitive desire to own him, to make him his private toy, to break him, and to lick the shining tears from his cheeks. Tom longed to feel his vulnerable little body squirm under his as he drove his cock into an orifice that was much too small. To hear this angel's voice wracked with pain as he begged him to stop. To hear that same voice beg for more after Tom had abused him, and filled him with his essence.
With surprise, Tom realized as he was rounding the corner to get to his Potion's class that his cock had grown hard, in public, no less. This hadn't happened to him involuntarily since he had first gone through puberty, and he'd gained control over these situations before anyone had ever noticed what was happening to his body. It had been over the summer, at the orphanage, and he remembered cornering a muggle and making her suck him off when he'd first discovered the joys of original sin.
After that, he made her take off her clothes, and explored her pubescent body with his growing hands, touching her breasts and then sticking some of his fingers into her vagina. She started crying then, and he put one of his fingers in her mouth before forcing it up her arsehole, enjoying the friction as he slid it up past her resistances. Tom thought he had heard someone coming then, so he zipped up his pants, threatened her against telling anyone, and ran outside, enjoying the freedom of adolescence.
Tom snapped out of his reverie and entered the classroom, walking swiftly to the back of the classroom and discreetly casting a glamour on himself, to prevent any public embarrassment. He took his parchment and quill out as the bell of the Hogwarts clock rang, signaling the start of another hour. Tom idly started writing down notes as he thought back to the Sorting. He had paid attention to all the names that had been called and sorted into Slytherin and all the names that belonged to old pureblood families. He tried to remember back to the little boy's name being called.
Tom always had an amazing memory, and finally it came to him. The little boy was the Malfoy heir. Lucius Malfoy, if he recalled correctly. Tom allowed himself a satisfied smirk, before pulling his emotions behind his mask again. He began to outline his plan for taking the boy, in any way necessary. He'd stop at nothing, and would bring the Malfoy bloodline to a screeching halt if he had to.
And if little Lucius refused to be seduced within a reasonable amount of time, then Tom would force him. He was very well practiced at using magic as a tool of coercion, and using threats and promises of power for extortion and manipulation. He could always alter the boy's memory later if it came to that, and Tom had been practicing to make his Imperius curse completely untraceable, so he was well prepared to execute a backup plan, if need be.
But for now, Tom decided, as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, he needed to find someone to take care of his little problem.
Well, that's it for the first chapter, please review, because encouragement is always welcome on works-in-progress. And also, I know that the ages are a little off for Lucius to have gone to school with Voldemort, but this is my story, and I could claim that Voldemort tap-danced with Dobby on the weekends in gay strip clubs if I wanted to. So I think a little skewing is perfectly fine. Thank you for reading.