I'll put them to bed, but they won't sleep
Man, it's been a while.
From prurient_badger's prompt: Blaise/Tom Riddle - Quixotic use of time turners. Though I'm not sure I managed to get the quixotic bit in there but there's definitely a time turner. Written in about an hour (holy shit!), unbetaed, title taken from a bit of a Death Cab for Cutie song.
Like Nothing at All
It was almost like a portkey but not quite, the stomach wrenching feeling was amplified somehow, but not. Blaise could just about feel the fabric of time moving around him, but it wasn't really feeling, more sensing, his body knew there was something going on that wasn't altogether normal but couldn't place it.
His mind knew there was something wholly unusual going on when the spinning stopped and he found himself face to face with a dark-haired, dark-eyed sneer not unlike his own.
Tom blinked once, twice, and yes, the figure that had just appeared in front of him was still there; a boy no older than himself, wearing a Slytherin uniform of sorts. There was something about the uniform that was a bit off, the cut of the robe, the stripes on the tie, the way the shirt hung off his shoulders. Maybe it wasn't just the uniform that was off. The other boy's fringe mostly obscured his eyes, shadow making the blue seem darker than it really was, darker than blue eyes should be.
Blaise stepped forward into the half lit corridor. It was late, he could feel the silence of the castle long after curfew gathering around him, waiting to squelch the sound of heel on stone as his foot came down, dampening the swish of robes. The other boy blinked then stared and Blaise stared back unblinking. There was something familiar about him like when you meet people you've never seen before in dreams and it's the most natural thing in the world.
"Blaise." he said, holding out his hand, offering his name to this familiar stranger in a Hogwarts that was not his own and not really knowing why.
The other boy took a step forward. "Tom."
Blaise could just make out the prefect badge, which almost looked like Draco's but not quite, as their hands met.
It was a perfunctory shake, and yet. And yet. Was that a middle finger gently running down Blaise's wrist? Did the other just take a step closer still? Was that not a fingernail scoring his wrist and a grip that seemed too tight for the short time it continued?
Tom grinned. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." The grin was far from friendly.
Blaise took an unintentional step back, the effects of time travel had obviously addled his brain. He'd never before set eyes upon someone who so resembled a snake, the intense darting eyes, the quick almost imperceptible movements, the feeling that the other boy - Tom, yes, Tom - was about to strike.
The Time Turner bumped against Blaise's chest as he moved and his hand came up to stop it's motion, twisting it a bit in his fingers.
And there was that sinking stomach wrenching feeling again, Tom's face blurring, receding, and words on the other's lips that Blaise could almost make out.
Blaise had nearly convinced himself that it had been a dream before he noticed the livid scratches on his wrist.
The way I figure it there is likely only one person out there who could unsettle Blaise without meaning too. I rather like the idea of that.
From prurient_badger's prompt: Blaise/Tom Riddle - Quixotic use of time turners. Though I'm not sure I managed to get the quixotic bit in there but there's definitely a time turner. Written in about an hour (holy shit!), unbetaed, title taken from a bit of a Death Cab for Cutie song.
Like Nothing at All
It was almost like a portkey but not quite, the stomach wrenching feeling was amplified somehow, but not. Blaise could just about feel the fabric of time moving around him, but it wasn't really feeling, more sensing, his body knew there was something going on that wasn't altogether normal but couldn't place it.
His mind knew there was something wholly unusual going on when the spinning stopped and he found himself face to face with a dark-haired, dark-eyed sneer not unlike his own.
Tom blinked once, twice, and yes, the figure that had just appeared in front of him was still there; a boy no older than himself, wearing a Slytherin uniform of sorts. There was something about the uniform that was a bit off, the cut of the robe, the stripes on the tie, the way the shirt hung off his shoulders. Maybe it wasn't just the uniform that was off. The other boy's fringe mostly obscured his eyes, shadow making the blue seem darker than it really was, darker than blue eyes should be.
Blaise stepped forward into the half lit corridor. It was late, he could feel the silence of the castle long after curfew gathering around him, waiting to squelch the sound of heel on stone as his foot came down, dampening the swish of robes. The other boy blinked then stared and Blaise stared back unblinking. There was something familiar about him like when you meet people you've never seen before in dreams and it's the most natural thing in the world.
"Blaise." he said, holding out his hand, offering his name to this familiar stranger in a Hogwarts that was not his own and not really knowing why.
The other boy took a step forward. "Tom."
Blaise could just make out the prefect badge, which almost looked like Draco's but not quite, as their hands met.
It was a perfunctory shake, and yet. And yet. Was that a middle finger gently running down Blaise's wrist? Did the other just take a step closer still? Was that not a fingernail scoring his wrist and a grip that seemed too tight for the short time it continued?
Tom grinned. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." The grin was far from friendly.
Blaise took an unintentional step back, the effects of time travel had obviously addled his brain. He'd never before set eyes upon someone who so resembled a snake, the intense darting eyes, the quick almost imperceptible movements, the feeling that the other boy - Tom, yes, Tom - was about to strike.
The Time Turner bumped against Blaise's chest as he moved and his hand came up to stop it's motion, twisting it a bit in his fingers.
And there was that sinking stomach wrenching feeling again, Tom's face blurring, receding, and words on the other's lips that Blaise could almost make out.
Blaise had nearly convinced himself that it had been a dream before he noticed the livid scratches on his wrist.
The way I figure it there is likely only one person out there who could unsettle Blaise without meaning too. I rather like the idea of that.