Promised - Tom Riddle x reader

Part 13 - Pranks and Proper Paybacks ★

The quill in your hand scratched lightly over the parchment as you were taking notes for Astronomy in the library. It was quiet, as usual, except for the occasional questions and thereof resulting explanations between Ben and Camille. She helped him study for his upcoming Herbology exam, for which he clearly hadn't revised enough yet. Silly boy.

Tom was there too and sat next to you, completing the quartet round the table. He tried his best not to hiss at them every time Ben asked something. You noticed from the corner of your eye, how he gulped down every thought that built up in his head when another word poured from Ben's mouth. It was amusing, to say the least, seeing Tom battling with himself to keep his cool. He still didn't like Ben very much and would much rather study with you alone. But the fact that he had voluntarily sat down with the three of you, tried to behave and didn't yell at Ben whenever he opened his mouth, told you that he probably didn't hate him as much as he pretended to.

"So, about the Fluxweed again," Ben whispered, browsing through his book. "How many days does it have to grow?"

Camille was about to answer when Tom pressed his palm against his forehead and exhaled dramatically. "Sixteen, Ben. It's sixteen. She's told you that three times at least."

Ben took a quick look at Tom, while still fumbling through the book. "I know, mate. I just can't memorise it. Why do I even need to know that?"

Tom flung a piece of parchment toward him, pointing at the empty sheet. "Write it down, then. There are some things you must know. Get over it."

"Alright, alright," Ben grinned, apparently not caring about Tom's tone at all. "I'll write it down, see? Fluxweed takes thirteen days to grow. Happy now?"

"Sixteen," Camille, Tom and you sighed in unison.

"Oh." He crossed out the number and sloppily wrote the correct one above it. "Sixteen then."

Camille and you chuckled to yourselves while Tom only shook his head slightly, his eyes back inside his own book. Ben certainly was careless, or to be more precise, a lot more careless than Camille, Tom and you when it came to grades. The way he talked about homework and even exams was astonishing. He hadn't even studied for his O.W.L. in Care for Magical Creatures in his fifth year, and he still got an 'Exceeds Expectations'. Or so he had told you. He had always found a way to talk his way out of things, which was reasonable. Teachers really seemed to like him. Or rather do anything to stop him from talking once in a while.

"Oh, wait," Ben said again.

"Just read your book," Tom grunted.

"No, hang on."

Ben stood up and stretched his arm out quickly, reaching and grasping for something to your left. You all turned your heads and saw him catching something that had been flying right at you.

"I might be bad at Herbology. But you're lucky I'm a bloody good Seeker," he said and twisted the thin thing between his fingers.

"What is it?" Camille asked. "Let me see."

Ben put the thing down onto the desk, still pressing his index finger on top of it. "It's a quill. But it appears to be jinxed. It was flying on its own and headed right for your face," he said and looked at you. "Still wants to, I can feel it moving."

The grey quill twitched eagerly beneath Ben's hand, trying to escape and pointed its sharp tip right at you, ready to pierce into your skin.

"Not again," you mumbled.

"Again?"

Things, odd things, had been happening during the week. Someone had definitely played some pranks and antics on you. You hadn't found out who it was yet, but it certainly had become pesky. On Monday, someone had left you a note that said Professor Merrythought wanted a word with you. Once you had arrived at the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom however, you were met with a confused teacher and had a hard time explaining yourself. Tuesday, someone had poured Rash Powder over your dinner. You had almost taken a bite but thankfully had noticed the unfamiliar smell in time. Wednesday was more subtle. There had been puddles and slippery spots everywhere you stepped. Avoiding them had been a tedious task. And now, on Thursday, this. The quill didn't look like it could badly injure you, but its vivid nature was a sign for a hex, rather than a jinx.
No matter who it was, all those things did tear on your nerves. Not only because the pranks got to you, but because there was a possibility someone had been following you without you noticing. Every time you had gone to the Come and Go Room you had turned around and checked if someone was behind you, just in case. That was the exhausting part.