summary - A first-year witnesses Tom Riddle nearly curse a student to death, only for him to instantly switch into soft, devoted boyfriend mode when Y/N arrives.
authors note - inspired by my new obsession Dex aka bullseye, goodness he's all over my feed atm.
The corridor outside the library was supposed to be quiet.
That was the rule. Prefects enforced it, students respected it and Tom Riddle usually embodied it.
The first-year didn’t know what he was walking into. He turned the corner too quickly and froze the second he saw it.
A Slytherin student lay crumpled against the stone wall, barely conscious, their wand slipping from their fingers.
The air still hummed with the aftershock of a curse and standing over them, perfectly composed in his prefect robes, was Tom Riddle.
Tom noticed him immediately. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t even lower his wand.
The unconscious student at his feet barely seemed to matter to him at all like they were already dealt with, and no longer important.
The first-year took an instinctive step back anyway.
Tom finally spoke, quiet and mild, as if the first-year was the inconvenience. “Shh.”
The first-year’s voice cracked. “You—you just—they’re—”
Tom’s eyes flicked down to the student on the floor. “Alive,” he said lightly. “For now.”
The first-year went completely pale. “You’re going to kill me.”
Tom tilted his head slightly, as if considering the statement with genuine curiosity. “Oh,” he said.
No smile, no warmth. Just certainty. “Don’t worry.”
He lowered his wand in a slow, deliberate motion, like time itself was waiting for him to finish. “I’m one of the good guys.”
The first-year looked like he might collapse.
Tom’s gaze sharpened faintly. “Well,” he added, quieter now, “relatively speaking.”
Y/N’s voice again, closer this time. “Where are you?”
The first-year made a strangled noise behind him. Because suddenly Tom Riddle wasn’t looking at him anymore. He was looking past him.
And his expression had changed so completely it was like the last minute had never happened. “I’m here, love,” Tom called back.
The first-year slowly turned his head.
Y/N appeared at the end of the corridor.
Hogwarts robes slightly loose around her shoulders, one hand resting carefully over her very obvious pregnant belly. “Ah,” she said when she spotted him. “There you are.”
Tom was already walking toward her.
The prefect, the model student and the boy who would later be called a Dark Lord. None of that existed now.
Now he just looked like a boy greeting his girlfriend and unborn child.
He stopped in front of her, immediately taking her hand like it was instinct. “You shouldn’t be walking alone,” he said softly, his eyes flicking over her face as if making sure she was alright.
Y/N rolled her eyes. “I was in a library corridor, Tom, not a war zone.”
“That’s what you think,” he murmured.
She huffed, but there was affection in it. “You worry too much.”
“I don’t think I worry enough,” he corrected.
Then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, he lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
The first-year behind him made another small, horrified sound.
Y/N tilted her head. “Were you on patrol?”
“Of course,” Tom said smoothly.
Tom subtly stepped in front of the unconscious student, deliberately blocking it from Y/N’s view.
Y/N narrowed her eyes slightly, unconvinced but too tired to argue. “Mm.”
Tom gently adjusted the edge of her sleeve. “You’re cold.”
“I’m pregnant,” she reminded him.
“Yes,” he said immediately. “Which makes you vulnerable to temperature fluctuations.”
“That’s not how bodies work.”
She sighed, but she was already leaning into him a little anyway, letting him guide her down the corridor.
The first-year stood frozen, still processing the fact that someone had just been nearly killed two steps away from where Tom was now fussing like a concerned boyfriend.
Y/N glanced past Tom’s shoulder, eyes briefly landing on the first-year still frozen in the corridor. “Is he alright?”
Tom didn’t turn around. “Yes,” he said calmly.
The first-year nodded rapidly, even though nothing about this felt true.
Y/N hummed, satisfied enough, and let Tom lead her forward.
And just before they turned the corner, Tom glanced back over his shoulder at the first-year. With a look that said you saw nothing.
The first-year swallowed hard and nodded so fast it hurt.
Then Tom turned away again like nothing in the world had ever gone wrong. “Come on,” he said gently to Y/N, smoothing her hand again. “You need to sit down.”
Y/N snorted. “You’re acting like I’m made of glass.”
“You are,” he said simply.
She rolled her eyes but she didn’t let go of his hand and behind them, the corridor stayed very, very quiet.
tangentwithtanner
baratheonpilled
andulkaphoto
dailybridgerton
