ronnie romero

writer | hp lover | capricorn | mdni

[ronniewritesthings]

ronniewritesthings

hey everyone!

my name is ronnie. i'm a full-time college student, a part-time fast food worker, and a 24/7 fangirl.

this blog is going to be dedicated to my love for the hp fandom, specifically our good pal moldy voldy ❤︎⁠

the fics that i plan on writing are going to mainly focus on tom riddle. because of that, i would like to make a disclaimer:

canon tom is a genocidal maniac, whose actions i do not support. my love for the character comes from how well he was written (fuck jkr tho) and the complexity he adds to the story.

i will be writing for a more fanon version of tom -- still a villain, but a little more humanized. canon-compliant tom is problematic asf, so i'm fully aware that my humanized version of him is ooc. that's the point. i'm going to do my best to stay true to his demeanor and values, but he will be softened enough to be palatable for my tastes (sorry not sorry)

with that being said, i really look forward to sharing my fics with you guys! i'm also always looking for moots, so feel free to chat with me if you feel like it ❤︎⁠

love you all mwah mwah

- ronnie :)

dividers by @cafekitsune

[ronniewritesthings]

FOUND AGAIN

series content labels/warnings: tom riddle x fem!reader, mentions of childhood trauma (relating to Wool's and such), friends-to-strangers, strangers-to-lovers, mentions of murder (tom is evil), dark themes, angst with fluff sprinkled in, smut later in the series (not until they're 18), ooc tom riddle (he is capable of feeling love), hogwarts as its own trigger warning

content labels/warnings for this chapter: a teeny tiny bit of period-accurate sexism but it's just one small line about your character swearing

a/n: this chapter is just more exposition to sort of warm you up to the characters. our boy tom is experiencing feelings for the first time and he's not sure how to handle it.

reader has a surname ("Kerrigan") for convenience in dialogue

CHAPTER ONE

w.c: 2.9k

“Everyone, please give a warm welcome to the students of Mahoutokoro and Ilvermorny!”

The Great Hall erupted in cheers as Dippet finished his welcome. There were whoops and hollers sprinkled in-between a loud round of applause. All eyes were on you, yet you didn’t feel any nervousness. A sense of pride, and perhaps an anticipatory sense of glory, washed over you as the students of Hogwarts cheered for your arrival. Well, not your arrival specifically, but the arrival of all the visiting students.

You looked toward the table furthest to your right. Cool green banners lined with silver hung from the ceiling above the students. Their plates had yet to be filled, but they paid no mind to the empty dishes in front of them – clearly more enthralled by the spectacle that your school had put on during your entrance. There were hundreds of Hogwarts students in the Hall, but it didn’t take you long to find who you were looking for. The familiar waves of his dark hair sat taller than the boys around him, though you suspect that the intensity of his stare would have called your eyes to him anyway.

Tom Marvolo Riddle: the reclusive young boy turned highly academic charmer. It didn’t take long for him to make a name for himself. As you recall, he had already collected a loyal following of puppets and fangirls alike by the end of his second year. The last year that you and him were in the same house, the same country, the same continent. The boy you had left behind was one that you were very fond of, and eager to return to.

Headmaster Dippet raised his wand once more to his throat, amplifying his voice for the sea of students and staff to hear. “As aforementioned, the visiting students of this competition will be staying here in our castle for the duration of the school year. To accommodate them, we will be making living arrangements in each of your houses for our visitors to stay in.”

He turns toward your school’s administrator, Headmaster Calderon, and places a firm hand on his shoulder. “Seeing as your school’s founder had heritage with one of our houses here, the visiting Ilvermorny students will be staying in the Slytherin house.” A smile spread across your face at that, though you managed to keep it mostly under control.

He turned to the other admin. “Our friends from Mahoutokoro will be staying with Gryffindor, if that’s alright with you, Mr. Kobayashi.”

Mahoutokoro’s headmaster nodded. “That will do.”

“Perfect!” Dippet clasped his hands together, turning his attention back to the crowd of students seated around tables. “Now, one last thing before I let you all enjoy your feast,”

You watch as Headmaster Dippet waves his wand, casting some sort of summoning charm. A glittering, trophy-esque cup flies through the air, stopping to hover in front of the podium.

“This is the Triwizard Cup,” Dippet says, motioning for everyone’s attention. “It will serve not only as the trophy to the winner, but also the submission box for brave students to volunteer.” Excited chatter rose among the students in the room.

“Although ample security measures have been set in place, the challenges that follow will, at times, be incredibly dangerous. Your lives may not be on the line in this competition, but your health and physical condition surely will be.” Dippet lets out a sigh before continuing. “It is because of this that I request only seventh-years volunteer themselves for the challenge.” 

As he anticipated, the headmaster’s statement was met with outcry. Various shouts of “Where’s the fun in that?” and “That’s not fair!” emerged from the crowd. Nevertheless, Dippet seemed to remain firm in his decision. He went to explain where the cup would be waiting, and that volunteers for the tournament would have to submit their name over the weekend. Sensing the growing impatience in the room, he finally wraps up his speech.

“Don’t let me bore you all with the details much longer. Tonight is one of welcoming and celebration. Let us feast!”

With the final word, the platters scattered along the various tables begin to fill with delicacies ranging from roast duck to chocolate puddings. The two visiting schools make their way to the house tables they were assigned, with your school going toward Slytherin. While your schoolmates struggled to find open seating at the already crowded table, you had no trouble at all.

Tom stood from his seat as you approached. You beelined toward him with barely contained excitement, practically throwing yourself at him once you were in range.

“Tommy! I missed you!” You wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug, leaving him somewhat startled. He hadn’t remembered you as someone to be so physical. Where did all this energy come from? Nevertheless, he returned the hug, albeit a bit awkwardly.

“I missed you, too.” he said, pulling back from you to study your face. You had a wide grin, one that was familiar to him, though it seemed a lot more impassioned now. He missed your face. Your voice. Your scent. He could smell a floral perfume on you – orchids, he believed. Maybe a bit of vanilla.

“Kerrigan, you’re back! How’s it been?”

You pull away from Tom and turn to Rosier, who was greeting you with a smile. “We were beginning to think you’d never return.”

You take a seat on Tom’s right, in-between him and Mulciber. “I was beginning to think so, too,” you say, loading up your plate. “Thank Merlin for the tournament coming back; if I hadn’t volunteered to compete, I may have never seen any of you again.”

Tom froze at that. “You’re competing?”

“Well it’s not confirmed yet – the cup still has to choose me as my school’s champion – but yeah, I put my name in.”

This wasn’t like you at all. The girl Tom once knew was calm and collected, someone who shared the silence with him without becoming uncomfortable. He spent his first two years at Hogwarts studying diligently, with most of his time spent with you being that of a relaxed stillness. Back in Wool’s, the two of you only spoke to each other – and even then, most of your conversations were shared in whispers. You were introverted last time he saw you, and a bit shy, too. When Tom looked at you now, there was no ounce of timidness in your eyes. You looked strong, smart, and egregiously proud.

“Merlin’s beard, Kerrigan. You sure you’re up for the challenge?” Mulciber asked, resting his chin in his palm as he looked at you. “It’s not gonna be easy, you know.”

“No shit, Mulciber. I’m sure I can handle the competition – you have no idea the things I learned over in America. Ilvermorny’s curriculum is nothing like you’ve ever seen!”

Now you’re swearing? You used to be so well-mannered and polite, but at present you’re chugging pumpkin juice and throwing out expletives like a man. What has Ilvermorny done to you? Tom knew that the Americans had a reputation of being chaotic brutes, but he never guessed that you would degrade yourself to fit in with such a culture. The two of you exchanged letters frequently during your time abroad, and not once did he get the impression that this was who you had become. The barbarity that you’re currently displaying certainly didn’t translate onto paper.

Tom was elated at the thought of your arrival. He spent most of his summer nights lying awake in bed, thinking of what it would be like to reunite with his closest confidante once again. But now that you’re here, he can’t help but feel somewhat… irked. And perhaps a bit surprised.

Your tablemates weren’t nearly as put off by your behavior. Rosier and Avery shared laughs with you as you all ate, with Malfoy and Mulciber occasionally pitching in to add to the jokes. Lestrange remained quiet throughout, but you could tell that he was enjoying the cheer as well. The excitement of returning to Hogwarts, and the mouthwatering meal in front of you, left you oblivious to the tension in the boy next to you. Tom was never one to speak much. Perhaps he was just tired – he had classes all day before this, after all.

You settled on the decision to speak to Tom further once the two of you were alone. You couldn’t wait to tell him all you’ve learned during your time abroad, and you were equally excited to hear the same from him. The Tom you remember was exceedingly bright and charismatic, with both professors and students. You had no doubt that his past four years at Hogwarts would have been interesting.

After about an hour and a half, the chatter of the Great Hall finally settled. Students were finishing their meals and packing up to head to their dorms for the night. You watched from across the room as the Gryffindor prefects guided the Mahoutokoro students up to their dorms, waving their hands around enthusiastically as they gave them a tour of the castle. The prefects in Slytherin were doing the same for your schoolmates, but you didn’t join the tour, you didn’t need to. You were a Slytherin during the two years that you spent at Hogwarts, so you had no trouble navigating the dungeons and finding where you needed to be.

The common room was exactly how you remembered it. The main archway opened up to a grand living space, with a fireplace standing opposite to the spiral staircase you’d just descended. To the left were the dorms – years one through six being accessed by sides, and year sevens being at the top of the grand central staircase, along with the prefect rooms. On your right, huge floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the depths of the Black Lake. A few students milled about, reading on the couches or playing games of wizard chess. This place didn’t change at all, as if it was frozen in time while you were away. You decided to join your new – or old, you guess – housemates by the glass, staring into the water outside and watching the kelp dance with the current.

After spending an ample amount of time sitting by the windows, you decided it was probably time to wind down. You made your way up the main staircase, heading toward the girl’s side of the dormitory. The visiting Ilvermorny students had their own beds conjured in the dorms of each of the years, with yours waiting for you in the seventh. You didn’t enter just yet. You walked toward the back wall, the one that stood as a fork in the road between the girls and boys sides of the dorms. There were three doors in the center of it: Head Girl, Prefects, and Head Boy. You recalled seeing a badge on Tom’s robes. This would be a perfect time to speak to him.

You knocked on his door politely, swinging yourself back and forth on your heels while you waited. There was some shuffling to be heard inside the room, but no one came to the door. You tried again, this time with a quiet call.

“Tom? It’s me. I want to talk to you.”

The shuffling noises shifted from turning pages to feet padding across stone. The door opened in front of you with a soft click. Tom stood there in the doorframe, his sleep clothes already on, staring at you with a curious look.

“What do you need?”

“I just wanted to check up on you. We didn’t get to talk much over dinner.”

“It’s late. You should be in bed by now.”

You grinned. “So?”

He let out an exasperated sigh and shook his head, though you could see a small smile forming. Tom crossed his arms over his chest, but stood aside to let you into the room.

His dorm was neat, if somewhat impersonal, just like you expected it to be. Tom Riddle was never one to fuss over material things – a quality he picked up from his time in the orphanage. You walked over to his desk, where a half-written essay sat, and leaned against the dark wood. Tom closed the door gently and sat on the edge of his bed, facing you.

You tiled your head to the side, speaking in a much calmer tone than you had earlier during the feast. “How have you been, Tommy?”

You watched Tom pause for a moment, seemingly putting a lot of thought into a question so simple. He never got used to that nickname.

“I’ve been well. How about you?”

This felt a lot more familiar. Just a quiet conversation between the two of you. Alone in a room where the world couldn’t reach you. He preferred it like this. Now that you’re away from the bustling crowd, he can finally get a good look at you.

You look older, though not in a haggard way. More mature. There’s a glint in your eye that hints to a bit of softness, a gentle tone that could only be achieved by someone wise. This was who he remembered.

“That’s it? Just ‘well’?” You push off from his desk, standing in front of him with your arms crossed. “You can give me more than that.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything.”

He sits there silent for a moment, pondering. “I passed my O.W.L.S with the highest marks.”

You roll your eyes. “For fuck’s sake, Tom. That’s not what I meant.”

His eyes stay trained on you as you move closer, sitting on the bed next to him. The mattress dips under your weight, adding a subtle change in atmosphere. You examine his face, noting the way his jaw tightens.

“Come on, we’re best friends, aren’t we? There’s nothing you can’t tell me.” You grab his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “No need to keep secrets.”

“I’m not keeping secrets,” he says, letting his eyes drop to where your hands are connected. “I just don’t enjoy being interrogated.”

“Asking you how you’ve been is interrogating?”

His jaw clenches once more. You had no idea how hard of a question that was to answer. He couldn’t tell you how he’s been, not truthfully. You’d be horrified by the answer. But how could he lie to you? You knew him as well as he knew himself – if he told you that he’d spent the last four years playing Quidditch with the boys you’d call bullshit immediately.

“I’ve been… researching. Mostly about strands of magic that interest me.” A half-truth.

“And your family?”

That’s right, he had almost forgotten. When the two of you entered Hogwarts, he had no idea of his lineage. His mother died minutes after he was born, and Mrs. Cole said she never got her name. All Tom knew was that he was named after his father, but he couldn’t find the name in any of the magical records that were kept in the school library. You had left before he discovered his heritage.

Tom sighs, returning his gaze to you. “I’m a descendant of Slytherin himself, on my mother’s side.” He pauses for a moment, deciding on what truths he should tell you. “My father… I’m still unsure of.”

“Well, that explains the snakes.”

A soft laugh escapes him. He turns his palm over, lacing his fingers with yours. “Yes, I suppose it does.”

Tom’s eyes sweep over you, taking in all of your matured features. Your hair was neatly styled, maintaining its original image even after the long day. You were wearing a simple white shirt, with a teal and green tie around the collar – your house colors from Ilvermorny, he assumed. His gaze traveled down toward your legs, where your black skirt sat around mid thigh. White socks covered your calves, leading down to elegant black flats. Tom felt a slight blush creeping up his neck. You were beautiful. He suddenly felt very embarrassed about being in his night clothes.

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” he says, though without malice. His hand stays interlocked with yours. “It’s past curfew.”

You giggle a bit at that, shaking your head. “Oh Tom, always a stickler for the rules.” Your hand falls from his as you stand. He doesn’t move. “One day you’ll learn to have fun.”

He watches as you cross the room, stopping just before the door. You look over your shoulder one last time before leaving. “Goodnight, Tommy.”

Tom exhales as the door closes, leaving him alone with his thoughts once more. This day had been nothing like he expected. You entered the Great Hall with bounds of energy, disrupting his peace and his friend group. Then you turned around and spoke to him in the softest tone, relaxing into a poised demeanor during the night. You were so complicated. There were parts of you he recognized, and parts that he was bewildered by. You were still the same smart, kind girl he knew – but you carried an air of pride wherever you went, almost challenging the Gryffindors. He didn’t know what to think. Tom felt like his head was spinning. What were you doing to him?

He decides it’s best to rest. Sleep is what he’ll need if he’s to keep up with you. Tom walks back over to his desk and closes his notebook, leaving his History of Magic essay unfinished. It’s fine, he has plenty of time.

You crawl into your own bed not long after. The sheets were cool against your skin, while the quilt warmed you like a hug. You missed this place. Ilvermorny was great, but Hogwarts was like no other. A calm sense of nostalgia washes over you as you close your eyes, surrendering to your first night of sleep in your old home.

You’re back.

a/n: this is only slightly proof-read so if there are spelling errors please let me know. i wrote this in a daze at 2 am. i did a huge deep-dive on the lore of ilvermorny and mahoutokoro and now i have a bunch of random knowledge floating around in my brain. oh well

as always, let me know if u wanna be tagged!

love you mwah mwah ♡

©2026 ronniewritesthings. do not copy, translate, or claim my work as your own

[ronniewritesthings]

it's here!!!

[ronniewritesthings]

wait the gauntlet of shar thing is actually so smart for something like this

especially the self-same trial... imagine one of the trials forcing the contestants to duel themselves!?

love ur brain bestie 😋

YESSS that's what i was thinking

i mean obviously i'm not gonna rip it off, but i definitely think that dueling themselves would be an interesting challenge

still thinking of ideas... who knew writing a tom riddle fanfic would cost this much mental energy? oh well. it's worth it ♡

[ronniewritesthings]

FOUND AGAIN

series content labels/warnings: tom riddle x fem!reader, mentions of childhood trauma (relating to Wool's and such), friends-to-strangers, strangers-to-lovers, mentions of murder (tom is evil), dark themes, angst with fluff sprinkled in, smut later in the series (not until they're 18), ooc tom riddle (he is capable of feeling love), hogwarts as its own trigger warning

content labels/warnings for this chapter: a teeny tiny bit of period-accurate sexism but it's just one small line about your character swearing

a/n: this chapter is just more exposition to sort of warm you up to the characters. our boy tom is experiencing feelings for the first time and he's not sure how to handle it.

reader has a surname ("Kerrigan") for convenience in dialogue

CHAPTER ONE

w.c: 2.9k

“Everyone, please give a warm welcome to the students of Mahoutokoro and Ilvermorny!”

The Great Hall erupted in cheers as Dippet finished his welcome. There were whoops and hollers sprinkled in-between a loud round of applause. All eyes were on you, yet you didn’t feel any nervousness. A sense of pride, and perhaps an anticipatory sense of glory, washed over you as the students of Hogwarts cheered for your arrival. Well, not your arrival specifically, but the arrival of all the visiting students.

You looked toward the table furthest to your right. Cool green banners lined with silver hung from the ceiling above the students. Their plates had yet to be filled, but they paid no mind to the empty dishes in front of them – clearly more enthralled by the spectacle that your school had put on during your entrance. There were hundreds of Hogwarts students in the Hall, but it didn’t take you long to find who you were looking for. The familiar waves of his dark hair sat taller than the boys around him, though you suspect that the intensity of his stare would have called your eyes to him anyway.

Tom Marvolo Riddle: the reclusive young boy turned highly academic charmer. It didn’t take long for him to make a name for himself. As you recall, he had already collected a loyal following of puppets and fangirls alike by the end of his second year. The last year that you and him were in the same house, the same country, the same continent. The boy you had left behind was one that you were very fond of, and eager to return to.

Headmaster Dippet raised his wand once more to his throat, amplifying his voice for the sea of students and staff to hear. “As aforementioned, the visiting students of this competition will be staying here in our castle for the duration of the school year. To accommodate them, we will be making living arrangements in each of your houses for our visitors to stay in.”

He turns toward your school’s administrator, Headmaster Calderon, and places a firm hand on his shoulder. “Seeing as your school’s founder had heritage with one of our houses here, the visiting Ilvermorny students will be staying in the Slytherin house.” A smile spread across your face at that, though you managed to keep it mostly under control.

He turned to the other admin. “Our friends from Mahoutokoro will be staying with Gryffindor, if that’s alright with you, Mr. Kobayashi.”

Mahoutokoro’s headmaster nodded. “That will do.”

“Perfect!” Dippet clasped his hands together, turning his attention back to the crowd of students seated around tables. “Now, one last thing before I let you all enjoy your feast,”

You watch as Headmaster Dippet waves his wand, casting some sort of summoning charm. A glittering, trophy-esque cup flies through the air, stopping to hover in front of the podium.

“This is the Triwizard Cup,” Dippet says, motioning for everyone’s attention. “It will serve not only as the trophy to the winner, but also the submission box for brave students to volunteer.” Excited chatter rose among the students in the room.

“Although ample security measures have been set in place, the challenges that follow will, at times, be incredibly dangerous. Your lives may not be on the line in this competition, but your health and physical condition surely will be.” Dippet lets out a sigh before continuing. “It is because of this that I request only seventh-years volunteer themselves for the challenge.” 

As he anticipated, the headmaster’s statement was met with outcry. Various shouts of “Where’s the fun in that?” and “That’s not fair!” emerged from the crowd. Nevertheless, Dippet seemed to remain firm in his decision. He went to explain where the cup would be waiting, and that volunteers for the tournament would have to submit their name over the weekend. Sensing the growing impatience in the room, he finally wraps up his speech.

“Don’t let me bore you all with the details much longer. Tonight is one of welcoming and celebration. Let us feast!”

With the final word, the platters scattered along the various tables begin to fill with delicacies ranging from roast duck to chocolate puddings. The two visiting schools make their way to the house tables they were assigned, with your school going toward Slytherin. While your schoolmates struggled to find open seating at the already crowded table, you had no trouble at all.

Tom stood from his seat as you approached. You beelined toward him with barely contained excitement, practically throwing yourself at him once you were in range.

“Tommy! I missed you!” You wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug, leaving him somewhat startled. He hadn’t remembered you as someone to be so physical. Where did all this energy come from? Nevertheless, he returned the hug, albeit a bit awkwardly.

“I missed you, too.” he said, pulling back from you to study your face. You had a wide grin, one that was familiar to him, though it seemed a lot more impassioned now. He missed your face. Your voice. Your scent. He could smell a floral perfume on you – orchids, he believed. Maybe a bit of vanilla.

“Kerrigan, you’re back! How’s it been?”

You pull away from Tom and turn to Rosier, who was greeting you with a smile. “We were beginning to think you’d never return.”

You take a seat on Tom’s right, in-between him and Mulciber. “I was beginning to think so, too,” you say, loading up your plate. “Thank Merlin for the tournament coming back; if I hadn’t volunteered to compete, I may have never seen any of you again.”

Tom froze at that. “You’re competing?”

“Well it’s not confirmed yet – the cup still has to choose me as my school’s champion – but yeah, I put my name in.”

This wasn’t like you at all. The girl Tom once knew was calm and collected, someone who shared the silence with him without becoming uncomfortable. He spent his first two years at Hogwarts studying diligently, with most of his time spent with you being that of a relaxed stillness. Back in Wool’s, the two of you only spoke to each other – and even then, most of your conversations were shared in whispers. You were introverted last time he saw you, and a bit shy, too. When Tom looked at you now, there was no ounce of timidness in your eyes. You looked strong, smart, and egregiously proud.

“Merlin’s beard, Kerrigan. You sure you’re up for the challenge?” Mulciber asked, resting his chin in his palm as he looked at you. “It’s not gonna be easy, you know.”

“No shit, Mulciber. I’m sure I can handle the competition – you have no idea the things I learned over in America. Ilvermorny’s curriculum is nothing like you’ve ever seen!”

Now you’re swearing? You used to be so well-mannered and polite, but at present you’re chugging pumpkin juice and throwing out expletives like a man. What has Ilvermorny done to you? Tom knew that the Americans had a reputation of being chaotic brutes, but he never guessed that you would degrade yourself to fit in with such a culture. The two of you exchanged letters frequently during your time abroad, and not once did he get the impression that this was who you had become. The barbarity that you’re currently displaying certainly didn’t translate onto paper.

Tom was elated at the thought of your arrival. He spent most of his summer nights lying awake in bed, thinking of what it would be like to reunite with his closest confidante once again. But now that you’re here, he can’t help but feel somewhat… irked. And perhaps a bit surprised.

Your tablemates weren’t nearly as put off by your behavior. Rosier and Avery shared laughs with you as you all ate, with Malfoy and Mulciber occasionally pitching in to add to the jokes. Lestrange remained quiet throughout, but you could tell that he was enjoying the cheer as well. The excitement of returning to Hogwarts, and the mouthwatering meal in front of you, left you oblivious to the tension in the boy next to you. Tom was never one to speak much. Perhaps he was just tired – he had classes all day before this, after all.

You settled on the decision to speak to Tom further once the two of you were alone. You couldn’t wait to tell him all you’ve learned during your time abroad, and you were equally excited to hear the same from him. The Tom you remember was exceedingly bright and charismatic, with both professors and students. You had no doubt that his past four years at Hogwarts would have been interesting.

After about an hour and a half, the chatter of the Great Hall finally settled. Students were finishing their meals and packing up to head to their dorms for the night. You watched from across the room as the Gryffindor prefects guided the Mahoutokoro students up to their dorms, waving their hands around enthusiastically as they gave them a tour of the castle. The prefects in Slytherin were doing the same for your schoolmates, but you didn’t join the tour, you didn’t need to. You were a Slytherin during the two years that you spent at Hogwarts, so you had no trouble navigating the dungeons and finding where you needed to be.

The common room was exactly how you remembered it. The main archway opened up to a grand living space, with a fireplace standing opposite to the spiral staircase you’d just descended. To the left were the dorms – years one through six being accessed by sides, and year sevens being at the top of the grand central staircase, along with the prefect rooms. On your right, huge floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the depths of the Black Lake. A few students milled about, reading on the couches or playing games of wizard chess. This place didn’t change at all, as if it was frozen in time while you were away. You decided to join your new – or old, you guess – housemates by the glass, staring into the water outside and watching the kelp dance with the current.

After spending an ample amount of time sitting by the windows, you decided it was probably time to wind down. You made your way up the main staircase, heading toward the girl’s side of the dormitory. The visiting Ilvermorny students had their own beds conjured in the dorms of each of the years, with yours waiting for you in the seventh. You didn’t enter just yet. You walked toward the back wall, the one that stood as a fork in the road between the girls and boys sides of the dorms. There were three doors in the center of it: Head Girl, Prefects, and Head Boy. You recalled seeing a badge on Tom’s robes. This would be a perfect time to speak to him.

You knocked on his door politely, swinging yourself back and forth on your heels while you waited. There was some shuffling to be heard inside the room, but no one came to the door. You tried again, this time with a quiet call.

“Tom? It’s me. I want to talk to you.”

The shuffling noises shifted from turning pages to feet padding across stone. The door opened in front of you with a soft click. Tom stood there in the doorframe, his sleep clothes already on, staring at you with a curious look.

“What do you need?”

“I just wanted to check up on you. We didn’t get to talk much over dinner.”

“It’s late. You should be in bed by now.”

You grinned. “So?”

He let out an exasperated sigh and shook his head, though you could see a small smile forming. Tom crossed his arms over his chest, but stood aside to let you into the room.

His dorm was neat, if somewhat impersonal, just like you expected it to be. Tom Riddle was never one to fuss over material things – a quality he picked up from his time in the orphanage. You walked over to his desk, where a half-written essay sat, and leaned against the dark wood. Tom closed the door gently and sat on the edge of his bed, facing you.

You tiled your head to the side, speaking in a much calmer tone than you had earlier during the feast. “How have you been, Tommy?”

You watched Tom pause for a moment, seemingly putting a lot of thought into a question so simple. He never got used to that nickname.

“I’ve been well. How about you?”

This felt a lot more familiar. Just a quiet conversation between the two of you. Alone in a room where the world couldn’t reach you. He preferred it like this. Now that you’re away from the bustling crowd, he can finally get a good look at you.

You look older, though not in a haggard way. More mature. There’s a glint in your eye that hints to a bit of softness, a gentle tone that could only be achieved by someone wise. This was who he remembered.

“That’s it? Just ‘well’?” You push off from his desk, standing in front of him with your arms crossed. “You can give me more than that.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything.”

He sits there silent for a moment, pondering. “I passed my O.W.L.S with the highest marks.”

You roll your eyes. “For fuck’s sake, Tom. That’s not what I meant.”

His eyes stay trained on you as you move closer, sitting on the bed next to him. The mattress dips under your weight, adding a subtle change in atmosphere. You examine his face, noting the way his jaw tightens.

“Come on, we’re best friends, aren’t we? There’s nothing you can’t tell me.” You grab his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “No need to keep secrets.”

“I’m not keeping secrets,” he says, letting his eyes drop to where your hands are connected. “I just don’t enjoy being interrogated.”

“Asking you how you’ve been is interrogating?”

His jaw clenches once more. You had no idea how hard of a question that was to answer. He couldn’t tell you how he’s been, not truthfully. You’d be horrified by the answer. But how could he lie to you? You knew him as well as he knew himself – if he told you that he’d spent the last four years playing Quidditch with the boys you’d call bullshit immediately.

“I’ve been… researching. Mostly about strands of magic that interest me.” A half-truth.

“And your family?”

That’s right, he had almost forgotten. When the two of you entered Hogwarts, he had no idea of his lineage. His mother died minutes after he was born, and Mrs. Cole said she never got her name. All Tom knew was that he was named after his father, but he couldn’t find the name in any of the magical records that were kept in the school library. You had left before he discovered his heritage.

Tom sighs, returning his gaze to you. “I’m a descendant of Slytherin himself, on my mother’s side.” He pauses for a moment, deciding on what truths he should tell you. “My father… I’m still unsure of.”

“Well, that explains the snakes.”

A soft laugh escapes him. He turns his palm over, lacing his fingers with yours. “Yes, I suppose it does.”

Tom’s eyes sweep over you, taking in all of your matured features. Your hair was neatly styled, maintaining its original image even after the long day. You were wearing a simple white shirt, with a teal and green tie around the collar – your house colors from Ilvermorny, he assumed. His gaze traveled down toward your legs, where your black skirt sat around mid thigh. White socks covered your calves, leading down to elegant black flats. Tom felt a slight blush creeping up his neck. You were beautiful. He suddenly felt very embarrassed about being in his night clothes.

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” he says, though without malice. His hand stays interlocked with yours. “It’s past curfew.”

You giggle a bit at that, shaking your head. “Oh Tom, always a stickler for the rules.” Your hand falls from his as you stand. He doesn’t move. “One day you’ll learn to have fun.”

He watches as you cross the room, stopping just before the door. You look over your shoulder one last time before leaving. “Goodnight, Tommy.”

Tom exhales as the door closes, leaving him alone with his thoughts once more. This day had been nothing like he expected. You entered the Great Hall with bounds of energy, disrupting his peace and his friend group. Then you turned around and spoke to him in the softest tone, relaxing into a poised demeanor during the night. You were so complicated. There were parts of you he recognized, and parts that he was bewildered by. You were still the same smart, kind girl he knew – but you carried an air of pride wherever you went, almost challenging the Gryffindors. He didn’t know what to think. Tom felt like his head was spinning. What were you doing to him?

He decides it’s best to rest. Sleep is what he’ll need if he’s to keep up with you. Tom walks back over to his desk and closes his notebook, leaving his History of Magic essay unfinished. It’s fine, he has plenty of time.

You crawl into your own bed not long after. The sheets were cool against your skin, while the quilt warmed you like a hug. You missed this place. Ilvermorny was great, but Hogwarts was like no other. A calm sense of nostalgia washes over you as you close your eyes, surrendering to your first night of sleep in your old home.

You’re back.

a/n: this is only slightly proof-read so if there are spelling errors please let me know. i wrote this in a daze at 2 am. i did a huge deep-dive on the lore of ilvermorny and mahoutokoro and now i have a bunch of random knowledge floating around in my brain. oh well

as always, let me know if u wanna be tagged!

love you mwah mwah ♡

©2026 ronniewritesthings. do not copy, translate, or claim my work as your own

[ronniewritesthings]

small update/ramblings

chapter one goes up in a little less than an hour!!! so excited for y'all to read it

also i'm currently workshopping ideas for the 3 trials in the triwizard tournament since i don't want them to be the same as the ones in the series

i still wanna follow the guidelines of one trial testing physical ability, one testing mental ability, and one testing magical ability

im thinking sort of a gauntlet of shar situation (if any of you have played bg3)

we'll see how it goes

anyway get ready!!! mwah mwah

- ronnie

[rookamell]

Writing isn't the hobby. Being insane about little fake people is the hobby. Writing is just the only outlet i have for that

[tohru02]

Knights of Walpurgis - 1940s

My designs so far :>

[ronniewritesthings]

WOW WOW WOW

[henokihemta]

pretty boy, consumed by death.

[ronniewritesthings]

this is gorgeous. the art style, the colors, the composition. all of it is chef's kiss.

mwah mwah

[badymaru]

reminder that if you’re a TERF you’re not welcome here

[dreaming-of-epiphanies]

✯ 𝓣𝓮𝓬𝓱𝓷𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓲𝓮𝓼

─ .✦ day 1 of celebration event

A/N: Welcome to Day 1 of my 500 follower special event! Starting off with a fic for my beloved Tommy. 

Description: Someone mistakes you and your academic rival Tom Riddle to be dating. 

Warnings and word count: oral f!recieving, fingering, light breath play, light dry humping/grinding, tom is a little shit but he has feelings too (mdni 18+). Word count 5.5k

tom riddle masterlist

You pushed open the doors to the library, already weary from the mountain of homework you had to do today, and what you still had to do. It wasn’t your fault you’d gotten sick and had to skip three full days of class, but you were already highly regretting having done so. 

The library was packed full of students studying from upcoming examinations, so you knew finding a seat would be next to impossible, probably. You’d have to go back to your dorm if you wanted an actual desk to study on, but first…

First, you unfortunately had to secure your missed notes from someone.

You scanned the crowd until you spotted the guy you were searching for. He was bent over his desk, hard at work, and didn’t even look up as you approached. You smiled wryly to yourself, coming to a stop in front of the table.

“Hey, do you have the notes from Defence yesterday?”

At the sound of your voice, Riddle glanced up, his eyes doing a quick once-over of your figure before sighing and leaning back in his seat. 

“I told you that you would regret skipping class,” he admonished, to which you rolled your eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m a terrible student and if you had an ounce of common sense you wouldn’t give me the notes,” you deadpanned, holding out your hand. “Anyway, do you have them?”

Riddle was already pulling a scroll of parchment out of his bag. “Here,” he said as he handed it over to you, “I took the liberty of writing you a copy.”

“Huh,” you said in surprise, unrolling the parchment and reading it over. “That’s actually pretty nice of you.”

“Hardly. I was only attempting to ensure you wouldn’t be leaning over my shoulder during our next class.” Riddle assured you dryly, picking his quill back up and dipping it primly in the inkpot.

You snorted, pocketing the notes. “When have I ever done that?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Would you like a recapitulation in chronological order?” he asked, and you grimaced. 

“Maybe next time,” you sighed. “Speaking of, shall we place a bet on our exam tomorrow?”

“I suppose,” Riddle said, setting his quill down again and fixing you with an expectant look. “Whats your offer?”

You pretended to think. “Winner gets choice of prefect hours. So I can swap my morning patrol for your night.” 

Riddle leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms knowingly. It was no secret how much you detested morning hours– though to be fair, he did too. 

“Intriguing,” he finally said. “I’ll accept it, and look forward to claiming my prize.” 

You gave him a nasty look. “That confident already, are you?”

“I’ve scored higher than you for the past two Defence exams, haven’t I?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “So I wouldn’t call it confidence. Simply pattern recognition.”

You shook your head in exasperation, turning on your heel to leave the library. “Go to hell, Riddle.”

You heard him laugh lightly from behind you. “Good luck to you too.”

༺ ✧ ༻

“Merlin, you’re insufferable,” you grumbled the next day as Riddle dropped his parchment on the desk next to you, marked full points! in Professor Merrythought’s spindly cursive.

“I prefer ‘genius,’ but that works too,” Riddle said dryly, a smirk on his face as he watched you pack up your bag, shoving your books in haphazardly. He extended one hand, snatching up your paper with his pale fingers as his eyes zeroed in on your score- only two points below his, but that was essentially eons worse in Riddle’s eyes. 

“Of course you would,” you muttered with an eye roll, though you couldn’t help but laugh a little at Riddle’s obvious triumph for scoring higher than you. You grabbed up your bag, following Riddle down the narrow aisle of seats to the door. 

“If I had known the essay question would be on elemental abjuration, I wouldn’t have spent so much time covering pyromancy. And then we would’ve scored the same,” you said testily, giving him a small nod of thanks for holding the door open for you. 

“Ah, but you didn’t, did you?” he said wisely as you passed him, falling into step beside you as soon as the door swung shut. “I received a 100, while you received a lowly score–”

“Of 98! Need I remind you that’s what you got on that Arithmacy assignment three weeks ago?”

Riddle’s mouth tightened. “I thought we had conceded that it was an anomaly. After all, you were the one who spilled ink on my parchment–”

“Oh please, it was a drop.” 

“The size of a Sickle.”

“You exaggerate.” 

“Do I?” Riddle shot you a look and you rolled your eyes. 

“Listen, a 98 is a perfectly acceptable score. I will not have you slander me so.” you threatened as you walked towards the entrance to the Great Hall, sidestepping groups of other students as you did. 

“I was doing no such thing,” Riddle countered immediately. “Besides, 98 is perfectly fine. It just so happens that a 100 is better.” 

You threw your hands up. “I give up,” you groaned, coming to a stop beside the door. “Enjoy your victory. We have that Charms exam next week and I’ll be sure to score higher than you then.”

Riddle nodded, looking pleased. “Excellent. I accept your challenge. Shall we meet at our usual time in the library?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you said sarcastically, forcing back a smile as Riddle gave you a little dramatic bow before walking away. He had another class, but you had your lunch period now. You’d reconvene in the library in the afternoon… and in his dorm, later.

Shaking your head, you made your way into the Great Hall and over towards your friends, who were sitting and talking with a girl you didn’t recognize.

“Hey!” Eloise waved as you dropped into your seat, setting your bag down under the table. “You’re a little late.”

“Riddle and I were arguing,” you said as a way of explanation, and both she and Scarlett nodded in understanding. 

“Ah,” Scarlett said wisely. “I’m assuming one of you scored higher than the other on the Defence exam?”

“Yep, and it was him,” you told her, spooning some fruit onto your plate next to your sandwich. “But only by two points.”

“I’m sure that's a lot, to him,” Eloise chimed in. 

“Don’t I know it,” you chuckled to yourself, taking a sip of your water. “It’s alright, though, I’ll just beat him on the next exam.”

Eloise laughed, then her eyes lit up. “Wait! I haven’t introduced you to Stephanie yet,” she said, turning to a girl with long black hair and vivid green eyes sitting next to her. “She’s my cousin and is visiting this week.”

“Nice to meet you,” you said, giving her a smile. She smiled back.

“You as well. Now, if you don’t mind me asking, who are we talking about?” Her eyes glittered and you shot her a conspiratorial smile. Clearly, she liked gossip just as much as you did. 

“Tom Riddle,” you said, and Eloise nodded wisely. 

“Her biggest rival. They constantly compete for the top spot of class.”

“Who’s winning?” Stephanie asked curiously. You shrugged, popping a grape into your mouth. 

“Depends on the day. Unfortunately, after the Defence exam, Riddle is in the lead.”

“Only by their standards,” Scarlett interjected. “In the professors’ eyes, they are absolute academic equals.”

“Well, mostly,” you muttered, thinking a little bitterly about Professor Slughorn. He refused to make any clear statement, but it was clear he favoured Riddle. 

“Anyways. They’ve detested each other for as long as I can remember. We steer clear of him too, just to be safe,” Eloise explained. 

“Because who knows, maybe he’d try to challenge us to one of their weird academic competitions,” Scarlett agreed. 

“Oh no, he wouldn’t do that,” you said immediately, right as Eloise spoke too, casting you an unreadable look.

“She’s right. For whatever reason, he only ever challenges her.” 

༺ ✧ ༻

“You’re late.”

The door to Riddle’s dorm room closed behind you as you dropped your bag on the floor, shrugging your cloak off as well. 

“Sorry. I got caught up after dinner,” you explained, walking over to his bed and dropping down to sit on it. He watched you from his desk, expression unscrutable. 

“Doing what, exactly?”

You grimaced, kicking off your shoes and pulling one of Riddle’s dark green jumpers over your head. “Finding a good excuse to slip away from my friends. They wanted to hang out in the Astronomy Tower until curfew.”

“Why in Merlin’s name would they do that?”

“Scarlett has an assignment to chart the position of the planets or something. Anyway, I had to wait until it was late enough that they would believe I was too tired to stay out any longer,” you explained, propping yourself up against Riddle’s pillows as he tidied the papers on his desk. “What have you been doing?”

“Researching for our upcoming Alchemy essay, and–” He gave you a look– “Waiting on you.”

“Sorry,” you repeated with another shrug. “It’s not like I could tell them why I was in such a hurry to get where I was going.”

“Oh, I’m well aware,” Riddle said, coming over to stand next to the bed. “I know secrecy is of utmost importance to you.”

“To both of us,” you corrected, scooting over on the bed to make room. “We need to maintain appearances, after all. Can you imagine how they’d react if they found out what we’ve been doing?”

“Rather terribly, I should imagine,” he agreed, sitting down in your now-vacated spot and letting his hand toy under the fabric of the jumper, his intent clear.

“I know,” you sighed, helping him pull the jumper further up your torso. “How else are we to keep this up?”

“I can think of a few ideas,” Riddle murmured, lowering his head and pressing his lips to yours without another word. 

The kiss started off gentle enough, and you wrapped your arms around his neck to relish the feeling of his proximity. He smelled of old books and the slight spiciness of cider, a scent so distinctly him that it left no question as to who was slowly undressing you. 

With the jumper now off, Riddle had much more unhindered access to your blouse. You’d pertinently undone the top few buttons before knocking on his door; just enough so the lace of your black bra peeked out. You’d seen his eyes go straight to it when you’d entered, and although he hadn’t said anything then, he was certainly making his satisfaction known now. 

His fingers dipped inside of your shirt’s neckline, feathering down the fabric until he could tug it down far enough to kiss down your neck, his cheek grazing against your lace-covered breasts. You let your eyes flutter closed and held on to the back of his neck as he nibbled your skin, losing yourself to the sensation as his other hand slid under your back and ghosted up under your shirt until he reached the clasp of your bra. 

It came undone with a quiet click and loosened around your chest, giving Riddle ample opportunity to slide a hand underneath and start palming your breast. Your head fell back, arching up into the sensation and the pointed tug of Riddle’s fingers on your nipple.

His other hand slid down your stomach until he reached the waistband of your skirt. He made quick work of divesting you of it, and slipping his fingers into your panties without pretense. You gasped at the sudden sensation, pussy clenching and mouth falling open.

“Already wet, I see,” he hummed, pushing his fingers insistently up against your cunt until you writhed, whimpering in impatience. “You were waiting for this, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” you rasped, dizzily raising your head. One hand was still palming your breast, and the other had two fingers lazily circling your entrance while his thumb hovered over your clit, just enough to graze the skin but not enough to relieve the pressure you felt there. 

“Then I’m surprised you didn’t manage to slip away earlier,” he said, letting his index finger dip slightly inside of you before retracting it. You groaned in frustration. 

“I couldn’t,” you managed to get out. “They would be– oh– they would be too suspicious.”

Riddle had finally slid one single finger inside of you and began stroking your inner walls, coaxing a rush of desire from you. 

“Yes, too suspicious indeed,” he murmured, his eyes falling to your dripping cunt and increasing the pressure of his thumb against your clit a little more. “We can’t have them know what we do in private now, can we?” He finished this question with a harder touch of his thumb and a second finger added, causing you to gasp out his name and clutch at the bedsheets next to you. 

“Of course, I doubt they would believe us if you told them,” he continued conversationally, his slightly strained tone the only indication he wasn’t being entirely successful at carrying along this supposedly casual discussion. “As far as they are concerned, we despise each other.”

“I never said— I never said that wasn’t true,” you gritted out, your breathing shallowing out as he began thrusting his fingers pointedly in and out of your cunt, at a pace so slow you thought you would combust. “You are an asshole, and I do– fuck!” 

He pulled his fingers fully out and away from your panties, leaving you bereft and keening for more. You struggled up to prop yourself up on your elbows, glaring daggers at him. 

“You fucking asshole–” you began derisively, only for your mouth to go dry as he backed up on the bed and knelt down over your legs, his elbows coming to rest on either side of your thighs and his fingers toying inquisitively with the edges of your panties. 

“Would you like me to stop?” he asked innocently. “Only I rather fancied dessert– and you see, I spent too long studying in the library to try any of that treacle tart from the Great Hall you’re always raving about…”

“God, Riddle, just do it already!” You fell back on the bed in exhaustion as he tugged your panties the rest of the way down your legs and drew his mouth so close to your pussy you could feel his breath against your folds. 

“Oh yes,” he murmured, inhaling deeply and allowing his breath on the exhale to feather tantalizingly against you. “This should do very nicely.”

About as slowly as you’d ever known him to go, Riddle pressed his lips to your clit, sucking the little bundle of flesh into his mouth with such exquisite pleasure you cried out his name. One of his hands moved from the side of your thigh to toy between your folds, stroking you with such a maddeningly slow speed you could’ve screamed. He’d eaten you out before, but never this slowly and never before taking this much care to ensure you felt every single sensation possible. 

His index finger began shallowly thrusting into you while he licked and suckled your clit, responding to your gasps of pleasures with occasionally harder licks. Only when he had thoroughly left you a heaving mess on the bed did he draw his tongue down to your entrance and begin a series of quick strokes of his tongue into you. 

Blindly, you fisted your hands into his hair and groaned his name, overwhelmed by sensation and yet not having enough. He let out a hard breath against your pussy and increased his pace, the tip of his tongue delving deeper inside while his fingers moved to play with your clit again. 

“Fuck, Tom!” you choked out, his first name slipping out by accident. He was quickly losing patience and control, and you were hurtling towards your high faster than you could keep up with. 

He licked into you faster, pressing hard onto your clit with his thumb again and rubbing in tight, rapid circles until you cried out, reaching your peak and coming crashing down so hard you almost lost your breath. He worked you through it, this time with his fingers, until you were a limp heap on the bed, breathing fast and head spinning. 

For a long few minutes, you laid there, detachedly aware of Riddle shifting away from your legs and slowly making his way to the head of the bed.

Settling himself next to you, he stroked a hand languidly up and down your thigh until you’d recovered as much as possible. Only then did you manage to prop yourself up on your elbows and look tiredly to your right, meeting his calm mahogany eyes before your eyes shifted to the very noticeable dent in his trousers. 

“Mm,” you said sleepily, pushing yourself to a seated position and wincing slightly at the tenderness of your cunt, “Would you like some help with that?”

Riddle said nothing as you threw a leg over him, settling down against the bulge and finding your way to his lips. His fingers drifted to your arms as you kissed him, feathering into the sleeves of your unbuttoned blouse as you pulled his own shirt up and over his head. Your hips began a slow rock against his cock as your lips descended down his neck and to his bare chest, dragging your fingertips down until they reached his belt buckle. 

His hands caught your wrists.

“Wait,” he said softly, pausing your movements. You lifted your head with a frown to find him giving you an apologetic look. 

“I have prefect duty in twenty minutes.”

“That’s plenty of time!” you protested immediately, to which he chuckled. 

“Perhaps, but I’d prefer to arrive put-together on time than looking disheveled.”

You sat back down on his legs, causing him to grimace under the pressure against his cock. 

“You aren’t helping,” he gritted out, and you crossed your arms. 

“You aren’t letting me,” you countered. He only gave you a slight shake of his head before nudging you off of him. 

“Another time,” he promised, finally succeeding in getting you off of him. You sighed in defeat and retrieved your bra and panties, along with your skirt. Riddle, too, climbed off the bed and reached for his shirt, which you couldn’t help but be slightly disappointed about. 

As you were fixing your makeup and readjusting your uniform, you caught sight of something in the mirror. On the side of your neck was a fairly large mark, glistening red with slight streaks of purple. 

“Riddle,” you said immediately, your hands falling from your collar. “What’s this?”

“Mm?” 

You turned to face him. He was fixing his hair, his shirt still off but prefect badge already in hand. His eyes fell upon your neck and he raised an eyebrow inquisitively. 

“What about it?”

“It’s a hickey. You gave me a hickey. How am I supposed to explain this to my friends?” you asked in mild irritation, digging through your bag to see if you had your concealer on hand. Thankfully, you did, but after applying the product it became clear you couldn’t completely hide the mark. 

“No one will ask. And if they do, you can simply tell them it is of no concern to them,” Riddle said easily, shrugging into the sleeves of his shirt.

“I’m not so sure about that,” you muttered, but even so, you wrapped your scarf around your neck. It hid the mark well enough, you supposed. 

“I can give you another in a less obvious place, if you would like,” Riddle suggested, beginning to button up his shirt. 

“Oh, stop,” you said, but had to bite back a smile. “You said we don’t have time, and anyways, I should be off. I need to get a head start on that Herbology assignment.”

“You mean the one due on Monday?”

You gave him an exasperated look. “Yes. What about it?”

“I had it finished ages ago, and you haven’t started. But I suppose that will reflect in our grades, won’t it?” He raised his eyes to meet yours as he looped his tie around his neck, baiting you into an argument. You were not going to fall for it. 

“Nice try, Riddle,” you said instead, swinging your bag onto your shoulder and heading towards the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Riddle agreed, his attention already back on his tie. 

You gave him a nod and left the room, but didn’t see his eyes lingering on your back as the door closed behind you. 

༺ ✧ ༻

You pulled the collar of your cloak up as you weaved down the crowded Hogsmeade streets, following your friends as they made their way to Honeydukes. Since Stephanie’s visit to Hogwarts was coming to an end, Eloise had insisted on joining the group of students going down to the village today. You were supposed to meet Riddle in his dorm in the morning, but had needed to cancel at the last minute. Your friends would have been too suspicious otherwise, since they knew you would never pass up an opportunity for butterbeer. 

“You have to try the chocolate-covered cockroaches,” Eloise told Stephanie as you approached the shop. “They sound gross, but they’re actually pretty–”

“A chocolate covered what?” Stephanie gasped, coming to a stop. 

“Yeah, cockroaches. But like I said, they’re not too bad,” Eloise said, waving her hand dismissively. Stephanie shook her head, taking a step back. 

“Absolutely not! You try to make me eat one of those and I’ll–” She broke off suddenly, her attention turned towards you and frowning at something over your shoulder. “Who’s that?”

Confused, you turned around, only for your stomach to drop when you saw exactly who was coming up behind you. 

“Hey!” you said immediately, nerves making their way into your tone before you could stop them. Riddle had never before dared to approach you with your friends present. You had both agreed it would be better to keep up appearances than to risk it. 

“Hello,” Riddle said politely, his eyes flicking towards the half-empty bottle in your hand. “I see you already secured your butterbeer.”

Despite yourself, you smiled a little. “Couldn’t miss it, could I?”

“Of course not,” he agreed smoothly, clasping his hands behind his back. “Will I see you tonight for our usual study session?”

Today was Saturday, so your usual study session consisted of Riddle’s fingers knuckle-deep inside of you.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you assured him. The corner of his mouth curled up in a smile. 

“Excellent. I will see you later,” he said, and gave you a little nod before tilting his head curiously to the side. “By the way, it appears you have something on the side of your neck.”

Your eyes widened and you opened your mouth to stammer out some sort of defensive response, but he had already turned around and was walking away. The slight stiffness of his shoulders was the only indication you hadn’t completely hallucinated that comment.

Already, irritation crept in. You’d both agreed to keep interactions to a minimum, and now here he was, making what was practically a blatant reference to the hickey he had given you on your neck! 

Insufferable man, you grumbled to yourself, but you forced yourself to quickly recover and turn to face your friends again. 

“I swear, Riddle needs to learn to mind his business,” you told them, shaking your head wryly. 

“That’s Tom Riddle?” Stephanie asked, her mouth half-open in shock. You frowned, glancing behind you at Riddle’s retreating form and taking a sip of your butterbeer. 

“Yeah? What about him?”

“I thought you two were dating!” 

You choked on your butterbeer. 

“What?” you gasped when you could finally breathe again. “Dating?!”

“Yes! You seemed awfully comfortable with each other.”

You quickly shook your head. “We’re definitely not dating,” you assured her. “We just study together so often… well, I guess we get used to each other.” You shrugged hoping to dismiss the comment and change the topic. Unfortunately, it appeared she had other ideas. 

Stephanie made a face. “Academic rivals who study together? Aren’t you supposed to… I don’t know, ignore each other except in class?”

“No. How else are we supposed to judge the other’s progress?” you asked, looking to Eloise and Scarlett for backup. To your chagrin, they were giving you odd looks too. “What?”

“Nothing,” Scarlett said, shaking her head but looking unconvinced. “It’s just that… well, you and Riddle do seem to spend a lot of time together.”

You let out what was intended to be a careless laugh, but it came out more nervous. “We just study together; that’s all,” you repeated, but the excuse sounded feeble in your ears. What would they say if they knew about all the other times you saw Riddle that was definitely not just studying? 

“Stephanie is right, though,” Eloise agreed. “You claim to hate him, but…”

“This is ridiculous,” you said stubbornly, ignoring the rising fear that all the times you had ignored that little voice in your head, saying you couldn’t continue fucking Riddle and have things remain the same forever. 

“Is it, though?” Stephanie asked, following you as you took a couple steps in the direction of Honeydukes. You had to move this conversation along, now. “Are you sure you don’t like him?”

You scoffed. “No, we hate each other,” you said, like it should be obvious, but you weren’t sure if you believed yourself anymore. From the corner of your eye, you watched as your friends exchanged glances. Your stomach felt like it had bottomed out, and your heart was sinking. 

Why had Riddle felt the need to make that comment about your not-so-obvious hickey? You thought you had hidden it pretty well, all things considered. But now, your friends were beginning to suspect there was more to your rivalry with Riddle than you let on, and you were losing confidence in your ability to keep everything under control. 

Your fist clenched by your side and you forced yourself to keep walking. 

Merlin, you hated him. 

༺ ✧ ༻

The door to Riddle’s dorm slammed shut behind you.

You marched in, dumping your cloak and bag unceremoniously on the floor and stalking over to where Riddle was seated at his desk, studying. He didn’t even look up. 

“What the hell was that?” you snapped, frustration at him finally pouring over. 

With a maddeningly slow speed, he finished writing his sentence and put his quill down, looking up at you with a calm expression on his face. 

“What was what?”

“That shit you pulled in Hogsmeade! Talking to me, pointing out the hickey–”

“Oh, am I not allowed to talk to you? I do apologise,” he drawled, in a tone that made it very clear he was not sorry in the least. 

“Stop playing dumb, Riddle, it’s not a good look. You could’ve blown our whole cover,” you grumbled, crossing your arms and dropping into a seat on the bed. 

“Our cover?” Riddle asked, standing up and coming over to stand near you. “And what would that be? You mean, you pretending to hate me?”

The color drained from your face. “I’m not pretending anything.”

“Aren’t you?” He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms to mirror your position and giving you an appraising look. “Or are you simply too much of a coward to admit it yet?”

You launched up. “What the fuck is your problem?” you hissed, anger pulsing through your veins. “I thought we agreed that this was just going to be– to be–”

“To be what, exactly?” 

“Just sex!” you burst out. “Nothing more, nothing less. I thought we both understood that it would never go any farther because we didn’t want it to.”

Riddle scoffed. “Are you presuming to tell me that you never wanted anything more than sex? Ever?”

You faltered. Yes, you had wanted more on occasion, but you would have never admitted it to yourself and least of all to Riddle. You knew he would never want the same– plus, you were completely fine with things just staying physical. However much you loathed him, you did have to concede he was good in bed.

“I’m not presuming to tell you anything,” you said instead, artfully evading the question and pressing your hand to your head. A dull headache was coming on. “All I’m saying is that you– that we– should be more careful in the future. My friends are suspicious enough as it is. So maybe we should… I don’t know. Maybe we should take a break, for a while.”

Riddle’s eyebrows shot up. “A break?”

“Just for a little bit. Until things cool down,” you said, hoping the waver in your voice wasn’t detectable. Unfortunately for you, Riddle noticed everything– especially when it came to you. 

“A break,” he repeated, almost derisively. “Is that really what you want?”

“It’s what’s best,” you said stubbornly. Riddle shook his head, beginning to pace in front of you. 

“That isn’t what you want,” he said slowly. “Not at all.”

You scoffed. “Says who?”

“Me. And, of course, your mind.”

You frowned. “My mind–?” Your heart dropped. “You used Legilimancy on me?”

Riddle shrugged. “Perhaps,” he said lightly. “If you weren’t telling me the truth, I knew your thoughts would.”

“My God, Riddle, has anyone ever told you that you are such a prick?” 

“You have, actually,” Riddle interrupted. “Many times.”

“Then I was completely right,” you muttered, anger and hurt simmering in your chest. You grit your teeth as you stood, pushing past him and striding towards the door. Or trying to, at least. A hand on your waist stopped you.

You whirled back around, ready to argue or yell or anything that would allow you to release your feelings without telling him anything else, but the look in his eyes stopped you.

“I do not wish to take a break from you,” he said, voice barely above a whisper but so stern you knew it was not a request. “In fact, I wish quite the opposite.”

You tilted your chin up defiantly. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Must I spell it out for you? I–” He grit his teeth and straightened up, looking like this was the most painful conversation he’d ever had. “I enjoy our activities. I admit I was hesitant at first, but it has turned out to be a most pleasurable experience and–”

“My God, get to the point!” you exclaimed in exasperation, taking a step back from him. His hand fell from your waist but he quickly took a step forwards, glaring down at you and clenching his fists by his side. 

“The point is that I would very much prefer we never take a break from each other. Ever. Or at least– at least not in the foreseeable future.” 

“Sorry, Riddle, but are you suggesting we date?” you scoffed, the idea so preposterous you could only laugh. His answer made your stomach drop.

“Yes.” 

All comebacks died on your tongue and your hands fell limply by your sides, unable to do anything except stare. 

“Are– are you being serious?” you asked when you finally got your voice back, half-convinced this was a ploy but losing confidence when you saw the way Riddle’s jaw was clenched, and the way his fingers were twitching agitatedly against the fabric of his robes, like he was having to resist the urge to reach out and touch you. 

You were surprised to realise you would like nothing more than for him to touch you at this very moment. 

“Riddle,” you said breathlessly, then– “Tom.”

You took a careful step forward, waiting until your front brushed up against his to raise your hand and slide it over his jaw. He let out a hard breath, tilting his head downwards until his lips were mere centimeters from yours. 

“Yes,” you whispered, then, slowly, pressed your lips to his.

You’d long ago lost count of the number of times you’d kissed Tom, or he’d kissed you. It had almost always been before or after sex, very rarely during. Aside from your first kiss– approximately seven hours before you’d pulled him into bed for the very first time and started this entire arrangement– you’d never kissed him without any pretense of sex. So this felt different, certainly, but not at all disagreeable. 

It actually felt rather nice. 

You looped your arms around his neck and held yourself closer, shifting slightly against the growing bulge in his trousers with a self-satisfied []. He groaned, his hips bumping into yours impatiently. You laughed and drew back, fixing him with a mock-reprimanding look. 

“Can’t even wait a whole five minutes?” you remarked, earning an eye roll and exasperated sigh. 

“If you recall, last time we met I was left thoroughly unsatisfied,” he reminded you. 

“At your insistence!” you countered. He simply shrugged, taking a step back and leading you to the bed with him. 

“Well, then, it appears we have unfinished business,” he murmured, falling back onto the mattress and pulling you with him. 

“It appears we do,” you agreed against his lips, before he tugged you against him in a searing kiss. 

A/N: I debated extending this last scene but figured I was already at 5.5k so I should leave it, or potentially revisit it in a drabble if anyone is interested. 

general taglist: @viperify @xgloomy-kittenx @sea-lit-stars @kenobi-baby @rvvencrux @beelzebzb @m-mally @s00ty-feet @sophiadauno @cherrytintedlens @lunxrstellx @peony-haze @h0eforjp @mintydew @voldemortcest @coryoslut @frederissa @inlovewithallmusic @priv-rose

event taglist: @foxherder @whatupbuttercup2019

[ronniewritesthings]

im losing my mind i love this queen so much holy shit

[dreaming-of-epiphanies]

𝓣𝓱𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝓶𝓼

Description: One stormy night, Tom tells you three words he's never said before, but that he's shown in every single one of his actions.

A/N: Posting while I polish up chapter 3 of Just A Façade... I'm re-editing that chapter rn, and writing fics for a celebration event next week so those are my priority at the moment. :) Also I was literally writing this in my head while I was at work the other day 😭

Warnings: none. Just fluff.

You had always loved thunderstorms. 

Actually, scratch that- Tom had always loved thunderstorms. He loved to sit and watch them, seeing the way the lightning lit up the dark, cloudy sky and how the rain pattered furiously against the windowpane. Watching storms at night was one of his favorite things to do, especially when he couldn’t sleep or was staying up late doing homework.

You, on the other hand, had never liked thunderstorms too much. The loud claps of thunder, the bright flashes of lightning, the deluge of rain… you’d just never really been a fan of them. You didn’t mind them, but they weren’t anything of note. 

That all changed when you started dating Tom. 

Whenever there was a thunderstorm, he’d find his way into your dorm room. The soft creak of the door, a second or two of darkness as he passed in front of your window, and finally the soft brush of his hands on your arm, letting you know he was there. 

He wasn’t too affectionate when you two were in public, but during these thunderstorms when it was all dark and quiet, he’d hold you close and kiss your head and let you know how much he cared for you. Wordlessly, perhaps, but he made sure you knew all the same. 

Tonight was no different. 

It had started raining when you were getting ready for bed. Lightly at first, and then the thunder started. You found yourself smiling around your toothbrush. He always showed up during storms, but he tended to arrive faster if there was thunder. 

You’d stayed up reading for sometime, then turned the light off once the lightning had become visible. In the darkness of your room, you watched out the window as lightning streaked across the dark sky. Not long went by before you heard the telltale sign of your door opening. 

Slowly, footsteps made their way across the room and towards your bed. A gentle hand brushed against your arm, and you smiled up at the shadowy figure. 

Neither of you said anything as he climbed into bed next to you, wrapping his arms around you and letting you rest your head on your shoulder. He settled back, fixing his gaze on the window as you allowed yourself to relax, watching the storm outside with lazy interest. Even as almost an hour passed by, you found yourself not tired at all. You kept still, though, breathing deeply and enjoying watching the storm rage on outside.

Tom had remained silent this entire time. Other than the occasional shift in his position, you could’ve thought he was sleeping. You knew Tom, though: he wouldn’t fall asleep til after the storm was over. Even if that meant he was up the entire night. 

But perhaps he thought you had fallen asleep, as you normally did after some time of storm-watching. Because suddenly he inhaled, slightly shakily, and whispered so quietly you wondered if he’d meant for you to hear it all:

“I love you.” 

Your breath caught in your throat. It was the first time he’d said that to you. It was the first time either of you had said that. You’d both shown each other countless times it was how you felt, but it had never been spoken aloud. You knew Tom loved you, even if he didn’t say it. And he knew you loved him, even if you hadn’t said it yet. 

A few more minutes passed by and he slowly relaxed as the storm began to lighten up. Soon, the thunder and lightning had stopped, and only a few more drops of rain pattered against the window. His breathing started to even out, and you could sense him drifting off to sleep. 

“I love you too,” you whispered. He stiffened slightly, and you smiled, snuggling deeper into his arms. He hesitated, before pulling you closer and settling back down. 

The storm started up again a few minutes later, but neither of you noticed. You were already both asleep. 

And maybe, just maybe, you loved thunderstorms too. 

A/N (again): Partially inspired by @anawritez-posts and @viperify and their fics about quiet moments with Tom at night!

Taglist: @viperify @m-mally @kenobi-baby @princesspeach0-0

[ronniewritesthings]

i'm a year late to this but idgaf THIS IS SO CUTEEE

[viperify]

nerd!Tom loves grinding his cock over your pussy!

warnings: mature content. nerd!Tom uses you (and your pussy) as a study reward. no p in v, just some messy grinding, he cums on our pussy, cum play, fingering, LOTS OF PRAISE!

author's note: I intended this to be shorter but ig I have to make up for my absence anyway so...

wordcount: 1,9k

Innocent cuddling with Tom is nearly unheard of. Whenever he has you waiting for him on his bed after a long day of reading and revising for his next presentation or exam, his first instinct is to hold you close, to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck and breathe in your scent.

And sometimes, right then, he'd drift off to a peaceful nap. His larger body splayed over yours as his chest rises and falls gently—and you'd join him not too long after, relishing the rare moments you get to have him just for yourself, your fingers tracing the subtle muscles on his back, soothing the strain of supporting his tireless efforts to remain Hogwarts' top student.

However, most of the time, it is not quite that innocent.

Because not only is your boyfriend a nerd who spends nearly every single minute of his free time combing through a massive pile of books and documents, no, he's also a needy freak, contrary to the belief of perhaps… everyone else.

Believe it or not, he enjoys being on top of you more than he enjoys being on top of every class—he said so himself after all, intoxicated by the feeling of your sweet pussy squeezing around him, his mind hazy with lust.

But still, they were his words.

And Tom lives up to them. No matter how tired his eyes are or how much his back aches from being hunched over books all day, he still finds time for you, finds the energy to rut his thick cock into your warm walls, even if gently and awfully slowly so.

Today has been no different. You've been in his dorm for hours while he is preparing for an upcoming Potions project, which he's only aware of because he's Slughorn's favourite student and he let him know. Claiming he needs to be ahead of everyone else if he wanted to score another Outstanding, Tom naturally hasn't rested since.

You do not try to argue with him anymore, try to tell him that even if he started two weeks after everyone else, he'd still receive just the same grade.

Instead, you've been watching him, splayed across his huge bed, which he has the honour of owning as a Prefect and Head Boy, distracting yourself with a novel (non-educational, obviously) until he had enough and joined you. The sun had just started to set at that point, weak rays bathing his dorm in a subtle golden glow. Tom crossed the bed, crawled over you, and fit his body perfectly between your legs, resting his head on your chest.

And now, just a few minutes later—all of his usual innocence has evaporated at last. His hips rut his full-blown erection against your lower tummy, his hot breaths coming fast and laboured as his face stays buried in the crook of your neck.

"So good to me," he whimpers, one of his warm hands on your thigh, holding you open for him, the other interlocked with yours. "So patient."

You hum in agreement, angling your hips upwards so as to encourage him to finally get on with it—and Tom gets the hint, although a little differently than you anticipated.

He flips up your skirt, having it pool around your waist, and then sits back and studies you. His gaze is fixed on the damp spot that has formed on the cotton lining of your panties, swallowing the urge to be inside you.

"So pretty," he murmurs, his thumb brushing along the length of your slick underwear, tracing your slit through the fabric until he reaches what he knows to be your clit—applying gentle pressure, circling slowly with just the tip of his thumb.

Tom observes your every reaction—from the way your lips part for a silent gasp to your hips bucking off the bed, chasing his touch, begging him for more. And if he is being truthful with himself… neither does he have the patience to wait any longer.

He hurriedly tugs his trousers and underwear down his legs, carelessly discarding them somewhere on the floor before he hovers over you again, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips—but as soon as you hook your fingers into your panties, he grabs your wrist and stops you.

"Don't undress," he whispers, looking down at you with his gentle, brown eyes, placing your hand beside you. "I'd like for you to keep them on for now."

You meet his gaze with a confused expression, but you nod nonetheless—anything if he finally lets you feel him.

His head dips to brush kisses down the side of your neck, and the next moment his body lowers to rest on top of yours—his cock perfectly nestled between your thighs, rubbing against your clothed pussy with every slight twitch of his hips.

"Tom, please, I—" you whine, wrapping your legs around his lower back, pressing yourself up against him. "I've been waiting so long, please don't— oh—"

"Shhh," Tom murmurs with a strained voice, nipping at your throat gently, grinding his length along your soaked panties, the head of his cock brushing over your swollen clit with every tender move of his hips. "Need you like this. It'll feel so good, I promise. You trust me, right?"

You nod eagerly, trying your best to concentrate on the blissful, tingly feeling in your core whenever you feel the slightest friction where you desire it most. "Yes, Tommy. Please, more."

He hums lowly in approval, his hands at the back of your head, tilting your head towards his to kiss you thoroughly this time. "Good girl. So perfect, allowing me to have you like this."

You open your mouth to respond, though the only sound that leaves you is a broken moan, thighs trembling as he sets a cruel pace, making sure to give your clit just enough attention to make you soft and pliant beneath him.

Tom continues with this for what feels like an eternity—rutting his hot, thick erection against your pussy, swollen and dripping with need at a cruel, slow pace. Your arousal has long soaked through the thin cotton fabric and inevitably coated his cock in a glistening layer of your combined arousal, his precum adding to the mess where your bodies are tightly connected.

You're so drunk on the feeling of his cock grinding over your pussy, you at first don't even recognise the warmth of your climax building low in your tummy—but he does.

Because it is not solely you whose senses are screaming for more.

Tom craves the feeling of your slick pussy, of your tight heat embracing him, pulsing around him—and so, he gently tugs your panties to the side, watching as his cock disappears between your glistening folds.

He nearly comes then and there just from the sweet, wet warmth of your skin on his, groaning as he slips upwards with ease, his hips stuttering at the increased sensitivity. "Fuck, darling— what on earth are you doing to me?"

His tip reappears to bump against your sensitive bud, having you moan in pleasure, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, holding his gaze. "Don't— don't stop."

Tom shakes his head, lips parted as his breathing grows heavier with each passing second, and brushes a kiss on your jaw. "I wouldn't dream of it."

And then, a split second later, his pace quickens—he's grinding against you with purpose now, mumbling strings of praises while he makes you watch his swollen cock make a mess of your pussy, gliding between your folds as though it had belonged there all this time.

The room fills with your combined sounds of pleasure, with the slick noises of him gliding between your puffy, sticky folds and his endless praises for you.

When you get too wet, he uses his thumb to keep himself from slipping out, and you nearly lose it at the increased pressure and precision.

If he doesn't stop this soon, you'll lose your damn mind.

"Tom, I need you inside— inside, please," you cry out, your climax approaching fast while you can't do anything but take what he's currently giving you—perfectly angled thrusts right over your clit, which have you seeing stars.

But Tom has different plans.

He sits up just slightly, letting his cock slip free to guide it lower towards your entrance—but instead of pushing inside, he merely lets his tip bump against your drooling hole, with three or four shallow thrusts. Enough to give you an idea of what he'd feel like inside—heavy and leaky, thick veins bulging beneath his skin and stretching across his entire length, yet not to actually push inside.

Damn him.

As hopeful as you were—the feeling is gone as soon as it came.

"I want you to come for me," Tom rasps, grinding against your sloppy folds again. "Just like this. Nothing else—just me, here."

"You're— oh God, you're impossible," you whine, but cannot deny that your orgasm isn't far—and Tom knows it.

With every rough thrust, his hand guides himself to where you need him most, and within minutes he has you right where he wants you—on the very brink of your climax, begging the waves to consume you whole.

Tom too is close, breathlessly whispering praises as his head dips to your neck once more. "So beautiful, sweetheart, so good to me— always so patient and pliant, I— fuck—"

His thrusts falter then, cock twitching between your sticky folds, a throaty groan escaping him when ropes of thick, white cum paint your glistening pussy opaque white. It's so much, you can feel it seeping down the length of your slit, gathering at your neglected hole before it drips onto the silk comforter beneath you.

Tom allows his senses to return to him before he lifts himself off you, appreciating the mess between your thighs—and when you try to close your legs, he stops you.

"Just a little bit longer, darling. Show me how pretty you look," he says, and you obey.

His fingers trace the white residue, smearing it where it belongs—in between your folds and over your clit. You whimper, back arching off the bed at the touch, and just like you've wanted it all along, two of his long, slender fingers gently slip inside your warm walls, using his cum as additional lube—not that you need it, but the mere sight of it has his cock hardening once more.

Tom curls his fingers just right—rubbing over that perfect spot inside you while his other hand takes care of your puffy clit.

"Tommy, mmph— fuck!"

A smirk tugs on his lips at the state of you—all fucked out even though he never let you feel him inside you in the first place, his fingers eliciting the sweetest moans from your bite-swollen lips, teary eyes staring up at him.

Just how he likes you.

"Come for me, pretty girl. Show me how good you can truly be."

thank you so much for reading! <3 feel free to reblog and leave feedback! :3 — masterlist. | oneshots.

©2026 viperify. please do not copy, translate or claim my work as your own.

𑁤 main taglist:

@glowingatdawn @whimpurrin @cb97s-babyygirl @cexoria @yuunarii-arii @kzylvr @eleventhboi @melodymoo2 @venomous0 @dreaming-of-epiphanies @simplyastra @revesephemeres

yall vs me (ily baby)

[ronniewritesthings]

omg omg omg omg

[ronniewritesthings]

FOUND AGAIN

a/n: this is a 'x f!reader' fic. there will be no mention of the reader's appearance (other than her clothes), first name, race, or any other identifying features. i gave her a surname (Kerrigan) purely for the sake of convenience in dialogue, but you can just replace it in your head with your own.

her blood status is implied to be pureblood, but there is no actual confirmation on that so you can insert whatever lineage you want. the only info on her family that i took the liberty of putting in was making her parents criminals in the wizarding community, since it made the most sense for her being in the orphanage/transferring schools.

anyway, hope you enjoy! ⊹₊⟡⋆

SUMMARY

Riddle and Kerrigan grew up together. Well, sort of. Kerrigan was briefly placed in Wool’s Orphanage while her parents were in prison for crimes against wizard-kind, leaving them unable to care for her. While in public housing, she met Tom. A mysterious boy, but one that seemed to understand her. Kerrigan and Riddle were each other’s only friends in the years she was at the orphanage with him. When Professor Dumbledore arrived with acceptance letters for the two pre-teens, they were elated. They would finally be someplace where they weren’t outcasts or freaks. Somewhere they belonged.

The first two years of Hogwarts were spent by each other’s side, researching ancient histories and honing their magical skills. But in the summer of 1940, when Mr. and Mrs. Kerrigan were released from prison, they took back their daughter and moved across the pond – forcing her to transfer to the North American wizarding school, Ilvermorny. Her and Tom wrote each other letters in their years of separation, remaining each other’s closest friends despite the distance.

In the fall of 1944, during Riddle’s seventh and final year at Hogwarts, Headmaster Dippet announced that the school would be the host of the first Triwizard Tournament in over a century. The two were reunited once again, but the four years they spent apart changed the both of them drastically from who they once were. With Riddle going down a path toward darkness and Kerrigan finally finding her own sense of purpose, will the once unbreakable friendship stand, or will their allyship finally yield to fate?

series content labels/warnings: tom riddle x fem!reader, mentions of childhood trauma (relating to Wool's and such), friends-to-strangers, strangers-to-lovers, mentions of murder (tom is evil), dark themes, angst with fluff sprinkled in, smut later in the series (not until they're 18), ooc tom riddle (he is capable of feeling love), hogwarts as its own trigger warning

PROLOGUE (Tom's POV)

wc: 1.1k

Friday September 15, 1944. Exactly two weeks since Tom’s seventh year at Hogwarts began. His final year. With his O.W.L.S complete and his N.E.W.T.S on the way, Tom spent the entirety of his summer studying. Normally, he would have liked to get a head start on studying for his final exams, but his summer between fifth and sixth year was a bit busy… so he had to settle for some, what he considers to be, last-minute review. Sure, he could have waited until the school year started, but he figured that with the recent news he had received, he would be a bit distracted from his studies during the year. 

The table in front of him was decorated with a green and silver table runner, with matching colors adorning his and his classmates’ robes. Empty plates were waiting to be filled with conjured meats, vegetables, and desserts– while excited students hovered over them in anticipation. Although dinner in the Great Hall was normally optional, Headmaster Dippet called for a special feast, in which attendance was required. Students all around were whispering about what the occasion could possibly be; but Tom was silent, because he already knew.

‘I’ll see you soon.’ Those were the last words in her letter, other than her signature. The words that had been replaying in his mind since June. For the first time in 152 years, the Triwizard Tournament would be taking place – with Hogwarts being the hosting school. The competition was called off indefinitely after the last tournament in 1792, due to the high death toll of the students. But magic had evolved significantly since then, and new safety measures were put in place, allowing the tournament to commence once more. The trials would still be challenging, some of them even dangerous, but thankfully not life threatening. 

Tom never cared for sports, choosing to sit-out every Quidditch match that took place on the weekends, but he found himself intrigued this time. The two other schools what would be attending were Mahoutokoro, the magic school located on one of the isles in Japan, and Ilvermorny, the North-American wizarding school– founded by one of Slytherin’s descendants, and attended by her. After four years of being apart, Tom Riddle would be reunited with his closest friend.

The chatter in the room died as Dippet stood in front of his podium. “Attention students,” the Headmaster raised his wand to his throat, casting a silent Sonorus spell. “There will come a time in everyone’s life where they will be asked to demonstrate a tremendous amount of courage. This demonstration may take many forms, depending on the individual,”

Although he typically didn’t care for Headmaster Dippet’s droning speeches, Tom found himself tuning in this time. This speech was going somewhere. “The form does not matter so much as the intent. Whether it is a feat of athleticism, a test of the mind, or a show of one’s magical ability, we will all be tasked with an obstacle we must overcome. Wizarding schools all over the world have been given the task to train their students in such a way that you all will be prepared for whatever life throws at you,” A smile crosses Dippet’s face as he speaks. “I believe that I, and the many professors here at Hogwarts, have trained you well.” 

“It is because of this that I am glad to announce that, for the first time in almost two centuries, Hogwarts will be hosting the Triwizard Tournament.” The room descended into a series of hushed conversations and animated glances. Each of the houses stirred with a newfound excitement at the news, including the surrounding students at the Slytherin table. Tom was excited too, but he refused to show it, favoring his typically cool demeanor.

“Let us give a special welcome to our guests, who will be boarding with us for the remainder of the school year.”

The large doors to the Great Hall swung open, seemingly on their own, once Dippet gave the cue. Every head turned toward the entrance to see the witches and wizards that entered. First was Mahoutokoro. Rows and rows of students in robes of every color filed into the hall with practiced precision. Leading the way were five young wizards in garbs of gold, while a few dozen wizards dressed in pink flanked the group. They made their way down the aisle with grace, a few of the students raising their wands to add some illusionary effects to flourish their entrance. Tom watched the students gather to the left of Headmaster Dippet, near the Hufflepuff table. Mahoutokoro’s Headmaster, Kobayashi, shook hands with Dippet and exchanged a few quiet words of respect. Tom paid attention to the group, though this wasn’t the one he was most interested in.

Mulciber, who was seated on Tom’s right, leaned in to whisper to him. “I heard that Mahoutokoro has the best flyers in the world, they’ll surely be a challenge.” Tom gave him a nod, but chose not to grace him with a verbal response. Mulciber shrugged it off and turned to the rest of the group, gossiping about the new arrivals. Just as the crowd began to settle, the doors gave way to the second group.

About a hundred witches and wizards filled the entryway to the Great Hall. Tom immediately turned his head toward the group, making no effort to appear nonchalant. He didn’t care about his persona, not now. Loud, obnoxious horns blared in true American fashion, announcing the entrance of the students of Ilvermorny. Sparks flew from the foreign students’ wands, shooting fireworks high into the room. The students made their way down the aisle with a generous amount of ego, though not entirely undeserved. Freshly-pressed robes of blue and cranberry marched in tight lines, save for the three students leading the charge, who seemed to have shed their outerwear in favor of white button-downs and colored ties. Tom’s eyes immediately focused on the student walking front and center, her eyes gleaming with pride. Tom didn’t miss the hint of nostalgia that washed over her face as she looked around the room, following her Headmaster up to the main platform. Ilvermorny’s students were situated on Dippet’s right, closer to the Slytherin table. The girl shot Tom a knowing look, he returned it.

The surrounding noise of chattering students and sounding trumpets faded away as he met her gaze. His best friend, perhaps his only real one, stood tall and proud on the platform. The girl he met at Wool’s, the one who shared his same strange powers, the one who understood him like no other. The girl who left his side years ago, with no promise of return. A small smile, a genuine one, fell across Tom’s lips before he could stop it.

She’s back.

a/n: this will be a multi-chapter series. i'm aiming for 5-10 chapters spanning over the final year at hogwarts and a bit beyond, but who knows. more specific content labels/warnings will be added with each individual chapter

hope you guys are as excited for this as i am! if you like my work, please consider commenting and reblogging, as your feedback is incredibly motivating to me.

i'm thinking of creating a taglist for this series so if you want to be notified when chapter one comes out, let me know in the comments :)

k thanks bye bye ! ♡

©2026 ronniewritesthings. do not copy, translate, or claim my work as your own

[ronniewritesthings]

chapter one comes out monday 8pm PST !!! let me know if u wanna be on the taglist :D

[ronniewritesthings]

little update on how chapter one's going

there's gonna be a bit more exposition in this chapter, but i'm introducing a bit of tension

chapter two is where we're really gonna get a look into their relationship with each other, and potentially add to the angst

for now though, here's a glimpse into soft tom ♡

also side note: yes i know that the triwizard tournament traditionally only included the european wizarding schools, but cmon it's fanFICTION i'll do what i want hehe

- ronnie

[ronniewritesthings]

FOUND AGAIN

a/n: this is a 'x f!reader' fic. there will be no mention of the reader's appearance (other than her clothes), first name, race, or any other identifying features. i gave her a surname (Kerrigan) purely for the sake of convenience in dialogue, but you can just replace it in your head with your own.

her blood status is implied to be pureblood, but there is no actual confirmation on that so you can insert whatever lineage you want. the only info on her family that i took the liberty of putting in was making her parents criminals in the wizarding community, since it made the most sense for her being in the orphanage/transferring schools.

anyway, hope you enjoy! ⊹₊⟡⋆

SUMMARY

Riddle and Kerrigan grew up together. Well, sort of. Kerrigan was briefly placed in Wool’s Orphanage while her parents were in prison for crimes against wizard-kind, leaving them unable to care for her. While in public housing, she met Tom. A mysterious boy, but one that seemed to understand her. Kerrigan and Riddle were each other’s only friends in the years she was at the orphanage with him. When Professor Dumbledore arrived with acceptance letters for the two pre-teens, they were elated. They would finally be someplace where they weren’t outcasts or freaks. Somewhere they belonged.

The first two years of Hogwarts were spent by each other’s side, researching ancient histories and honing their magical skills. But in the summer of 1940, when Mr. and Mrs. Kerrigan were released from prison, they took back their daughter and moved across the pond – forcing her to transfer to the North American wizarding school, Ilvermorny. Her and Tom wrote each other letters in their years of separation, remaining each other’s closest friends despite the distance.

In the fall of 1944, during Riddle’s seventh and final year at Hogwarts, Headmaster Dippet announced that the school would be the host of the first Triwizard Tournament in over a century. The two were reunited once again, but the four years they spent apart changed the both of them drastically from who they once were. With Riddle going down a path toward darkness and Kerrigan finally finding her own sense of purpose, will the once unbreakable friendship stand, or will their allyship finally yield to fate?

series content labels/warnings: tom riddle x fem!reader, mentions of childhood trauma (relating to Wool's and such), friends-to-strangers, strangers-to-lovers, mentions of murder (tom is evil), dark themes, angst with fluff sprinkled in, smut later in the series (not until they're 18), ooc tom riddle (he is capable of feeling love), hogwarts as its own trigger warning

PROLOGUE (Tom's POV)

wc: 1.1k

Friday September 15, 1944. Exactly two weeks since Tom’s seventh year at Hogwarts began. His final year. With his O.W.L.S complete and his N.E.W.T.S on the way, Tom spent the entirety of his summer studying. Normally, he would have liked to get a head start on studying for his final exams, but his summer between fifth and sixth year was a bit busy… so he had to settle for some, what he considers to be, last-minute review. Sure, he could have waited until the school year started, but he figured that with the recent news he had received, he would be a bit distracted from his studies during the year. 

The table in front of him was decorated with a green and silver table runner, with matching colors adorning his and his classmates’ robes. Empty plates were waiting to be filled with conjured meats, vegetables, and desserts– while excited students hovered over them in anticipation. Although dinner in the Great Hall was normally optional, Headmaster Dippet called for a special feast, in which attendance was required. Students all around were whispering about what the occasion could possibly be; but Tom was silent, because he already knew.

‘I’ll see you soon.’ Those were the last words in her letter, other than her signature. The words that had been replaying in his mind since June. For the first time in 152 years, the Triwizard Tournament would be taking place – with Hogwarts being the hosting school. The competition was called off indefinitely after the last tournament in 1792, due to the high death toll of the students. But magic had evolved significantly since then, and new safety measures were put in place, allowing the tournament to commence once more. The trials would still be challenging, some of them even dangerous, but thankfully not life threatening. 

Tom never cared for sports, choosing to sit-out every Quidditch match that took place on the weekends, but he found himself intrigued this time. The two other schools what would be attending were Mahoutokoro, the magic school located on one of the isles in Japan, and Ilvermorny, the North-American wizarding school– founded by one of Slytherin’s descendants, and attended by her. After four years of being apart, Tom Riddle would be reunited with his closest friend.

The chatter in the room died as Dippet stood in front of his podium. “Attention students,” the Headmaster raised his wand to his throat, casting a silent Sonorus spell. “There will come a time in everyone’s life where they will be asked to demonstrate a tremendous amount of courage. This demonstration may take many forms, depending on the individual,”

Although he typically didn’t care for Headmaster Dippet’s droning speeches, Tom found himself tuning in this time. This speech was going somewhere. “The form does not matter so much as the intent. Whether it is a feat of athleticism, a test of the mind, or a show of one’s magical ability, we will all be tasked with an obstacle we must overcome. Wizarding schools all over the world have been given the task to train their students in such a way that you all will be prepared for whatever life throws at you,” A smile crosses Dippet’s face as he speaks. “I believe that I, and the many professors here at Hogwarts, have trained you well.” 

“It is because of this that I am glad to announce that, for the first time in almost two centuries, Hogwarts will be hosting the Triwizard Tournament.” The room descended into a series of hushed conversations and animated glances. Each of the houses stirred with a newfound excitement at the news, including the surrounding students at the Slytherin table. Tom was excited too, but he refused to show it, favoring his typically cool demeanor.

“Let us give a special welcome to our guests, who will be boarding with us for the remainder of the school year.”

The large doors to the Great Hall swung open, seemingly on their own, once Dippet gave the cue. Every head turned toward the entrance to see the witches and wizards that entered. First was Mahoutokoro. Rows and rows of students in robes of every color filed into the hall with practiced precision. Leading the way were five young wizards in garbs of gold, while a few dozen wizards dressed in pink flanked the group. They made their way down the aisle with grace, a few of the students raising their wands to add some illusionary effects to flourish their entrance. Tom watched the students gather to the left of Headmaster Dippet, near the Hufflepuff table. Mahoutokoro’s Headmaster, Kobayashi, shook hands with Dippet and exchanged a few quiet words of respect. Tom paid attention to the group, though this wasn’t the one he was most interested in.

Mulciber, who was seated on Tom’s right, leaned in to whisper to him. “I heard that Mahoutokoro has the best flyers in the world, they’ll surely be a challenge.” Tom gave him a nod, but chose not to grace him with a verbal response. Mulciber shrugged it off and turned to the rest of the group, gossiping about the new arrivals. Just as the crowd began to settle, the doors gave way to the second group.

About a hundred witches and wizards filled the entryway to the Great Hall. Tom immediately turned his head toward the group, making no effort to appear nonchalant. He didn’t care about his persona, not now. Loud, obnoxious horns blared in true American fashion, announcing the entrance of the students of Ilvermorny. Sparks flew from the foreign students’ wands, shooting fireworks high into the room. The students made their way down the aisle with a generous amount of ego, though not entirely undeserved. Freshly-pressed robes of blue and cranberry marched in tight lines, save for the three students leading the charge, who seemed to have shed their outerwear in favor of white button-downs and colored ties. Tom’s eyes immediately focused on the student walking front and center, her eyes gleaming with pride. Tom didn’t miss the hint of nostalgia that washed over her face as she looked around the room, following her Headmaster up to the main platform. Ilvermorny’s students were situated on Dippet’s right, closer to the Slytherin table. The girl shot Tom a knowing look, he returned it.

The surrounding noise of chattering students and sounding trumpets faded away as he met her gaze. His best friend, perhaps his only real one, stood tall and proud on the platform. The girl he met at Wool’s, the one who shared his same strange powers, the one who understood him like no other. The girl who left his side years ago, with no promise of return. A small smile, a genuine one, fell across Tom’s lips before he could stop it.

She’s back.

a/n: this will be a multi-chapter series. i'm aiming for 5-10 chapters spanning over the final year at hogwarts and a bit beyond, but who knows. more specific content labels/warnings will be added with each individual chapter

hope you guys are as excited for this as i am! if you like my work, please consider commenting and reblogging, as your feedback is incredibly motivating to me.

i'm thinking of creating a taglist for this series so if you want to be notified when chapter one comes out, let me know in the comments :)

k thanks bye bye ! ♡

©2026 ronniewritesthings. do not copy, translate, or claim my work as your own

[ronniewritesthings]

little update on how chapter one's going

there's gonna be a bit more exposition in this chapter, but i'm introducing a bit of tension

chapter two is where we're really gonna get a look into their relationship with each other, and potentially add to the angst

for now though, here's a glimpse into soft tom ♡

also side note: yes i know that the triwizard tournament traditionally only included the european wizarding schools, but cmon it's fanFICTION i'll do what i want hehe

- ronnie

[ronniewritesthings]

FOUND AGAIN

a/n: this is a 'x f!reader' fic. there will be no mention of the reader's appearance (other than her clothes), first name, race, or any other identifying features. i gave her a surname (Kerrigan) purely for the sake of convenience in dialogue, but you can just replace it in your head with your own.

her blood status is implied to be pureblood, but there is no actual confirmation on that so you can insert whatever lineage you want. the only info on her family that i took the liberty of putting in was making her parents criminals in the wizarding community, since it made the most sense for her being in the orphanage/transferring schools.

anyway, hope you enjoy! ⊹₊⟡⋆

SUMMARY

Riddle and Kerrigan grew up together. Well, sort of. Kerrigan was briefly placed in Wool’s Orphanage while her parents were in prison for crimes against wizard-kind, leaving them unable to care for her. While in public housing, she met Tom. A mysterious boy, but one that seemed to understand her. Kerrigan and Riddle were each other’s only friends in the years she was at the orphanage with him. When Professor Dumbledore arrived with acceptance letters for the two pre-teens, they were elated. They would finally be someplace where they weren’t outcasts or freaks. Somewhere they belonged.

The first two years of Hogwarts were spent by each other’s side, researching ancient histories and honing their magical skills. But in the summer of 1940, when Mr. and Mrs. Kerrigan were released from prison, they took back their daughter and moved across the pond – forcing her to transfer to the North American wizarding school, Ilvermorny. Her and Tom wrote each other letters in their years of separation, remaining each other’s closest friends despite the distance.

In the fall of 1944, during Riddle’s seventh and final year at Hogwarts, Headmaster Dippet announced that the school would be the host of the first Triwizard Tournament in over a century. The two were reunited once again, but the four years they spent apart changed the both of them drastically from who they once were. With Riddle going down a path toward darkness and Kerrigan finally finding her own sense of purpose, will the once unbreakable friendship stand, or will their allyship finally yield to fate?

series content labels/warnings: tom riddle x fem!reader, mentions of childhood trauma (relating to Wool's and such), friends-to-strangers, strangers-to-lovers, mentions of murder (tom is evil), dark themes, angst with fluff sprinkled in, smut later in the series (not until they're 18), ooc tom riddle (he is capable of feeling love), hogwarts as its own trigger warning

PROLOGUE (Tom's POV)

wc: 1.1k

Friday September 15, 1944. Exactly two weeks since Tom’s seventh year at Hogwarts began. His final year. With his O.W.L.S complete and his N.E.W.T.S on the way, Tom spent the entirety of his summer studying. Normally, he would have liked to get a head start on studying for his final exams, but his summer between fifth and sixth year was a bit busy… so he had to settle for some, what he considers to be, last-minute review. Sure, he could have waited until the school year started, but he figured that with the recent news he had received, he would be a bit distracted from his studies during the year. 

The table in front of him was decorated with a green and silver table runner, with matching colors adorning his and his classmates’ robes. Empty plates were waiting to be filled with conjured meats, vegetables, and desserts– while excited students hovered over them in anticipation. Although dinner in the Great Hall was normally optional, Headmaster Dippet called for a special feast, in which attendance was required. Students all around were whispering about what the occasion could possibly be; but Tom was silent, because he already knew.

‘I’ll see you soon.’ Those were the last words in her letter, other than her signature. The words that had been replaying in his mind since June. For the first time in 152 years, the Triwizard Tournament would be taking place – with Hogwarts being the hosting school. The competition was called off indefinitely after the last tournament in 1792, due to the high death toll of the students. But magic had evolved significantly since then, and new safety measures were put in place, allowing the tournament to commence once more. The trials would still be challenging, some of them even dangerous, but thankfully not life threatening. 

Tom never cared for sports, choosing to sit-out every Quidditch match that took place on the weekends, but he found himself intrigued this time. The two other schools what would be attending were Mahoutokoro, the magic school located on one of the isles in Japan, and Ilvermorny, the North-American wizarding school– founded by one of Slytherin’s descendants, and attended by her. After four years of being apart, Tom Riddle would be reunited with his closest friend.

The chatter in the room died as Dippet stood in front of his podium. “Attention students,” the Headmaster raised his wand to his throat, casting a silent Sonorus spell. “There will come a time in everyone’s life where they will be asked to demonstrate a tremendous amount of courage. This demonstration may take many forms, depending on the individual,”

Although he typically didn’t care for Headmaster Dippet’s droning speeches, Tom found himself tuning in this time. This speech was going somewhere. “The form does not matter so much as the intent. Whether it is a feat of athleticism, a test of the mind, or a show of one’s magical ability, we will all be tasked with an obstacle we must overcome. Wizarding schools all over the world have been given the task to train their students in such a way that you all will be prepared for whatever life throws at you,” A smile crosses Dippet’s face as he speaks. “I believe that I, and the many professors here at Hogwarts, have trained you well.” 

“It is because of this that I am glad to announce that, for the first time in almost two centuries, Hogwarts will be hosting the Triwizard Tournament.” The room descended into a series of hushed conversations and animated glances. Each of the houses stirred with a newfound excitement at the news, including the surrounding students at the Slytherin table. Tom was excited too, but he refused to show it, favoring his typically cool demeanor.

“Let us give a special welcome to our guests, who will be boarding with us for the remainder of the school year.”

The large doors to the Great Hall swung open, seemingly on their own, once Dippet gave the cue. Every head turned toward the entrance to see the witches and wizards that entered. First was Mahoutokoro. Rows and rows of students in robes of every color filed into the hall with practiced precision. Leading the way were five young wizards in garbs of gold, while a few dozen wizards dressed in pink flanked the group. They made their way down the aisle with grace, a few of the students raising their wands to add some illusionary effects to flourish their entrance. Tom watched the students gather to the left of Headmaster Dippet, near the Hufflepuff table. Mahoutokoro’s Headmaster, Kobayashi, shook hands with Dippet and exchanged a few quiet words of respect. Tom paid attention to the group, though this wasn’t the one he was most interested in.

Mulciber, who was seated on Tom’s right, leaned in to whisper to him. “I heard that Mahoutokoro has the best flyers in the world, they’ll surely be a challenge.” Tom gave him a nod, but chose not to grace him with a verbal response. Mulciber shrugged it off and turned to the rest of the group, gossiping about the new arrivals. Just as the crowd began to settle, the doors gave way to the second group.

About a hundred witches and wizards filled the entryway to the Great Hall. Tom immediately turned his head toward the group, making no effort to appear nonchalant. He didn’t care about his persona, not now. Loud, obnoxious horns blared in true American fashion, announcing the entrance of the students of Ilvermorny. Sparks flew from the foreign students’ wands, shooting fireworks high into the room. The students made their way down the aisle with a generous amount of ego, though not entirely undeserved. Freshly-pressed robes of blue and cranberry marched in tight lines, save for the three students leading the charge, who seemed to have shed their outerwear in favor of white button-downs and colored ties. Tom’s eyes immediately focused on the student walking front and center, her eyes gleaming with pride. Tom didn’t miss the hint of nostalgia that washed over her face as she looked around the room, following her Headmaster up to the main platform. Ilvermorny’s students were situated on Dippet’s right, closer to the Slytherin table. The girl shot Tom a knowing look, he returned it.

The surrounding noise of chattering students and sounding trumpets faded away as he met her gaze. His best friend, perhaps his only real one, stood tall and proud on the platform. The girl he met at Wool’s, the one who shared his same strange powers, the one who understood him like no other. The girl who left his side years ago, with no promise of return. A small smile, a genuine one, fell across Tom’s lips before he could stop it.

She’s back.

a/n: this will be a multi-chapter series. i'm aiming for 5-10 chapters spanning over the final year at hogwarts and a bit beyond, but who knows. more specific content labels/warnings will be added with each individual chapter

hope you guys are as excited for this as i am! if you like my work, please consider commenting and reblogging, as your feedback is incredibly motivating to me.

i'm thinking of creating a taglist for this series so if you want to be notified when chapter one comes out, let me know in the comments :)

k thanks bye bye ! ♡

©2026 ronniewritesthings. do not copy, translate, or claim my work as your own