Intricacies
Tom Riddle seems incapable of having relationships. He's cold and calculating, only ever pursuing his own darker goals. So what exactly is his relationship with you? WC: 2517 Category: Character Study, Romance? Links To Other Parts: 1 - 2 - 3
A/N: Hello and welcome to my first fanfic!! This is the first part to my mini series/vignettes called Complexities. I hope you do enjoy it!!
Tom Riddle and (Y/N) have an interesting relationship. Many don’t know what to call it exactly. Some would say she's simply a pet and too dumb to fight back as Head Girl. Others say she finally wore him down and he pretends he hates her to keep up his reputation as a boy with no weakness. There are even whispers that they're not dating and Tom just lets (Y/N) get away with saying anything for underhanded favours.
In reality, very few caught a glimpse of the nature of their relationship. And that number increased by one very recently.
It had started before defence against the dark arts, the pair's final class of the day. Before entering the classroom, Tom inspected the head girl: her tie was tight, her cloak fully buttoned up, hair neatly plaited, but her emerald necklace was slightly poking out of her collar.
“Fix that immediately.” He fiercely hushed her and pointed at the necklace. (Y/N) tried to look down and brought a hand to where he was pointing, feeling the cold silver exposed and mouthing a quick ‘oh’ before tucking it further. She quickly apologised as Tom rolled his eyes.
As they entered the classroom, Tom had instructed, as always, that (Y/N) sit at the front next to him to ensure her wits remained to his expected level. He had also commanded she only look at him or her parchment so that she may actually learn something in their class. After all, he reminded, there was no point in him keeping her around if she was just dead weight. (Y/N) promised.
True to her word, she remained studious with her quill and parchment or looking to Tom whenever he offered one of the sly corrections to their professor’s teaching that he seemed to always have. Most of their professors knew better than to question the pair. Their system worked and the two always scored highest in their exams. So, when class had ended and (Y/N) complimented Tom's teaching as he insulted the curriculum, he gave her one last order: To fetch some instructions in her dorm and complete research on his next project. He had evaluated her research skills long before she became Head Girl. She was faster than all her peers and quick at deciphering ancient runes from centuries ago. Delegating background research saved him hours. (Y/N) complained saying it would cut into her group study sessions and she'd been looking forward to quiz day and pummelling the Ravenclaw students again, but Tom wasn't going to be swayed. Regardless of the fact that her little quiz session would run less than one hour and her research would only take her two, leaving her well within the strict time limit of meeting at seven, Tom refused to have her focus on anything but his work. After his stern commands, (Y/N) agreed, saying he owed her a favour, something Tom always paid back.
(Y/N) had spent a good thirty minutes in the library reviewing every possible book Tom instructed her to and was currently on ‘Famously Expurgated Wizard Feats’. It wasn’t long after that one of her friends, an unlikely Hufflepuff from her quiz group who thought very little of Tom, had come over. (Y/N) waved to her and quickly apologised.
“Sorry about no-showing for the Herbology quiz session.” (Y/N) said and bowed. Her friend only looked at what was in her hands, a bunch of parchment she was concealing and a thick dusty book. She knew immediately what was going on.
“Riddle sent you on another one of his fetch and find errands?” She asked, annoyance lacing her tone. (Y/N) quickly came up with a half-truth.
“Sort of…” She trailed off. “It’s more prefect related stuff.” Her friend saw straight through the longing gaze (Y/N) held upon the ‘Prefect’.
“When was the last time he did some of your prefect work?” Her friend chided as (Y/N) raised an eyebrow to this.
“He doesn’t need to.” (Y/N) said as she tried to follow up, “But-” Her friend had already cut her off.
“Exactly.” (Y/N)’s friend shook her head. “Just because he’s been Head Boy for longer doesn’t mean you need to listen to everything he says.” She said, exasperated. “You’re head girl! You’re supposed to be equal!” (Y/N) shook her head.
“It’s not like that-” (Y/N) was quickly cut off.
“Oh? Then why does he control where you sit?” (Y/N) huffed at the accusation framed as a question.
“He has me sit next to him, so I remain top of the class.” (Y/N)’s friend rolled her eyes.
“You were top of the class before that!” (Y/N) folded her arms.
“He makes sure I remain at the top.” (Y/N)’s friend pointed to her.
“He tells you who you can spend time with.” (Y/N) shook her head.
“No, he doesn’t?” She refuted her friend’s point, but was more curious where that had come from.
“I mean he’s telling you to skip your own study group.” (Y/N)’s friend explained more clearly. (Y/N) shook her head.
“This project is important.” (Y/N) paused before giving one last counterpoint. “Besides, quiz happens every week. I’ll be there next week.” (Y/N) assured as her friend looked completely unconvinced, trying one last time.
“(Y/N).” Her friend said sternly. “He’s always sending you on these-” she used air quotes for her next word, “assignments-” she brought her hands down, “why do you think that is?” Her friend tried to lead her to the answer she was worried (Y/N) didn’t want to face.
“Because he trusts me.” (Y/N) answered as her friend scoffed.
“Trusts you?” (Y/N) nodded.
“Then why can’t he trust you with going to a study group?” (Y/N) sighed, shaking her head.
“It’s not about that; this project is clearly important.” (Y/N)’s friend had reached her breaking point.
“How the hell does ‘Famously Expurgated Wizard Feats’ have anything to do with prefect business?!” (Y/N) had to form another lie quickly.
“It’s for Slughorn’s class next year.” (Y/N) said confidently, shaking her head. “Tom suggested we get ahead.” Her Hufflepuff friend groaned.
“Even if I believe that, all you ever do is listen to him!” Her friend nearly yelled. “He knows he can get away with asking you for these things because you never say no.” (Y/N) squinted her eyes at this.
“Isn’t that more of your house’s trait?” Her friend was taken aback with shock.
“Look, I’m just worried about you.” (Y/N) shook her head, trying to ease the Hufflepuff.
“You don’t need to be, I’m fine.” (Y/N) confirmed, before she sighed again, “And if it makes you feel any better…” (Y/N) trailed off before continuing, “I like doing these things for him. I like helping people. It’s how I got Head Girl in the first place.” She softly smiled despite seeing the unamused face of her friend. She tilted her head to one side as she spoke, “And besides, not only do I get smarter,” She tilted her head to the other side, “but I get in his good books too.” She then shrugged and had a Cheshire grin. “And besides, I know he likes me.” (Y/N)’s friend scoffed, muttering to herself as she left.
“Does he? Or does he know you’ll always come back?” (Y/N)’s friend waved her off to her supposed vices. She clearly wouldn’t listen to an outsider’s perspective, not while she was carrying out a task directly for Tom. Mr Dark, Charming, and Mysterious Tom, the Hufflepuff rolled her eyes as she thought and walked off in a huff. But still, she couldn’t help but worry about his intentions toward her friend. (Y/N) rolled her eyes at the final remark and was reminded why she kept Hufflepuffs at arm’s length. She then realised she’d wasted at least ten minutes and only had 107 minutes to research. She knew Tom would be quick to chastise this. She went straight back to her books and didn’t let a single person break her concentration.
***
It was late at night. The castle halls were empty as McGonagall was making her way to the Slytherin Common room. Of course, the Slytherin Professor was nowhere to be found, and perhaps, she thought, it was for the better as the urgent task at hand required a softer touch. The only noise besides her own restless footsteps was the rhythmic clacking of her boots. Upon facing the Slytherin entrance, she spoke the password and watched the serpent slither across the wall, revealing its doorway. She took a deep breath as she descended the stairs, looking for one student in particular: Tom Riddle.
It wasn’t difficult to find him, he was seated at the main desk in the common room, not engaging with the few remaining students by the fire. He seemed agitated, fidgeting with his ivory bone wand. She cleared her throat to get his attention, Tom looking up, then standing straight, hands behind his back as he bowed.
"Professor McGonagall, to what do I owe the pleasure?" He asked politely, no sign of his previous annoyance.
"Riddle..." McGonagall trailed off, trying to find the right words. "... It's (Y/N)." McGonagall hesitated for a moment to let her words reach her intended target, nervous to what they might mean to him. “I don’t know how to explain this, but…” She stopped to try and find the right words, worried with how her pauses may bring more concern to the Head Boy, but he still didn’t seem to flinch. “I know clearly from my classes how close the two of you were…” His eyebrow arched at that word. That was the only word that seemed to get a reaction. McGonagall steeled herself for her next words. “She’s in the hospital wing.” McGonagall expected him to look more shocked, maybe arch his brow just a bit further, but Tom didn’t react. So, she continued with the worst news. “We’re not sure what caused it. Madam Pomfrey is investigating her now." Once she had finally finished giving the poor news, she waited for something, anything from the boy. But the boy in front of her seemed no different to the one she’d taught in third year. All Tom did was take a breath and nod towards her. “Given this grave news, I must remand you to take control of your house and there is to be another mandatory curfew tonight, Riddle.”
"Take me to her,” Tom said. Whilst she wasn’t sure what tone he took with her, how could she deny the young boy? McGonagall solemnly nodded and ushered him to the hospital wing. The walk was quiet, but hurried, neither speaking a word to each other. McGonagall wondered what could be going through the boy’s head; Was he concerned for her? Was he annoyed by the disruption? Was he already planning a replacement for her? Nothing on Tom’s face would give away what he was thinking.
Upon arriving at the hospital wing, McGonagall left Tom to see Madam Pomfrey. Her expression said enough—grim. Tom was guided to (Y/N)'s side as her body was limp, eyes softly shut as if she were sleeping, her skin matching the cold paleness of his own.
"We're still determining a cause, but I’ve never seen anything like it before." Pomfrey said. "Once we have a line, we can start a cure." Tom continued to stare at (Y/N). This scenario had crossed his mind when they first worked together, and again when she was paired as his head girl, and then consistently once they had made their… arrangement. He had already made precautions to prevent this; he just never expected it to be used so soon. And yet, the emerald necklace that she wore slightly glimmered, concrete proof as the only tether that she was still there.
"Did she have anything on her?" Tom asked, still not turning to face Madam Pomfrey. She nodded, gesturing to the book bag on the table.
"Yes, a few research papers. I've put them in her bag for now." Tom nodded and reached for the bag, breaking his eye contact with (Y/N)'s body.
"I'll take them." Before Madam Pomfrey could even object, Tom had quickly opened the bag and retrieved the papers. He gave them a quick scan before folding them and placing them in his back pocket before looking back at (Y/N).
"When do the nurses from St Mungo's arrive?" Tom asked. He'd known that for tasks far too great for a local healer, elitists from neighbouring towns were enlisted. He intended to make sure this was no different.
"I have sent word," Pomfrey confirmed. Riddle's eyes did not move from (Y/N). "They should be here in ten minutes." Silence filled the wing again as Tom continued to stare at (Y/N) and Pomfrey at Tom. Madam Pomfrey bit her cheeks and sighed, "I'll leave you two. I'll be back once the nurses from St Mungo’s arrive." Tom was brought back to his surroundings for a second.
"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey,” That was all he said as she left, still refusing to turn his gaze from (Y/N).
For the second time in his life, Tom didn't know what to do. He, as much as he refused to admit it, didn't have an immediate solution. There was no lead to what could have caused this, she was, after all, simply researching in the library. The Basilisk was still tucked away after feasting on its two most recent victims and her ailments didn't match the previous coroner reports. Sabotage could be a possibility, but who would've dared cross not just the most powerful witch in Hogwarts, but the most powerful wizard? All he could think of were dead ends.
So, without a solution, Tom sat on the chair next to (Y/N) and took her hand. If he couldn't find an immediate answer, he could give what fleeting life left in her body some comfort she'd be nagging him for. A little voice of hers in the back of his mind taunted him, just as she'd done before she left, I knew you liked me~ she joked. And Tom scoffed, just as every time he'd done before with her ridiculous romanticism.
Madam Pomfrey had quietly snuck back in to let Tom know the nurses would be arriving in five ticks, but she kept quiet as she saw a glimpse into their relationship. She had expected Tom, the bright gentlemanly boy who dared not get close to anyone for his tragic upbringing. She’d have expected him still there, standing, his uniform immaculate like stone, the cold steely glaze of that fierce intellect students and teachers all knew him for pouring into the problem before him.
But no.
Instead, all she found was a sixteen-year-old boy sitting beside a girl who could not hear him, refusing to let go of her hand.