The first thing you learn about him is that he’s not just beloved, he’s an obsession. People don’t like him in the traditional sense of the word. You don’t have to actually talk to Tom at all to consider him your friend, you just have to sort of know about him, be a class with him, sit in the Great Hall at the same time as him, pass him in the corridor or share a table in the library. That’s enough for everyone to smile at each other fondly when he raises his hand to answer yet another question, or when he gets awarded another ten points for a perfect jinx in Defense Against the Dark Arts. It’s enough to merit someone permission to make a passing joke about his latest class distinction to their friends, or comment on how well he’s done in the latest assignment from Dumbledore, or raise their eyebrows and smirk when another lovestruck hopeful approaches him to ask (very transparently) for ‘help with their homework’ or to ‘look over their essay,’ or even for him to tutor them in one or other of the many classes he excels in.
The second thing you learn about him is that he does very little to discourage people treating him this way, and yet nothing ever seems to really come from it. Tom is good at smiling, he does it all the time and he gets no shortage of practice. He’s good at the polite but humble smiles when the professors praise him in class, and the slightly dry smiles when the class titter at yet another of his achievements, and the soft smiles when one of his admirers gather their courage to actually approach him. These he’s particularly adept at, the line between steadfast refusal and gentle charm. No one rejected by Tom (which is everyone) seems to really resent him for it; he’s become so skilled at the art of dissuasion that people come away from the experience sorely heartbroken and even more in love with him as before.
The third thing you learn about Tom is that he’s a collector. He doesn’t really want to get an Outstanding grade in an assignment, he wants Outstanding in all his assignments. He wants to take every N.E.W.T. class, he wants to win 100 percent of the duels in Defence Against the Dark Arts, read the entirety of the recommended chapters for History of Magic, and earn spots on all the internships offered for after graduation. You strongly suspect that a single Outstanding result offers him absolutey no satisfaction by itself at all, and it becomes increasingly evident to you that it’s not so much any particular achievement itself that he craves, but the absoluteness of having achieved it all. You imagine that it would only take one single misstep in an otherwise perfect sweep for him to consider the whole thing a failure. You imagine it’s a very punishing way to live.
Maybe it’s this fascination with perfection and collection that makes him so determined to figure out why you don’t seem to like him very much at all, a single blot on his otherwise spotless record, the last domino for him to push over before he can step back and finally triumph over his conquered playing field. Maybe that’s why he can’t seem to decide if he enjoys the challenge or if he resents you for withholding that satisfaction from him, a battle you frequently catch glimpses of on his face before he hides it all away again with skilled practice. You wonder if he loses sleep over it, if he lies there in his bed in the Slytherin dorm twisted up in his own strange, frustrated obsession, why it doesn’t work, why he doesn’t work for you, what he’s missing, what he’s not seeing. Sometimes he seems a little tired on Tuesday mornings when you sit next to him in Transfiguration, and it makes you wonder about his night. He never seems tired any other day.
He talks to you when he can pass it off as anything other than him trying to talk to you; he asks your opinion on the book you’re assigned unprompted, he suggests that you edit each others’ essays before the deadline passes, he even invites you to study with him over the weekend some time when your classwork gets more demanding. In fact, Tom talks to you the same way everyone else in the school talks to him. You wonder how infuriating he finds it to see his own charming, dissuading smile mirrored back at him when you say no, you suspect rather a lot considering that’s the only time you ever see his jaw tighten like that, and his fingers go utterly still where he’s holding his quill, or his eyes go a little darker, flat and unrelenting before he reminds himself to smile back. It gives you satisfaction unlike anything he’ll ever get to savour.
Knowing that is half the fun of withholding it from him in the first place, after all.
Absolutely love this genre of pissing off Mr. Perfect Tom Riddle 💖 Love your writing as always 😭💕
I want to infuriate him so much that he sits motionless with his head in his hands clenching fistfuls of hair and unable to speak from frustration, y'know, in love with me
God your descriptions of Tom are always so GOOD. I love reading your new ways of looking at him, no matter the genre of the writing. But the way you describe him and how he’s just…off. Just a little unnerving and the MC can sense it. Chefs kiss so perceptive and creative and always a joy to read!!!
This is why I have your post notifs on and always will 🫡
THANK U you are my ride or die and I'm love you 🙌 also this is such satisfying feedback as this is the exact vibe I'm going for so thanks 😩💕💕💕💕
the way i snatched my phone when i got a notif saying you posted. havent read it yet but im sure its gonna slap just like your other writing !!! im gonna stop everything im doing to read this now love uu
It’s 2022 and people are still using the “it’s fiction it doesn’t have to make sense 🤪” when people try to talk about logical inconsistencies in fiction. Please shut the fuck up people.
