thank you to @alliezarin and @sallowsoul for reminding me I’ve been sitting on these and the motivation to finish them, since *mutters* I was meant to finish this as an AU in October 😭…
Think all of us are dusting off our switches atm with the new update coming in January and I always wanted to continue this post of seb in the common room, so take these and enjoy them!!
I do wanna try and make some fic scenes too to be silly and fun, but that’s gotta probably wait until the new year when I have more motivation 😭😭😭
credit:
- Backgrounds found on Pinterest (recoloured and edited)
Summary: Y/n's best friend, Angelina Johnson, wants Y/n to start dating. Angelina decides to set Y/n up with one of Fred Weasley's friends, Cedric Diggory. Angelina and Fred decide to go on a double date with the 2, but its more of a blind date.
Words: 1,469
"Can't you just tell me who it is!?" Y/n questions her best friend, Angelina Johnson.
"No, it's called a blind date for a reason!" Angelina responds as she hands Y/n an eyelash curler. The 2 friends were getting ready for their double date, Angelina with Fred Weasley, and Y/n with an unknown person.
"So he goes to our school," Y/n says as looks in the mirror and curls her lashes, "can you tell me what house he's in?"
"No! You already know too much!"
"No! I promise I know nothing!" Y/n wines, trying to get her way. "This is making me too stressed out!"
"Don't worry! Me and Fred wouldn't set you up with a murderer!"
"It better not be someone like- Draco Malfoy! He's too young and too weird!"
"Ew! Of course not! Way too young!" Angelina laughs, watching Y/n through the reflection of the mirror.
"So he's in our year?" Y/n says as she picks up mascara and leans into the mirror to get a good view of her lashes.
Watching Y/n apply the masacra, Angelina says sarcastically, "No, it's some first year Fred is best friends with."
Y/n pauses, looking at her friend in the mirror with a serious face. "Say you're joking. I'm not ready to be arrested."
"Of course I'm kidding! Yes, he's in our year."
"It better not be George, I'm not into red heads."
"I mean I am buttt, no it's not George. I'm not telling you anything else. You just have to trust me, you'll like him."
"But will he like me though?"
"Y/n! Of course he will love you! Stop over thinking this! I wouldn't put you in a bad situation!" Angelina promises, "And how could he not like you, look at you! You look stunning!"
"As always." Y/n playfully rolls her eyes, putting the mascara down.
~~~~~~~~~~
Cedric and Fred were walking to the Three Broomsticks, talking about the upcoming date. "I hate not knowing who this girl is." Cedric says, feeling the nerves growing.
"Don't worry, I know you'll like her." Fred says, trying to calm his friend down.
"You said she's a Gryffindor?"
"Yeah, one of Angelina's friends." Hearing this made Cedric assume it was Y/n Y/l/n. If you were to have asked anyone in their year who Angelina's best friends was, Y/n would be the first to come to mind. Cedric didn't want to get his hopes up that it was Y/n, but he was looking forward to getting to know the girl more. Cedric has always found Y/n attractive, but he never got the chance to befriend her.
On the first day of first year, Y/n was the first person Cedric talked to. He was nervous waiting in the line to know what house he was going to be in. Y/n was behind him, listening to the boy anxiously mumble to himself. "You'll be fine, trust me." Young Y/n says, putting her hand on the boys shoulder.
Cedric turned around, relaxing when he saw Y/n's face. They both smiled at each other, exchanging names. Once Cedric got sorted into Hufflepuff, he prayed Y/n would be sorted there too. When she was sorted into Gryffindor, they both looked at each other with sad smiles. When the school year started, they would smile at each other when they saw one another in the halls, but as the year went on, they slowly stopped.
As the years went on, they would always make eye contact in the halls, but it always lasted a second. When they both saw each other, it reminded them of the first day of first year. They both wondered what their lives would have been if they continued being friends, wishing they had.
Now, Cedric and Fred were about to enter the Three Broomsticks. Y/n and Angelina were sitting across from each other, Y/n facing the door. Every time Y/n heard the door open, her eyes shot to the door. Noticing her best friends nervous behavior, Angelina put her hand on Y/n's, making Y/n relax.
Hearing the door open once more, Y/n turns her attention to it. She sees Cedric enter the door. It's probably not him, I don't see Fred. Y/n thinks. She watches as Cedric turns around to someone who is also entering into the pub. She sees Cedric and Fred looking around the pub to spot the 2 girls.
"Angelina. You seriously got me a date with Cedric Diggory?!" Y/n whisper shouts, burying her face in her hands laughing.
"Girl, I know you want him! Every time you see him in the halls you get quiet for a few seconds. Now don't mess this up!" Angelina says, pulling at Y/n's arms so she would unbury her face. When Y/n looked up, she saw Fred spot her and point over to her. Cedric turned around to look at what Fred was pointing at, making eye contact with Y/n. He smiled at the girl, making Y/n naturally smile back.
Y/n looked back at her friend, who was smiling at Y/n. "Don't look at me, I'm already nervous enough!" Y/n whispers, keeping a smile on her face so it looked natural. Angelina laughs at the girl, making Y/n laugh back.
When the 2 boys arrived at the table, Fred sat next to his girlfriend, planting a kiss on her lips. Cedric sits next to Y/n, smiling once more at the girl as he greets her. "Hi, Y/n."
"Hey Cedric." Y/n smiles back.
"You 2 already know each other?" Fred asks.
"Yeah." They both answer.
"We were friends in first year," Y/n explains to the couple.
"You remember that?" Cedric asks, turning his head to the girl.
"Of course I remember, you were the first person I talked to." Cedric nods his head, grinning at Y/n.
"We are such grate matchmakers." Fred says, looking at Angelina.
"Excuse you, this was all my idea, who's 'we'?" Angelina sassily asks, making everyone laugh.
As the date went on, Y/n and Cedric hit it off. They bonded over talking about school and all of their favorite things. When the double date was over, the 2 couples decided to walk apart to give each other alone time. Angelina and Fred walked behind Cedric and Y/n, watching their matchmaking work out.
"So you didn't know who you were going on a date with either?" Y/n asks with her arm wrapped around Cedric's.
"Fred is bad at giving hints. He gave me 2 and I guessed it was you right away." Cedric laughs, making Y/n chuckle.
"Were you disappointed?" Y/n asks in a joking way, but it was a serious question.
"No, not at all." Cedric looks down at Y/n, giving her a genuine smile.
"Good." There was a few moments of silence before Y/n admits, "I thought it was going to be awkward, or something. I mean we haven't talked since we were 11."
"Honestly, I was worried too."
"Good thing we were with Fred, he made a fool of himself before I did." Y/n says, laughing. Cedric laughs, thinking back to the moment that happened during the double date. Y/n made a joke about everyone's least favorite teacher, and Fred snorted his butter beer out of his nose.
"How much do you bet they are watching us?" Y/n says, referring to the couple behind them.
"I don't need to bet, I feel them looking." Cedric chuckles. Y/n and Cedric both turn their head around to look at the pair. No supersize, Fred and Angelina whip their head to look somewhere other then Y/n and Cedric. Y/n and Cedric both look at each other, busting out in laughter.
After more conversations about both of their lives, Cedric and Y/n arrived at the fat lady painting, which indicated their date officially ended here. "I had a lot of fun reconnecting with you again, Y/n. We should do this again." Cedric says, tucking a piece of hair behind Y/n's ear.
"Yeah, definitely." Y/n beams up at the boy. Cedric nods to Y/n, then walks away, past Angelina and Fred. He nods at the couple and walks back to the Hufflepuff common room.
Angelina runs up to Y/n, whisper shrieking in excitement. In response, Y/n does the same, holding Angelina's hands. "I did that!!" Angelina beams.
After that night, Cedric and Y/n would walk in the halls together, hand in hand. They went on many more dates together, growing closer and closer, eventually becoming boyfriend and girlfriend, thanks to Angelina.
THE END
Not pre-read
A/n: I love that I put "not pre-read" but im 100% not going to pre read it... anyway... Thank you so much for reading!! Hope yall loved this! PLS REQUEST! I'm pulling stories out of my ass here 😊 I don't really like this story so I hope it wasn't too bad...
-Viktor cannot STAND black coffee. Sometimes when you're pissed at him, you "forget" to add creamer or sweetmilk. His face is hilarious.
-He isn't an animal guy- they take lots of time to care for... which he does not have. But when you rescue some kitten off of the streets, he can't help but treat it like a baby. He bought one of those little feather shakers and spends his free time snuggling your kitty. Despite insisting he isn't emotionally attached.
"Fur baby? This is not my fur baby! He's just small and fluffy, that's all. Now stop teasing me," he says, dramatically looking up at you while gently petting the little thing.
-Terrible at interior design. Used to have only a single sad wooden chair at the "dining" table. Note: There is a small crack in the sad wooden chair due to prolonged ponderings. 🪑
"Where do you even buy these things? Most of my decor consists of scattered notes and trinkets." (He is looking at a finger painting of a bird that your toddler cousin made.)
-Viktor is a big fan of meal prepping and has a giant pot's worth of soup or pasta available 24/7. Sometimes he invites you over just to help polish off a hefty tupperware full of fettuccine before it goes bad. He's a surprisingly good cook, whipping up a mean omelet for you on lazy mornings.
-He has calloused and worn hands from writing and tinkering all day. As a gag gift, you buy him those kiddie princess band-aids... your know the ones. After a small mishap, he reaches into the first aid drawer of the lab, only to pull out a smiley anthropomorphic dog. Oh well, he thinks, wrapping it around his finger.
"I see you're wearing the band-aids I bought you, hm?" you tease.
"Very funny," he says, eyes still glued to the bolt he's turning.
-Viktor is nosy when he gets bored. He looks through your books, adding little notes on random pages.
"Spicy, don't you think? I'm sure Heimerdinger wouldn't approve. Tsk tsk, dove." - V
📖🖊
(Written in the best chapter of your romance novel.)
-During academy meetings and events, you have a subtle signal for what is essentially a side eye. Phrases like:
everyone wants to be fucked by tom riddle until that man has you pinned underneath him while fucking you so deep you’re feeling him in your stomach and he’s gripping you so tight you’re sure your skin is going to turn purple but he doesn’t even notice because he’s so fucking lost in the warmth of your cunt that he’s got his head buried in your neck and he’s growling something in parseltongue that makes you think hes trying to conjure the basilisk itself, singlehandedly ignoring every whimper and whine that effortlessly makes it past your lips as he sinks his teeth into the skin of your shoulder because salazar fucking sakes you just feel so fucking good he doesn’t know what to do with himself besides breed you as many fucking times as he can and mark you in every possible way he can think of.
Synopsis: Being the Minister of Magic was not easy for Tom, but you are always there to keep chaos from erupting. OR, you are Tom's assistant and the babysitter of the group and Tom finally confesses.
Pairing: Tom Riddle x Reader
Notes: Not canon compliant (sane!Tom, no Voldemort), Abraxas keeps insulting orphans, Y/N is tired (Knights of Walpurgis? More like Kids of Walpurgis)
You could almost feel the grey hairs sprouting from your head, and not even in a fun, attractive way either. It was a wonder you hadn't even thought about drafting up your letter of resignation until right now.
"Abraxas, you may not buy out that land to raise your peacocks. The Department of Care for Magical Children plan to use it for future projects."
Tom shoots you an amused look from across the room, lips quirked up into a smirk at your exasperated tone. The infuriating man was leaning back in his armchair, far too at ease, as you tried to restrain yourself from slamming your head through the table.
"Frankly, that just seems like a waste of good resources. I mean why do they need it so bad? Could they not just simply find another plot? After all, these children grew up in austere conditions, so they won't even miss it."
"Abraxas."
"Yes?"
"Get out."
"Excuse--"
"Now. Please."
The man looks over to his best friend for help, but Tom simply shrugs as if conceding that you were the one in charge.
"Fine. However, this conversation is far from over. I will see you both tonight, yes?"
"Of course. Safe travels, and please send Lady Malfoy my regards."
The man sends you a pleased nod before twirling on his heels, his cloak billowing dramatically. The door clicks shut behind him just as you drop your face into your hands.
"Stressed, darling?"
You huff and rub your forehead before answering with more bite than intended, "Perfectly fine".
The insufferable man, as unbothered as always, lets out a noise of amusement before slowly striding towards your desk. You slowly raise your head as his shadow falls over you, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"Anything I can do to help?"
"Yeah, fire off your best hex at me and put me out of my misery."
"Abraxas‘ dramatics has rubbed off on you, my love."
The pet name sends a shiver down your spine and you try your hardest to school your expression. You had grown up with Tom at the orphanage, which basically made you his closest confidant, friend, and ally. At times it felt like you were a breathing, judgmental diary to him.
You were privy to all that was bad and ugly in his life, so it was only right that you were by his side when he rose to power and suddenly had access to all the material goods in the world.
And to him--whatever he had, you had by extension.
Of course, you fought tooth and nail to get to where you were now, rebuking any effort Tom made to give you preferential treatment.
Everything would be fine if it weren't for your affections toward him. Growing up, he never expressed interest in pursuing a romantic relationship, he had only ever wanted to subvert the stereotypes and malice aimed at the both of you during your years at Hogwarts.
The closest thing to romance that you could associate Tom with was when he wooed Druella Rosier in sixth year with his signature smile and a kiss to her hand in order to siphon information about her father from her.
The poor girl was an inconsolable lump of misery after Tom got what he needed and tossed her aside like a used handkerchief.
Tom's always been romantically inept like that.
Your spiral of reminiscing didn't cease, not even when you and Tom showed up to Malfoy Manor for their annual ball later that night.
When would it be socially acceptable to turn tail and run?
"Assistant L/N! What a pleasure it is! Is the minister trekking about nearby?"
You spin from looking out the window and come face to face with an older man who you recognized from around the Department of Magical Games and Sports.
His vest hugged him tightly and only served to accentuate his red, puffy face.
Was he about to hit on you or try and kiss your ass so he could get acquainted with Tom?
Merlin. Did you have enough in your savings to retire yet?
"Good evening. I believe Tom is busy discussing foreign deals with Lord Greengrass."
"Ah yes, Cyrus Greengrass is quite ingenious. You and Minister Riddle were friends with him during school, yes?"
Your lip twitched at how casual he was addressing Cyrus. Cyrus would be disconcerted by the man's informality, but Abraxas would surely become vexed on his friend's behalf if he heard.
"Yes. We are childhood friends I suppose."
"Wonderful! Well I was coming to you because I'm sure you're aware that the rules for Quidditch are being tossed into the air. The Ministro di Magia in Italy is trying to--"
You started tuning him out and looked around the room for one of your friends, starting to sweat in the formal wear you had on.
Luckily, Tom caught your eye. Unfortunately, he had somehow rounded up all of your friends and they were all looking quite entertained at your expense.
"Sorry sir. If you'll excuse me, it seems that the Minister is in need of me."
Without waiting for a response, you chugged what was left in your champagne flute before practically stomping over to the circle of men.
As you neared, Tom stepped out to welcome you, encircling a hand around your waist like it was the most casual thing in the world.
"Good evening boys. Thank you for throwing me out to the wolves."
"Y/N! So I assume this would be a bad time to try and renegotiate the land you're throwing away to those orphans."
Bloody hell, he was forgetting that he was saying that in front of two orphans.
Without answering Abraxas, you turned to Tom and let out a sigh, "I'm handing in my letter of resignation tomorrow, I promise it".
The hand around your waist tightened ever so slightly and you ignored the amused looks your friends sent each other, having picked up on your little school girl crush on Tom eons ago.
Damn them.
"Now, now, don't make hasty decisions. I could simply smite Abraxas‘ peacocks and the problem would be solved."
Abraxas let out an undignified noise while Parkinson and Bulstrode snorted into their drinks. Cyrus patted Abraxas‘ shoulder in feign pity, but he knew that Tom would likely make good on his threat if you asked him to.
"I hate you all. How is it that even after all these years, I still feel like an underpaid, underappreciated nanny."
Abraxas looked offended at your words and quickly reassured you, "We love you though. Underpaid, yes. Underappreciated? Never."
Your banter with the group went on for a while longer and as the night started coming to a close, Tom steered you away from peering eyes and towards a vacant balcony.
"Are you alright, darling?"
You only nodded tiredly to the man, leaning your elbows on the railing. You rubbed your eyes as you could sense the man behind you shifting in uncertainty (which was so uncharacteristic of him that you had half the mind to pull out your wand and threaten him to tell you where the real Tom was).
A few beats of peaceful silence pass before you're jumping up at the feeling of hands coming to hug your waist, a hard chest pressing against your back.
"Tom--?"
His chin gently rested atop of your shoulder, loosening his grip slightly to give you the opportunity to push him away.
"Are you unusually more clueless nowadays or are you purposely torturing me?"
"You're going to have to elaborate. Did you accidentally kill someone or do something I would disapprove of? This affection is quite sudden."
"But you don't hate it. Quite the contrary."
"That confidence of yours is going to get you into trouble one day."
"If it's you, I don't mind the trouble."
You don't bother responding, but your silence was satisfactory enough for him.
Clearing your throat, you awkwardly move your hands to rest atop of his, patting them gently.
It felt like the world spun on its head and was reborn anew before Tom spoke again, "Marry me."
His words threw you for a loop and you sputtered a choked, "What?"
"Marry me. I mean we're practically married anyway. You flounder around and make sure the boys are okay, and I rein them in so they don't blow up the country and make me lose face."
"Yes. We are a true dynamic duo."
Your dry response has his chest rumbling in contained laughter, tilting his head and gently knocking it against your cheek.
"We're the parents of the group, haven't you noticed? Abraxas asked me a few days ago if we would end their suffering and ours by just wedding each other."
"I was not aware we were even dating."
"Dating--being partners-- would not even come close to what we are. Don't you feel the same? We are in sync in everything we do. Even hundreds of miles apart, I breathe as you breathe, my heart beats in rhythm with yours, my mind does not simply revolve around you--it is completely infused with your every essence. It is a wonder we aren't already married with three cats."
"Three cats," Tom despised cats, "But...yes, I feel the same. You know I do. I thought that...well, I thought you weren't interested in romance."
"I am interested in pursuing anything and everything with you. Only you. If you'll have me, of course."
Your laughter comes out wet and heavy, filled with relief and disbelief. You turn your gaze upward and watch as the stars blink down on you, permeated across the sky the same way love begins to flow through your veins.
"It was always you, Tom. Thank you for telling me."
Tom pulls back briefly before gently turning you around to face him.
He leans down and nuzzles his nose against yours, eyes conveying a tender emotion that you've never seen until now. But now you knew, every time in the past when his eyes flickered across your face and softened, it was out of love.
"Tell me you'll marry me."
You don't give him a verbal response, but as you press your lips to his, he knows that domesticity together is all the both of you have ever needed.
"Tom...does this mean we have to make Abraxas the best man now?"
"Don't be silly, he'll give us no choice in the matter."
Summary: Mattheo Riddle has been your best friend since you were both sorted into Slytherin, and you secretly have a thing for his older brother. Then, your friends pull Tom into a late-night game of Truth or Dare. What could go wrong?
Warnings/be aware: she/her reader, ooc!Tom Riddle, Tom Riddle isn't Voldemort just the mysterious Head Boy, one short description of violence/wounds, alcohol consumption, Mattheo smokes cigarettes, one Dramione mention, "you're the only one allowed to touch him" trope, possessiveness, no blood purity ideologies in this fic
A/N: Yay, first fic on this blog is up! I had so much fun writing this. I didn't picture myself ever making a Victorious reference in a Slytherin boys fic but whatcha gonna do. Writing best friend!Mattheo was such a good time, I think he'd be such a fun bestie.
Since your first day at Hogwarts, Mattheo Riddle had been your best friend.
You remembered that fateful day on the Hogwarts Express well. You were a Muggle-born who didn’t know the first thing about magic or Hogwarts, who shyly sat in a train car by yourself reading your school textbooks and trying to figure out what you were about to walk into. Then the compartment door opened and a boy with sparkling hazel eyes and floppy brown curls stumbled in, laughing, shoved by one of his friends. Figuring that they’d dared him to go talk to the weird kid reading by herself, you’d rolled your eyes, but he’d ignored your attitude and introduced himself nonetheless. He asked you why you were sitting by yourself and you were honest, telling him that you didn’t know anything about magic and you were trying to figure it out. In stunned silence, you watched as he chuckled before explaining that you didn’t have to have it all figured out – half of his friends didn’t, and most of them had grown up in the wizarding world with two magical parents and all magical friends. Then, he let you practically interrogate him about all things magical until it was time to change into your robes and arrive at the castle. He patted the seat next to him in invitation when he hopped into a boat and the rest was history.
“Slytherin!” When the Sorting Hat cried out your placement to the Great Hall, Mattheo was the only cheer amongst a sea of polite claps, and your nerves disappeared when you looked over to your new house table and saw him hollering joyfully. After you joined him at the table, he introduced you to the rest of his friends – Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Lorenzo Berkshire, Theodore Nott…
“And this is my brother, Tom. He’s older and wiser, so if you’ve got any questions, ask Tommy Boy over here.”
The elder Riddle’s eyes finally strayed from the pages of the book he’d been reading at the sound of the unwanted nickname, glaring at his younger brother before glancing toward you. You immediately felt the air leave your chest. He was absolutely striking, with darker curls than Mattheo and piercing green eyes that contrasted starkly with his brother’s hazel. His expression was focused and intense and you were paralyzed in his gaze.
“There’s no need to be afraid of my brother, by the way,” Mattheo said later as the two of you stood in line, following your Prefect to the Slytherin dormitories with the other students. “He likes to think he’s intimidating, but he’s really just a big nerd.”
“Oh, I’m not scared,” you responded, and he looked at you in confusion. “Just…a little caught off guard, that’s all.” He shrugged, and you were relieved that he believed you. You didn’t know much about boys, but you suspected that your brother’s attractive wouldn’t go over well.
As you grew older, you only grew closer to your little group of Slytherin friends. You’d gone on your fair share of dates, had your first kiss with Theo on a dare, and loved and lost a few times, but you’d never quite been able to shake that feeling that Tom gave you, like he could see right through you. It didn’t help that he’d transformed from striking to downright gorgeous with age – his face had hardened into sharp cheekbones and a strong jawline, accompanied by that same piercing green stare he’d always had. He’d become a truly upstanding Hogwarts student, always put together and responsible without a hair out of place, keeping the rest of the student body in line as Head Boy. His intense and commanding nature made him even more attractive to you, but even when he paused his studies and Head Boy duties to sit about with his brother’s friends, it seemed like he was a million miles away, eager to remove himself from the group’s antics. When your friends had dared you and Theo to kiss, he’d rolled his eyes in disgust, scoffing incredulously when you’d actually gone through with it.
Yet, he’d also developed an oddly gentle demeanor towards you…at least compared to the way he treated the rest of the students at Hogwarts. When you visited the Riddles’ house for the first time during the summer after second year and their parents were hostile towards you, Tom laid a hand on your shoulder and told you to pay them no mind. During your third year, you finally gotten the hang of Potions – your worst class up until that point – and he nodded appreciatively every time you announced to Mattheo that you’d earned another O on an assignment, assuring you that the class was quite difficult and you were doing well. While in your fourth year, the Yule Ball came around, and a nasty older girl in Slytherin teased you a few weeks before the event for not having a date yet. When Tom overheard, he told the girl off harshly and took points from his own house just to punish her.
“Sadie Burke is a nasty creature,” he muttered darkly, pulling you aside after reprimanding her. “Don’t listen to a word she says, okay?” He cleared his throat. “Do I need to tell my brother to get his act together and take his best friend to the Ball?” Your face reddened and you looked at the floor, embarrassed that he was under the impression that you couldn’t find a date.
“No, I…honestly, I’ve already turned down a few offers,” you said quietly. It was true – Zacharias Smith had creeped you out and you knew that Michael Corner had only asked you to make his ex-girlfriend jealous. Besides, even if you knew that he wouldn’t, you’d been carrying a slight flame of hope that Tom would ask you. “Maybe I should’ve accepted. But Enz agreed to be my backup anyway, with his girlfriend off at Durmstrang and all. So no need to badger your brother,” you added with a hesitant grin. Tom let out a sigh.
“I was hoping Mattheo would take you,” he groaned. “I’m sick of him turning up to these things with girls he won’t even bother to learn the name of.” You laughed in spite of yourself. I hoped my brother would ask you out wasn’t exactly what you’d been hoping to hear, but Tom was right about one thing – your best friend was quickly becoming a menace in the relationship department.
“It’s so annoying!” you agreed. “I feel bad for them – he never treats them poorly or anything, but he’s got the attention span of a fish. There aren’t that many girls here - at the rate he’s going, by next year he’s going to have to double back and go for a second round with some of them.” Tom chuckled slightly, a smirk tugging on the corners of his mouth.
“I want to start warning them off, just to see what happens.” He paused for a moment, then frowned. “He’s never tried any of that with you, right?” You wrinkled your nose in disgust.
“Ew, no!” you objected with a giggle. “Neither of us think about each other like that.” An indiscernible look passed across Tom’s face for a moment before he met your gaze again.
“Good.” He walked away, brushing past you and leaving you with chills where his hand touched your shoulder as he moved.
You’d ultimately gone to the ball with Enzo and had a blast, though you felt a pang of envy as you watched Tom escort some other Prefect in Ravenclaw. You saw her around the Slytherin common room a few times after that, but apparently Tom’s solitary nature ultimately won over and she disappeared like the many other girls who’d begun to realize that he was attractive. That, you realized, was the difference between the Riddle brothers. Both (objectively) stunningly handsome, but Mattheo was at least willing to humor the girls who were interested in him for a while. Tom had no interest, giving even the few girls who’d managed to drag him out to Hogsmeade the cold shoulder after one date.
As you witnessed this from the sidelines throughout your fifth year and saw no evidence that he’d change, you decided that your crush on him had to go. So you went out on dates yourself, snogged Theo, and found a boyfriend, and when that didn’t work out, another. But when that boyfriend cheated on you, Tom walked in on you sobbing on Mattheo’s shoulder in the Slytherin common room. The next day your newly ex-boyfriend wound up in the Hospital Wing with gnarly open sores all over his body, unable to remember what had happened. Not even the professors had seen a spell like it before. Mattheo confessed to you that evening that he recognized the spell as one his brother had invented.
“Why would he do something like that?” you asked, confused.
“I may have mentioned to him at breakfast that I was going to fight the bloke,” Mattheo admitted. “He hates when I get detentions, thinks it smears the family name.” Your best friend rolled his eyes. “I guess he was worried that I would get caught.”
It was sick and twisted, but your brain flashed between believing Mattheo’s explanation and wondering whether Tom’s actions meant that he felt something for you. Even though you knew it was wrong, the thought of Tom being vicious and protective over you made you even more attracted to him then you already were. In spite of your best efforts, you entered your sixth year with another major crush on him. It was one of the few points of continuity in the whirlwind that was your first NEWT year, really. Between studying for your increasingly difficult classes, homework assignments, Quidditch matches and Hogsmeade weekends, and the eternally raucous parties that your best friend threw in the Slytherin common room, you barely had time to get a word in edgewise with your life. But two things remained: your Slytherin friend group and your feelings for Tom Riddle.
“Y/N!” Pansy hissed one fall night of your sixth year as you lay in bed, ready to fall asleep. You rolled over, squinting at her in the darkness. “Mattheo just sent me an owl.” The bird flapped out of the open window and into the pitch black air as she spoke.
“At this time of night?” you groaned, rubbing your eyes. “What does he want?”
“He still has some Firewhiskey from the party last night,” she whispered. “He wants us to come down to the common room with Nott and Zabini and them so we can finish it.”
“Ughhh,” you groaned. “Pans, we’ve been drinking all weekend. Didn’t you want to get up early and go to Hogsmeade tomorrow?”
“It’s fine, we can go in the afternoon,” she reasoned. “We should kill the Firewhiskey before Snape or some Prefect finds it.”
“Fine,” you sighed. “Daph!” you hissed, launching your pillow across the room at Daphne, who was laying in her bed half asleep.
“Whaddya want?” she mumbled, snapping up and rubbing her eyes.
“Drinks in the common room, you in?”
“Yeah, yeah,” she whispered with a yawn. “Let’s do it.”
When the three of you stumbled down to the common room, you found the boys sitting about, passing a couple of half-empty bottles around, the room illuminated only by the green light of the lake and a small lamp that the boys had lit. Draco and Blaise sat back in armchairs while Mattheo, Lorenzo, and Theo sat on the floor, taking swigs of Firewhiskey.
“I wish we had some coffee with this,” you groaned as Theo passed you the bottle and you plopped down on an upholstered couch. Pansy joined you while Daphne perched herself on the arm of Blaise’s chair and he slipped an arm around her hips. You glanced at Pansy and the two of you rolled your eyes. Those two just needed to start dating already. Carefully, you took a swig of whiskey from the bottle in your hands, coughing slightly at the burn in your throat before passing it to Pansy. “Haven’t you guys ever heard of a mixer?”
“Couldn’t nick anything from the kitchens,” Mattheo explained as he accepted the other bottle from Draco. Pansy rolled her eyes.
“Please,” she scoffed. “With you, there’s always a way. You just like to feel edgy, drinking it straight and having a cig.”
“Now that you mention it,” he responded with a smirk, pulling a paper out of his pocket and starting to roll a cigarette.
As you continued to pass the bottles around with your friends, you felt your head getting lighter and warmth spread across your chest. Pansy cast a Silencing Charm on the common room so you all could talk without attracting any attention from outside or those in the dormitories and you relaxed, your slight apprehensions about getting caught fading away. You all laughed and played Never Have I Ever, the very targeted prompts revealing exactly how well you all knew each other.
“Never Have I Ever snogged some Ravenclaw at a party and then been paired up with the same guy in Potions the next day,” you said, staring pointedly at Daphne. She grinned and drank as the rest of your friends laughed loudly. It was a legendary story in your friend group, and the partnership had gone on for months. Finally, Blaise banned the guy from Slytherin parties until he requested a change, and he promptly did so. Whether it was out of fear of missing the legendary parties or of Blaise himself, you weren’t sure, but he’d been reluctantly allowed back in.
“Never Have I Ever ditched my mates to hit on some girl,” Enzo chimed in, frowning at Mattheo. Everyone laughed again as Mattheo shook his head and reluctantly accepted the charge, pulling his cigarette from his lips and taking a swig from the bottle.
“You guys are so dramatic,” he groaned.
“You do it all the time, Matty!” you protested lovingly as he passed the bottle. The others nodded in agreement. “We’re having a great time in the Great Hall or at Quidditch or whatever and then some girl waltzes up to you and poof, I suddenly don’t exist to you or her.”
“Don’t come at me for my W rizz,” he objected, crinkling his nose at you.
Theo frowned. “What…what does that mean?”
“Never Have I Ever used the phrase ‘W rizz’ in conversation,” you joked, shaking your head as Mattheo took another drink from the bottle in his hand.
“Never Have I Ever caught feelings for someone in the group,” Draco cut in smugly. You rolled your eyes. He was way too proud of himself for someone who’d only avoided crushing on one of his friends because he’d been pining after Hermione Granger for three years straight. You giggled and watched Daphne and Blaise drink, as well as Enzo and Pansy, who’d had a short-lived fling after the Durmstrang girl had chucked him. Then Pansy passed the bottle to you and you paused, your face turning red.
“Well, who counts as someone in the group?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. With the Firewhiskey in your system, your internal filter wasn’t quite up to scratch. Your friends collectively turned to look at you and Pansy and Daphne raised their eyebrows. They were the two out of the group who knew that you were…intrigued by Mattheo’s older brother. Meanwhile, Draco scoffed.
“Y/N, Nott absolutely counts as someone in the group,” he retorted, rolling his eyes. You smirked.
“Sure, he counts, but he doesn’t qualify for the feelings portion,” you reasoned. “We only kissed on a dare. No offense, Theo,” you added, glancing at your friend.
“Oh, none taken,” he responded airily. He typically went for girls in other houses anyhow.
“Anyway, back to who counts,” Draco said dryly, “Who do you think? Everyone here. Me, Zabini, Berkshire, Nott, Matt, Pans, Daph. Can’t think of anyone else who would.”
“Right,” you replied, passing the bottle without taking a drink.
“Wait, who were you thinking counted?” Mattheo asked, raising his eyebrows. You felt your face heat up even further.
“Oh, you know…other Slytherins.”
“Such as…” he prompted and you laughed, shaking your head as the others watched your exchange curiously.
“None of your beeswax!” you protested, hurling a throw pillow from the couch in his direction as he let out a yelp of protest and tried to bat it away from his face. “No one included in the prompt.”
“Come on,” he whined, pouting at you as he threw the pillow back. “I’m your best mate, you’ve got to at least give me a hint.”
“Not to mention the rest of us,” Enzo complained. “I’m not used to being left in the dark.” Your stomach flipped nervously as you felt Mattheo’s curious eyes on you. You’d managed to prevent him from catching on to how you felt about Tom for this long – you couldn’t mess up now.
Suddenly, the conversation was interrupted by a creaking that emerged from the common room entrance. You and your friends sat bolt upright, glancing around hurriedly.
“Someone’s coming!” Pansy hissed.
“No, I never would’ve guessed,” Mattheo retorted, quickly stoppering the liquor bottles with a flick of his wand. “You all,” he continued, gesturing at you, Pansy, Daphne, Draco, and Blaise. “Get down on the floor. I’ll put out the light. It’s probably some other degenerate out past curfew, but I don’t want to have to share the liquor if they see us.” You all obliged as he waved his wand again and you found yourself hiding in the shadows.
Footsteps echoed through the room as you sat frozen with your back pressed to the couch, not even daring to stick your head up to see who they belonged to. You breathed a sigh of relief as they drew closer to the stairs, but tensed once again as they bypassed the steps to the dormitories entirely and instead continued into the depths of the common room.
“Mattheo et. al., you can come out now,” a familiar voice drawled, and your heart rate sped up. Tom. Not just some degenerate…the actual Head Boy. He must be coming back from patrols. You and your friends rose hesitantly as Mattheo re-lit the lamp. Your eyes caught Tom’s through the shadows before his gaze quickly switched back toward his brother. “I can smell that horrendous cologne you wear from the doorway.” He turned back to the group. “It’s very foolish for you all to be breaking curfew, especially at this hour.”
“Tommy, come on,” Mattheo began with a cheeky grin. “You wouldn’t report your brother, would you?”
“That depends,” Tom replied evenly, raising his eyebrows. “Do you all have alcohol?” Panic rose in your chest and you flushed under his scrutiny. Sure, he was hot, but he could also totally report you and get you detention. Frantically, you shook your head as you tried to kick the bottle of Firewhiskey nearest to you under the couch. “Don’t try to hide it,” Tom ordered, holding you in his piercing gaze and sending shivers down your spine. He held out his hand, his rings flashing silver in the light of the lamp. “Give it to me.” You retrieved the bottle and handed it to him, shaking ever so slightly. To your confusion, he unstoppered it. “Thank Salazar,” he groaned, stepping forward and sitting down on the couch. “I need a drink, it’s been a long day.”
Your friends let out audible sighs of relief as they realized that Tom wouldn’t report you all to Professor Snape. “Don’t ever mess with me like that again!” Mattheo complained, sitting back down on the floor. Tom raised his eyebrows.
“I could actually report you, if you’d prefer,” he responded dryly and Mattheo frantically shook his head. Tom scoffed. As your friends slowly began to relax and return to their seats, he smirked, catching your eye. “I really got you, huh?” You blushed, pouting slightly.
“That was mean,” you murmured softly and he let out a chuckle as you sat back down on the couch where you’d been before – which just happened to put you right next to him. As Pansy returned to her old spot, you were squished closer to him and you felt your cheeks heat up more. His self-satisfied expression was annoyingly hot.
“Doesn’t anyone have a glass around here?” he asked, his lip curling slightly as he regarded the bottle in his hand.
“Who do you think we are, bro? Adults?” Mattheo retorted and Tom rolled his eyes, shaking his head. He took a deep swig from the bottle before passing it to Draco, then leaned back against the sofa, throwing the arm nearest to you over the backrest. It was the most relaxed you’d ever seen him.
“So what happened today that drove you to drink?” you asked, intrigued, as bottles began to move between your friends again. Tom rarely even came to Slytherin parties – the one time Mattheo had managed to drag him, he’d gotten irritated and left not even an hour in – and you’d never seen him drink outside of meeting with professors at Three Broomsticks. You were surprised that he was able to down the whiskey with so much ease.
“Idiots on patrols,” he spat in annoyance, his lip curling again. “All sorts of people out of bed, and everyone acting outraged when I took points. These slow patrols full of people who want to argue are cutting into my studying time—“ He paused as you received a bottle from Pansy, took a heavy swig, and passed it to him. He drank deeply once more before passing it on. “—and NEWTS are just months away.”
“Have another drink, big bro, you need some balance,” Mattheo cut in with a mischievous grin. “We can’t have you going grey from stress, now.”
“Yes, advice from Mister Time Management himself,” Tom sneered. “Tell me, how ever do you balance all the girl-chasing with the partying and the nicotine addiction?” Mattheo just laughed, flicking the ash from his cigarette onto the floor.
“All I’m saying is that you just got here,” he replied, grinning as he handed his brother a bottle. “You should probably catch up to the rest of us.” The rest of your friends watched with curiosity.
“With pleasure,” Tom drawled, and to your surprise he took another heavy drink. After he finished, he passed the bottle to you. Not to be outdone, you chugged some yourself before handing it back to him. He took a final swig before passing it on in the other direction. He raised his eyebrows at you after doing so. “It’s not a competition.”
“Why?” you teased, emboldened in your tipsy state. “Scared I’ll drink you under the table?” He scoffed.
“In your dreams.”
“Okay losers, more Never Have I Ever?” Mattheo announced, glancing around at the others. You nodded your assent, but Pansy disagreed.
“I’m bored of that,” she complained. “Let’s play Truth or Dare.”
“Ooh, let’s do that,” Daphne agreed eagerly.
“Okay, everyone for Truth or Dare?” Mattheo asked and you gave a hesitant thumbs-up. Truth or Dare with your friends tended to get a bit…chaotic. But you could use some chaos tonight. The others nodded.
“You all are twelve,” Tom drawled, taking another drink. Pansy pouted in his direction, and he rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ll play.”
“Okay, since you suggested it Pans, truth or dare?” Mattheo began with a mischievous grin.
“Dare,” she responded immediately, sitting up in anticipation.
“Alright…I dare you to leave the common room, do a lap around the dungeons without getting caught by Filch, and then come back.”
As the game continued, you relaxed into the couch, listening to your friends play. Your head was starting to feel heavy from the alcohol and, with a nervous glance at the boy next to you, you rested it on his shoulder. You half expected him to ask what was wrong with you or push you off, but he didn’t. Instead, he lowered his arm from the backrest of the couch and wrapped it around your shoulders, leaning back so that you could more easily rest on him. You watched, giggling, as Enzo stood on his head and attempted to chug Firewhiskey, spewing it out of his nose and toppling over onto his back instead.
“Great try, Enz,” Theo managed to get out in between gales of laughter. “Who’s next?”
“Y/N.” You sat up, suddenly alert. “Truth or dare?” Enzo asked, a mischievous grin on his face as he straightened himself out.
“Um…truth,” you replied. You didn’t have the energy to stand up, and you definitely didn’t want to be asked to do something ridiculous in front of Tom. Besides, doing anything would require his arm to not be around you, and that sounded awful.
“Great, well, I think I speak for all of us when I say that we’d love to know which Slytherin you were talking about during Never Have I Ever.”
Your eyes widened and you felt your whole face turn red as the boys turned to watch you with amusement. Pansy and Daphne, on the other hand, acquired similarly shocked expressions, and you saw them both trying to subtly glare daggers at Enzo.
“Who’s this Slytherin?” Tom chimed in before you could say anything.
“Oh, just some fortunate lad that Y/N fancies,” Theo replied smugly, clearly enjoying your embarrassment.
“Oh, I’m intrigued,” Tom drawled in response, raising his eyebrows at you. Your face turned even more red, if it was possible, and you violently shook your head.
“Nope,” you declined. “I’ll drink. I’m not doing that one.” You reached towards Mattheo for the bottle, but he didn’t oblige.
“Come on, Y/N,” he said gently, a slightly hurt look emerging in his eyes. “I’m your best friend – we’re all your best friends. Do you really not trust us enough to tell us?”
You wished with all your heart that you and Mattheo could actually telecommunicate, because the glances you were shooting him clearly weren’t explaining anything. “I just…don’t want to talk about this right now,” you insisted.
“Ughhh, you already picked the easy one anyway!” Draco protested. “Just say it and get one with it, it’s not like we’re going to tell him.”
Saying it right now would be telling him, you idiot, you wished you could shout. Instead, you stubbornly shook your head again. “Nope. We always play this game as Truth, Dare, or drink. I’ll drink.” Finally, Mattheo passed you the bottle and you took what you hoped was a deep enough drink to satisfy your nosy friends. “Okay, Enz, you can ask someone else, since I didn’t do it.” This pacified Enzo well enough and you pulled your knees up to your chest, curling yourself into Tom’s side as you listened to Blaise reveal his first Hogwarts crush – Marietta Edgecombe, apparently. Tom wrapped his arm around you again and unconsciously began playing with the edge of your pajama shorts that hung around your outer thigh. Goosebumps ran across your skin at his touch and you struggled to conceal just how euphoric you felt from being close to him.
Finally, after several rounds of the game, Mattheo fixed Tom in his gaze. “Brother.”
“Yes?” Tom responded dispassionately.
“Truth or – wait a second, why are you two cuddling?”
The entire group seemed to turn their focus to you two at once and you wanted to curl up in a ball and hide, your eyes widening. Tom, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care, and he kept his arm around you as he held his brother’s gaze.
“She’s had quite a lot to drink, I suspect if I wasn’t keeping her on the couch she would have fallen off of it by now,” he responded in a bored tone. Your heart sank. Had you been reading too much into all of this? Was he just looking out for you, like you were some other duty for him to check off his list? You sat up, hoping to prove that you were fine. “Anyway, you were saying?”
“Truth or dare, brother?”
“Dare.” Mattheo grinned.
“I-“
“Wait a second,” Blaise interrupted. “I have a great one. Call it a…punishment for noncompliance, if you will.” Your stomach flipped nervously as Mattheo’s eyebrows raised. “Let me intercept this one?”
“Let’s hear it,” Mattheo agreed. Blaise smirked. You glanced at Tom, who appeared unimpressed.
“Well,” Blaise began, giving the two of you the closest thing to an evil grin that you’d ever seen, “It seems that a whole slew of problems could be solved here. Riddle, you’re looking for a great way to relieve some stress. Y/N, if that bloke you’re into is too embarrassing to tell us about, then you definitely need to get over him. Ergo, I propose…Seven Minutes in Heaven. Between the two of you.”
You froze, your eyes wide as everyone turned to look at you and Tom for what felt like the fiftieth time that night.
“We are not getting in the closet like we’re dolls that you children want to make kiss,” Tom sneered, frowning at Blaise. “Give me the whiskey, I’ll drink.”
“No, no more drinking!” Draco protested with a laugh, leaning forward in his chair and blocking Enzo as he moved to pass the bottle. “This is getting boring. I agree with Zabini, you two have been way too friendly tonight.” He pointed at a broom closet in the corner. “Get in that broom closet, I don’t care what you do, just don’t come out until we say so.” Tom raised a single eyebrow.
“If you want us to go stand in a broom closet for seven minutes, fine,” he said evenly, standing up. You followed his lead, accepting your fate. “Enjoy the show,” he drawled as he followed you into the closet, shutting the door behind you.
You’d been in a broom closet before alone, and as tight as it had been by yourself, it was unimaginably more cramped with someone else in there too. You and Tom stood chest-to-chest with barely anywhere to go as tension rose in the air. Frankly, you were at your wits’ end. Finally, Tom had acknowledged you, held you, been so gentle and kind to you for more than a few moments only to brush it all aside, only for some stupid dare to ruin it. And now? Now you had to stand around in a broom closet for seven minutes of awkward silence with the boy you’d had it bad for since first year. You’d had too much to drink, you were tired, and before you knew it, you were crying.
“Hey. Hey,” Tom’s voice cut through the silence. He waved his wand and light streamed from it, finally illuminating the room. You covered your face in embarrassment – you couldn’t believe you were crying in front of one of the most notoriously intimidating people at Hogwarts, let alone someone you fancied, and whose opinion you cared deeply about. But you felt his hands wrap around your wrists and slowly, gently, he removed your hands from your face. “Why are you crying?”
“I’m…really tired,” you managed to get out with a sniffle, figuring that was the easiest way to explain it.
“Hey,” he murmured wiping your tears with his thumb as he looked down at you, his hand cupping your cheek. “Don’t let them get to you. They can’t actually tell us what to do, you know. We can leave if we want. Do you want to leave?” You shook your head.
“I’m just frustrated,” you responded softly. “They can be really nosy sometimes.”
“They should trust you,” he said, letting his hands fall to your shoulders. “I’m sure you have your reasons for the things you don’t want to tell them.”
“I do.” You let your head fall against his chest, then paused, recalling an old conversation with Mattheo. “Does that…bother you? Matty told me that you aren’t always the most…touchy person.” A soft chuckle resonated through the broom closet as he wrapped his arms around you, stroking your hair gently.
“That doesn’t apply to you.” His raspy voice was hushed, almost a whisper, but you heard it clearly. You felt your heart beat faster. “If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t.”
After a pause, you opened your mouth again, your voice almost a whisper.
“I wasn’t drunk enough to go falling off the couch, you know.”
“I know.”
You looked up at him, his eyes as enthralling as ever, so dark in the dim light that they looked like the glow of the Black Lake. Daring to explore, you reached your hand up and gently brushed the side of his face, your palm tingling as you laid it to rest at the base of his neck, your fingers twining in his curls.
“But you didn’t even want to do this…” you trailed off softly, your insecurity showing its face. His expression hardened.
“I didn’t want to go into a closet with you for some dare,” he said firmly. “I want you. Salazar, I always have.” Your heart raced, and you hardly dared to believe what you were hearing. “But if we’re going to do this, I won’t go back. It can’t be for a stupid dare.”
“I’ve wanted you since the moment I first saw you,” you confessed. “No matter how hard I try not to, Tom.”
“Who’s this idiot you fancy then?” Tom murmured, his intense stare utterly intoxicating as his hands moved to your waist and his thumb traced your hip, the edge of his ring pressing into the bone. “I want to make you forget he ever existed.” You giggled softly at the irony, glancing down at the floor and in response, he took your jaw in his hand and brought your eyes back to his. Your stomach flipped eagerly as you felt his strong grip and you wondered how in the world someone could feel so much like danger and safety at the same time. “Will you let me make you forget him?”
“That would be difficult, considering that I’m currently in a broom closet with him,” you replied, a mischievous smile pulling at your lips. Desire danced behind his eyes as they stared back into yours. He released your jaw and moved his hand to the back of your neck, his other one coming to rest on the small of your back.
“Well then,” he whispered teasingly, a smirk growing on his face. “I suppose we still have six minutes or so.”
The second his lips connected with yours, you were addicted.
You’d fantasized about Tom Riddle kissing you a million times and yet, nothing could compare to the real thing. He tasted like Firewhiskey and sharp mint and the fierceness of the kiss, of the way he held you in his arms, made your heart race. His hands roamed across your body, exploring your skin, as his tongue parted your lips, making you whimper softly. He let out a moan, his fingers tracing the bare skin of your thighs as his other hand wrapped around the side of your neck possessively.
“Tom…” His name escaped your lips as his touches grew more intense with need.
Your noises of pleasure seemed to fuel him, and he moved forward until your back collided with the shelves behind you. He picked you up and you wrapped your legs around him as his lips continued to work against yours. You whined in disappointment when he broke the kiss, but it quickly became a moan of pleasure as his lips moved to your neck, making your whole body tingle with desire.
“You’re perfect,” he groaned breathily, staring into your eyes. “You’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” you whimpered as he sucked on your neck, giving you the perfect mix of pain and pleasure. “All yours.”
Six minutes later, you were breathing heavily and your neck was covered in hickeys when a knock at the door snapped you back to reality.
“Uh, guys? You can come out now,” echoed the hesitant voice of Enzo Berkshire.
“Yeah, we’re sorry about the dare,” Pansy called. “It was a really stupid joke.”
“Maybe if we ignore them, they’ll go away,” you whispered, and Tom, appearing as though he hadn’t even heard the disturbance, continued to kiss and suck at your neck and collarbones, determined to further mark you as his.
“OH, EW!”
The two of you looked up to see the door open, Mattheo staring at the scene in front of him in horror.
“You guys literally dared us to!” you immediately protested as Tom turned around to glare at his brother. You snatched the nearest item – broom polish – off the shelves and hurled it in the general direction of your best friend.
“I didn’t object, that’s different than being the one who issued the dare,” Mattheo complained as the broom polish container smashed on the floor behind him. You struggled to straighten yourself out before the rest of your friends saw you. Smoothing your hair, you stepped out of the broom closet and back into the common room. “I didn’t know you were going to – that’s my best mate, bro!”
“You introduced me to her,” Tom replied evenly, a smirk dancing on his lips. “From my angle, you only have yourself to blame.”
He wrapped his arm around your waist possessively as the two of you moved back towards your friends, retaking your seats. If they’d been shocked when they saw you laying your head on his shoulder before, it was nothing compared to now. Pansy was openly gaping at the hickies on your neck, the room completely silent.
“Yes!” Daphne exclaimed, finally breaking the tension. “I knew it! Pans, you owe me five galleons and a trip to Gladrags tomorrow.”
“What?” Enzo exclaimed in confusion, just as you cried, “you two were betting on us?”
“Just about whether you two would get together before or after Christmas,” Pansy clarified. “We both knew you would figure it out eventually.”
“I had a little more faith,” Daphne added smugly.
“Wait,” Enzo stuttered. “I’m confused. So is he…?” he trailed off, pointing at Tom.
“The mystery Slytherin? Yes,” you admitted, blushing slightly. Tom pulled you in closer and you draped both of your legs over his thigh.
“Ohhhh! That makes so much sense,” Draco blurted suddenly, making you laugh.
“And they knew?” Mattheo exclaimed, looking back and forth between Pansy and Daphne like he’d been kicked.
“I’m so sorry, Matty,” you said sincerely. “They figured it out themselves at the beginning of the year. I wanted to tell you, I really did, it was just harder…”
“…because he’s my brother,” Mattheo finished. “I get it.”
“I wanted to tell all of you, I really did,” you assured your friends. “I just wasn’t ready to tell Matty yet, and then he showed up,” you continued with a laugh, gesturing at Tom, “and there was no way I was about to drop that on him in a middle of late-night Truth or Dare.”
“Uh, yeah,” Enzo nodded, eyes wide. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I messed up big time.”
“It’s okay, Enz, I forgive you,” you replied gently. “It was just the weirdest circumstances ever.”
“Guess who didn’t mess up big time, though?” Blaise cut in, grinning as he pointed to himself. “Blaise Zabini, matchmaker extraordinaire!” Daphne promptly swatted him in the back of the head with a pamphlet for the Gobstones team that sat on a nearby end table.
“This did not happen because of you, but in spite of you locking us in a closet for nearly ten minutes,” Tom remarked, glaring at Blaise through narrowed eyes.
“Hey, clearly you made it work,” Blaise retorted, gesturing at your hickies as you stuck out your tongue at him. “Put that tongue back in your mouth, I’m not Riddle.”
“If you’re such a matchmaker, why can’t you matchmake yourself?” Pansy joked, gesturing between Blaise and Daphne. He had the decency to look slightly embarrassed as Daphne flushed.
You relaxed against Tom’s chest as your friends continued to talk and joke. The conversation became progressively more unfollowable as you all finished the last of the liquor, maintaining your tipsy state. Once the bottles were empty, Mattheo Vanished them with ease.
“How is it that you got a T on your Transfiguration OWL, but you can always manage it to get yourself out of trouble?” Tom groaned at his brother, leaning his forehead into his hand in frustration.
“Because I’ve got my priorities straight,” Mattheo replied with a smirk. “We could talk about your indiscretions too, you know.”
“You mean hexing that cheating Ravenclaw bloke?” Tom asked. You glanced up at him in surprise, watching his eyes grow dark for a moment before his face softened as his gaze met yours. “I’d do it again,” he said, turning back to his brother.
“Yuck,” Mattheo retorted, scrunching up his face in disgust. “Thanks for finally showing an emotion, you can go back to the way you were now.”
“Matty!” you protested jokingly, pouting at him. “Don’t you want your brother to be sweet to me?” He grinned.
“Of course I do,” he responded with a chuckle. “Although, quite frankly, I don’t know what you see in him.” Tom frowned. “I just hope he knows that if he ever hurts you, he’s going to get the same beating I was about to give that Ravenclaw.”
“I’m quaking,” Tom retorted dryly. “And unlike some of us, I have no interest in maintaining a list of romantic casualties.” He paused for a moment, his attention occupied as he gently played with the ends of your hair before turning back to Mattheo. “Speaking of which, I hear yours are in such numbers that they’re considering forming a school club for themselves.” Mattheo laughed good-naturedly before making a face.
Your friends talked for a few more minutes, the sentences growing progressively more incoherent as everyone struggled to resist the call of sleep. They began to splinter off, wandering back to the dormitories, as your own eyes fluttered shut. You felt totally at peace until Tom gently shook you awake.
“I’ll just sleep here,” you mumbled and you heard him chuckle as he kissed your forehead.
“No, you’ve got to go sleep in your bed,” he corrected bemusedly. “I’ll tell you what. If you go sleep in your bed for me, I’ll take you out wherever you want in Hogsmeade tomorrow, how does that sound?” Your heart skipped a beat as you sat up quickly. An actual date with the guy of your dreams. He watched you, a grin emerging on his face, as you nodded eagerly.
You barely managed to stay awake for long enough to climb into bed, but as you did, you felt your chest fill with warmth, your mind flashing back to the feeling of Tom’s lips on yours as you closed your eyes. It had been a long, confusing road to get here, but it was so worth it in the end.
request — Cedric and his parents go on a trip to another country during the summer and during it, Cedric meets reader at a park reading, they strike up a conversation but seeing as they are both wizards and neither of them realize the other is also a wizard they dont keep in touch. when they return to Hogwarts, Cedric glances around and sees reader sitting with the Slytherins at dinner and asks them on a hogsmeade date to catch up. — @hea-vin
you sigh as you take a seat on the bench, family long discarded in favour of resting your aching body from the shopping and sight-seeing you've been doing for the past 5 hours and reading a book instead. you fail to notice the boy taking a seat at the exact same time as you and so you startle when he chuckles and asks "long day?"
"sadly," you groan and stretch your neck to the side, closing over your novel "you in the same predicament?"
"sadly," he huffs and ruffles his hair as he leans back, legs spreading slightly in the process "where abouts are you from?" he asks shortly after.
"live in central london," you turn to properly look at him "what about you?"
"near devon, england." he seems to be around your age, brown hair mixed with golden highlights that seemed too soft and fluffy to be dyed. his face was certainly something to admire, high cheekbones dusted with pink and freckles that accompanied them, lips wide and full and jawline sharp in its edges. his eyes are a mix of hazel and green with specks of gold similar to the ones in his hair, once you notice you've been looking for a bit too long you clear your throat and look to the side.
.
"how long are you staying here for?" the boy asks you, head tilted to the side as he scans you, your face seemed familiar but he wasn't sure where he recognised you from.
"i think two more days," you ponder "i'm not sure, i'm just tagging along with my family." you shrug and he smiles in return.
"same here, though i think we're staying for the week." you nod and he follows it with "how have you liked it so far then?"
"it's been pretty alright actually," you respond with a grin "i mean apart from the heckling of being with family and having siblings, the sights here are so pretty and the food is delicious."
the brunet agrees with you, the same amiable smile decorating his lips "it is quite beautiful here, though i don't have any siblings to put a dimmer on my experience."
"oh lucky you," you sigh "i wish i was an only child."
the boy laughs as he shakes his head "i often wished i had a sibling to play with."
you glance at him with a cheeky look "want to trade?"
"i'm afraid i'm too used to being an only child." he shrugs and you pout.
"bummer, i could've been having the time of my life had you agreed." you shut your eyes as you allow the sunlight to bathe you in its rays, peeking an eye open after a few seconds, you focus it on the boy beside you "you sure?"
"you didn't exactly sell it out to be the greatest thing," he pauses and hums "might need some convincing."
you tap your fingers against your thighs as you ponder "well for starters, i guess they're somewhat cute—" you're cut off by a yell of your name. the two of you turn to see a 6 year old running towards you with a cup full of fruits.
"mama said you have to come back, we're going to another place." the child rushes through her words and almost chokes on a pineapple during the relay of her message and you send the boy next to you a look which caused him to chuckle.
"slow down, you're going to choke." you pat her back gently and shake your head as you stand up, sending her away as your bags go back in your hands and your book is put away.
"well, it was nice chat," you smile at the guy still sitting "i'll work on the pro's for the next time if i see you around."
"i look forward to it, farewell, my chatting companion." he waves and you try to mimic him with a tiny wave of your own as you follow behind your sister.
it's a shame you met the handsome stranger in a foreign country and not back at home. alas, it was probably worse that he was most likely a muggle who you could not communicate with. a bummer how all the good ones you're destined to only meet once you think to yourself.
the bustling of the students feels familiar as you take your seat beside your friends in the great hall.
"how was your holiday?" asks emma from your side, nudging you with her elbow the second dumbledore announced that the feast shall commence.
"emma, had you not slept the whole ride from kings cross to here, you would've known."
your other friend, ben, interrupts as he places a hand on his chest and haughtily stares down at emma "since i was actually awake to converse with my friend like normal people do, i had the opportunity to hear about [name]'s first crush on this british boy she met on holiday."
emma ignores bens attitude as she turns to you with her mouth open, a gasp escaping her lips "no. way." she whispers and you roll your eyes.
"it's not a crush, ben just wants to mess with you." you retort at her wide eyes and disbelieving expression.
"come now, [name], it's not everyday you compliment a boys look to us, he must've really swooned you." ben teases and you sigh.
"you make it seem like i've never complimented anyone." you deadpan and your friends scoff.
"fine, i'll never tell you anything again." you mutter in spite and ben and emma hurriedly attempt to placate you throughout the rest of dinner as they try to coerce you to spill about the handsome stranger who caught your attention and affection.
towards the end of dinner when conversations take over and everyone is only lightly taking bites of their desserts, ben finds his eyes drifting behind you before his expression changes into one of curiosity "say," he interrupts you and emma, you two turn to him with an unimpressed look "does anyone know why the diggory boy keeps looking back here every now and then?" he gives you a look "any of you associated with him?"
emma wistfully sighs as she places her head on her closed fist "i wish, i'd totally get with him if he wanted." you give her a look and clear your throat.
"umm, who's diggory?"
the two sigh "cedric diggory? the captain of the hufflepuff quidditch team?..." ben asks as if that'll help you and you turn to emma "he's blondish, tall, absolutely dreamy?" she quips and you hum.
"he sounds like the perfect package, how come i don't know about him?" you ask and they shrug.
"merlin knows how in your world you are, as a slytherin, it will do you good to build connections." ben adds and emma taps your shoulder to get you to turn around and show you who exactly cedric is. as you turn your head however, you catch the eye of a certain quidditch captain, you're met with the sight of the boy from your holiday and your breathe hitches as he stands and makes his way over.
"okay, now why is he coming here?" ben asks once more and emma shrugs as she watches the two of you stare at each other.
"it's you." you both utter at the same time and his face breaks out into a smile that you can't help but reciprocate.
"i thought i'd never see you again." the boy scratches the back of his neck as his cheeks colour a rosy hue.
"and i you." you nod in reciprocation.
"well since luck seems to have found me, i think i have to take full advantage of it and ask you on a date." you hear one of your friends choke but you choose to ignore them and put up a front of a thinking face as cedric waits for your answer "i just have to find out what the pros are."
you sigh as you cross your arms "i did try to come up with an extensive list..." you look up at the boy and nod "fine, i'll free a day and make a compelling case for you."
you did not think cedrics grin could widen anymore and yet you stand (sit) corrected as his teeth show "i look forward to it!" he waves you goodbye as he heads back to his table and rejoins his friends.
"turns out this priss not only knows diggory but managed to bag a date with him."
and i can't help that the devil likes to come and rest his little head
summary: Your sweet devil came back to you, declaring his love and now, you were both kneeling in front of each other, holding each other so lovingly.
When you heard the word 'devil', you didn't think of sharp horns and the colour red.
Instead, your own idea of devil came in green. Your devil was intelligent and handsome, with soft, curly hair.
Your own idea of a devil was Tom Riddle.
You knew of the evil deeds he had done, how he had framed Morfin Gaunt for the murder of the Riddle family and how he had ordered his Basilisk to kill that Ravenclaw girl. You knew of the dark magic that coursed through his veins.
He was cunning and determined. He wouldn't even think twice about using people for his own needs and throwing them aside once he had what he desired.
So, why were you still here?
It was a question you didn't want the answer to, in fear of driving him away, but it was a question that you couldn't help but to repeat in your mind. You doubted Tom would be happy upon hearing that question. You doubted that he would be overjoyed at the realisation that he didn't have a valid reason to keep you around besides—
Besides...
He had wordlessly pulled you closer, with his slender hands gripping your shoulders. He pressed your body against his, and you enjoyed how it felt so right. Despite him being whoever he was, this felt right. You didn't say a word when he moved his hands from your shoulders to sneak his arms around your waist. You didn't say a word when he rested his head against yours. You didn't say a word as you returned his embrace, noticing the way he exhaled, as if being in your arms had freed him from all his burdens.
You didn't say a word because you knew this was what he needed — you.
Whenever you thought of the why, it always ended up with the same reason. The same absurd reason. It was extremely absurd of you to even think that someone like Tom Riddle would even indulge himself in love, of all things.
A part of you hoped that he would, you really hoped that he would.
The signs were there, and everyone could see it. Everyone knew how he felt about you and how you felt about him, because it was obvious.
It was easy to notice his affection towards you when you would catch him staring at you more than once. He wouldn't even look away sometimes. He always looked as if he was trying to uncover something about you, to look into you deeper and more. It was easy to notice his affection towards you when he would randomly brush away the few strands of hair away from your face with the softest touch and when he would tuck your hair behind your ear whenever you were talking.
It seemed like he didn't know why he did what he did with you. Perhaps, he knew but he was scared to acknowledge it. It was funny to you, that you knew him more than he knew himself.
You waited for the day where he would acknowledge his own feelings for you, despite how impossible that would be.
As you stared at Tom planning out his ambitions and telling you about the world he envisioned, you were reminded once again that he wasn't for you.
You loved him, genuinely. You loved the thrill you felt whenever you were with him, you loved the danger of him and you loved that he was him. You even saw him as more, the Hogwarts prodigy, the perfect knowledgeable man and the gentleman who always treated you with the best care despite the things he had done.
You saw him as what he could be.
That was your problem.
He had stopped talking, and his attention was now on his book with his other hand holding yours. Your heart jumped at the his warmth now that you acknowledged it.
You pulled away.
He looked up instantly, staring at you curiously.
"What are we, Tom?" you whispered.
He blinked. "Why do you ask?"
"Can't I?"
"You were never bothered by us," he said, raising an eyebrow.
"That was before. It was fun before but now—" you swallowed, when you noticed his eyebrows furrowed. "Now, I've grown tired of it. You have a future planned out, and I have my own too."
He closed his book loudly, leaning closer to you. You could feel irritation coming off from him.
"And just what is your future?" he asked through gritted teeth.
"The future that I see?" you whispered. "One without you in it."
"You're leaving me?" he asked incredulously.
"I love you," you said, causing him to lean back, visibly startled at the three words that you had never said to each other, despite feeling it. "I do, and I've always been by your side with whatever you do."
You took his hand in yours. "I have a bright future for myself, everyone could see it, everyone says that, and I can't have that by staying with you, Tom. You know what you do, don't you?"
His jaw clenched. "This is about what I do? Do you want me to leave them all behind, then?"
"No," you said sharply. "I'm not asking you to change for me, I've accepted that it wasn't ever going to happen. I'm saying that I'm leaving you because our paths are different."
"You've accepted that it wasn't going to happen?" he laughed cruelly. "You've lost hope for me now?"
"Perhaps, I did," you replied, standing up. This wasn't going anywhere. You were supposed to just say it and leave him. "But why should you care? I'm not here to fix you, am I? That's not the reason you keep me around, is it?"
He pressed his lips into a thin line and you raised an eyebrow. "You were expecting me to fix you?"
"I know what I do is morally wrong, yet you never stopped me," he said quietly. "It was almost as if you liked me that way."
"Because I can't stop you."
"You never tried," he replied quickly, with a hint of desperation in his voice. What was he desperate for?
"It doesn't matter now," you hissed in irritation. He was making it harder for you. Could you even consider this a breakup if you were never officially together?
You stepped closer. "It doesn't matter now because I realise that as much as I love you, I'm in love with the idea of what you could be, not what you are right now."
"You..." you whispered. "You're an evil man, Tom. I wish you weren't. I wish you were the boy that everyone sees, that my parents approved of me to be with, that Slughorn speaks so highly of. Do you know how proud I am whenever he speaks of having connections in the Ministry and wanting to help you out in the future as soon as you get out of Hogwarts?"
You laughed humourlessly. "But you don't want that."
He whispered, "Your parents approved of me? Of us?"
"Again, it doesn't matter now," you replied sharply. You turned around and approached the door. As you held the doorknob, you said quietly, "I'm sorry that this conversation had to go this way. Goodluck with your Horcruxes, Tom. I know you'll succeed in being the greatest."
"I hope..." you continued. "I hope that I won't find myself facing the end of your wand one day."
A week had passed and you were glad to say that you were doing better. You did feel miserable after leaving him for good, but you started seeing on the brighter side. He wasn't meant for you and you weren't meant for him, no matter how much you thought you could change him.
He was your type, certainly. Intelligent, bad and cunning, but having him in your life wouldn't do you any good. You certainly had a thing for the broken things, but you knew the difference between fantasy and reality, and the reality was that he was going to stay that way.
Your friends had asked you what happened between you two. Other people did too, and even Slughorn, which was not surprising for you, considering he was Tom's biggest fan. You just chose to tell them that you both decided to take a break. You refused to tell them why.
You just hoped Tom was saying the same thing if he was asked these questions.
You did miss him, terribly. Seeing him everyday didn't help that feeling. You certainly did still love him, but you found other things to occupy yourself with, hence why you were doing better. Even when there were times you wished you never left him, it didn't matter and you didn't show it. Plus, you've always been good at pretending.
You were going to pretend until you actually feel fine and completely moved on from him, but you would catch him staring. Whenever you did, it was almost like nothing had changed. You hated that.
You weren't actually in love with him, were you?
Of course not, you loved the idea of him.
You loved that he was bad and powerful, that he was capable of things other people weren't.
You also loved that he treated you with care, listened to everything you told him and paid attention to everything you told him. You loved that he would remember things about you that you wouldn't expect anyone else to remember—Tom Riddle was never anyone else, was he?
Perhaps, you did love him, but you couldn't ignore the bad things he did and what he achieved to be.
You sighed as you closed the book you were reading. Despite that it had already been a week, not a day went by where you didn't think of him.
Weekends were usually your favourite time of the week, because you always had something planned, something to do. This week, however, something was different. Was it because most of your plans before usually involved him?
As you tucked your book under your arm, you bid goodbye to your friends, who cheerfully returned the gesture.
You noticed how their expression had suddenly changed to looking startled, how their gazes were now fixed on something behind you. You wanted to ask what was wrong, but your curiosity was answered when someone cleared their throat behind you.
When your name was uttered by the person behind you, by that certain someone, you felt that familiar feeling again. The thrill, the butterflies in your stomach and how your heart skipped a beat.
You turned around, meeting the gaze of Tom Riddle.
You noticed that you had gathered some attention from the people around you, but he didn't seem to mind. He looked at you with an unreadable expression on his face, but if you had to identify it, it would be anxiousness.
What would Tom Riddle be anxious for?
"Come with me," he said softly, stretching out a hand for you to take.
You glanced at his hand briefly and you couldn't help but to notice something was missing. Where's your ring, Tom?
"Please," he added urgently.
As you let your heart decide for you, you wordlessly took his hand.
You walked by his side through the many corridors and you were grateful to feel the warmth of his hand again, to feel his touch again. You didn't question him, you didn't want to.
To your surprise and horror, both of you stopped in the girl's bathroom.
You watched in fear as he murmured something in Parseltongue and you immediately retracted your hand as the entrance that led to Chamber of Secrets emerged. He turned to you, and you noticed that he was holding his diary in his other hand.
Your eyes flickered between the familiar entrance and him.
"I won't tell anyone about what you do," you whispered, stepping back.
He quickly held onto your wrist before you could take another step. "I'm not here to harm you. I would never even try to."
"Then why are we here?"
He slowly slid his hand down from your wrist to your hand, before letting it go and stepping closer to the entrance. "For you to change your mind."
He jumped down and you hurriedly stepped forward, watching his figure disappear into the darkness.
You were terrified, but your trust in him overpowered that fear.
You jumped.
You had clung onto him all the way to the Chamber, hands curled into fists and gripping onto his coat. Despite being here two to three times before with him, the pathway that led you to the Chamber would still scare you. You still remembered how you had jumped on Tom the first time you saw the Basilisk's shredded skin, thinking it was the actual thing. You also remembered how he had caught you effortlessly and tried his best to calm you down. Your heart jumped at the memory.
This was not how you expected your Sunday would go. What you expected was a Tom Riddle-less and Chamber of Secrets-less Sunday. Anything but your current situation.
You couldn't even stop the negative thoughts that were clouding your mind at the moment. He could easily kill you and leave you here, and no one would find you. He never harmed you before, and he just said that he would never even try, but you weren't together anymore. Things were different now.
Once again, you were pathetically hoping that he would change.
You let go of his coat once you both had entered the Chamber, slowly walking beside him now and resting a hand on your wand.
"Don't be so tense," he said, with a hint of amusement in his voice that got you offended.
"This is funny to you," you pointed out in disbelief.
"You have nothing to be afraid of. As long as I'm here, you have nothing to be afraid of," he said softly, with his voice now devoid of humour.
"You're not going to kill me?" you whispered, feeling slightly ridiculous now saying it out loud.
He pressed his lips into a thin line, as if you had just said something offensive to him. Perhaps it was indeed offensive.
"Is that what you think of me now?"
"I would dispose of me, if I were you."
"Fortunately for me, you are not me," he said, before looking at where you knew the Basilisk would be resting. "You know what to do, don't you?"
Despite your fear, you obeyed and immediately stood in front of him, facing him. "Why?" you asked urgently, afraid.
"I'm not letting it out for you," Tom murmured. "Please don't be so afraid."
You swallowed, once again placing your trust in him. You lowered your head and closed your eyes. Now that you had blocked out one sense, your hearing was heightened.
Tom was saying something in Parseltongue, and you heard the sound of the stone moving distantly behind you. You couldn't help but to step forward to where Tom was and grip onto his coat once again. You felt his hand on your back, rubbing it softly as an attempt to comfort you.
You heard something moving behind you and you wanted nothing more than to leave. Knowing that a historical beast was moving behind you, living, while you had your eyes closed was frightening.
Tom would protect you, right?
He said something in Parseltongue again and there was a few seconds of silence before he finally talked to you again.
"You can look now."
You slowly pulled away, hands still gripping onto his coat and lifted your head up to look at him, receiving a reassuring look in return. You turned around, flinching as soon as you set your eyes on the Basilisk, which had its deadly eyes closed.
"And why..." you swallowed. "Why is it here?"
"You said to me that..." he started, causing you to look back at him. "You told me that you love me."
You blinked, startled. "I did."
"Do you, still, love me?" he asked softly.
"Does it matter?"
"Yes," he said firmly. "Because I love you."
You sputtered and let go of him in surprise. "What are you trying to do?"
"Stay with me. Come back to me," he said, almost desperately. "Come back to me and I will leave everything behind. In fact, right now—this diary, my very first Horcrux, I will destroy it right here."
He said desperately, while holding up his Horcrux to show you. "I can be what you want me to be, just come back to me."
"This is quite rushed," you said softly. "Why are you giving up your dreams for one person? What happens when you regret it?"
"I won't regret it," he said firmly, jaw clenching. "You are not just one person. You're my person, who stayed with me throughout everything, made me feel the things I didn't expect to feel and—you understand me more than anyone else."
"So, please," he whispered. "Tell me... do you still love me?"
You nodded. "With my whole heart."
"Can I be yours—again?"
You nodded again, unable to find any words.
He looked down at his diary, with his thumb softly caressing the cover, treating his soul so lovingly.
"You said your parents approved of me," he whispered. "I couldn't stop thinking about that. I also couldn't stop thinking about how... how you said you love me. It hurt me when you said that you hoped you wouldn't be facing the end of my wand one day. It hurt me that it even crossed your mind. It hurt me more that—if I continue on this path, there's a possibility that that might happen."
"One whole week without you," he continued. "It made me feel like how life was before I met you—empty. I always thought having power would fill that void, but it seemed that... it only widened it."
"Until you," he said, looking back up at you. "I never felt empty with you, I realised."
He then threw the book behind you, causing you to turn around and look at where it landed, right in front of the Basilisk. You almost jumped, as you had forgotten that the beast was still there.
"The Basilisk's venom is quite deadly," he stated, looking at his diary on the floor. "Tell me this is worth it."
You turned to him and told him the truth without hesitation. "It's worth it, Tom. We're worth it."
You looked up at him longingly, and placed a hand on his cheek, loving the way his eyes fluttered at your touch. He then spoke in Parseltongue for the Basilisk, despite still looking at you.
You heard the movements behind you, and you refused to look. You found that it was better to look into his eyes, until—
"Tom?!" you exclaimed, when he fell forward to you and groaned in pain.
You tried to hold him up, and you gasped as he fell to his knees, still moaning in pain.
"Tom!"
"It's—" he choked out. "The soul—"
You bit your lip, feeling useless now knowing that there was nothing you could do to ease his pain. Seeing him in pain was a new sight to you and you hated how it hurt your heart to see him like this, the usually composed Tom Riddle, kneeling on the floor in pain.
You chose to pull his head to your shoulder, wrapping your arms around his neck in hopes that your embrace would make him feel better.
It wasn't until a few moments later you realised that he wasn't groaning in pain anymore, only letting out heavy breaths on your shoulder. He lifted his head, resting his chin on your shoulder as he said something in Parseltongue. Behind you, you heard a movement, then water splashing slightly and finally, the sound of the stone again. The Basilisk was gone now.
You pulled away and cradled his face gently. He looked at you tiredly and wrapped his fingers around your wrists.
"I've already destroyed the ring yesterday," he said softly, with his thumb caressing the back of your hand affectionately. "The diary was the last one. I wanted to be with you when destroying it, especially after finding out how painful it was."
Your eyes burned and you blinked your eyes several times. You couldn't help the tears that pooled up in your eyes. You tried so hard to pretend that you were completely over him, but then your sweet devil came back to you, declaring his love and now, you were both kneeling in front of each other, holding each other so lovingly.
"You're mine again," you chuckled, as a tear fell from your eye.
"I am," he confirmed.
You sniffled and laughed, earning a small smile from him.
"I've missed your touch," he whispered. "It always feels right being touched by you. It makes me feel..."
"Loved?" you supplied.
"Loved," he nodded, seemingly coming to terms with it. "Do you feel the same way?"
"All the time, with you."
He licked his lips. "Tell me—what is your future?"
You tilted your head, brushing his hair back gently. "One with you in it."
He sighed in relief, as his hands found their way to your waist to pull you closer. When he pressed his lips against yours and moved them passionately, you agreed wholeheartedly, it felt right.
When he pulled away, he didn't hesitate to rest his head on your shoulder with his eyes closed, finding comfort in your embrace. You smiled to yourself, seeing your devil in such vulnerability that only you could see.
Garreth Weasley x f!MC - Fluff/Banter - 3.2k words - ao3 link
While helping Garreth forage for potion ingredients, a misplaced apparition leaves you both magic-less and stranded somewhere in the Forbidden Forest.
Black Cat MC, Golden Retriever Garreth // Huddling for Warmth/One Bed trope // MC is a little mean, Garreth is a pining himbo who loves her for it
Recent Weasley Wednesdays have awakened something in me for this man and I just... 🫠 had to write a dumb lil fic
“Just stay quiet and stay behind me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Garreth gives you a mock salute before he follows you further into the moss-covered cavern. Water drips from stalactites on the ceiling, the sound echoing eerily off the stone walls.
Your wand is outstretched in front of you, a soft glow emitting from the tip of the wood and illuminating the surrounding space. The lair is quiet, too quiet, and your shoulders are strung high with anticipation, reflexes trained to react accordingly to any threat.
At the first sight of an acromantula, Garreth shrieks, before you quickly slash the creature’s head off with a slicing hex. Suddenly the cave is not so quiet, the sound of numerous legs scrambling down the stone passageways of the cavern some distance away, quiet hisses and clicking.
“Shout a little bit louder, will you?” You chastise. “I think you only woke about eighty percent of the colony.”
“Oh, my bad!” Garreth retorts. “I’ll make sure to keep my cool the next time a hairy, eight-legged monster lunges for my throat.”
He quickly kneels beside the carcass, grimacing when he slices into the exoskeleton of the creature with a scalpel and black goo immediately drenches his fingers. He makes a small puncture in the venomous gland and collects the liquid into a vial, corking it and wiping his hands with a disgusted shudder. “Merlin, I hate spiders.”
“Yet you drag me to an acromantula lair?”
“Uh, duh? I’m not spending 100 galleons a pint on this stuff when I have my own personal body guard to help me extract it for free. Plus, this is—” He interrupts himself with another shriek when a second acromantula, about twice the size of the first, pounces from the shadows, fangs flared. You immediately incinerate the creature with a confringo, but Garreth bumps into you in his fright, knocking your wand out of your hand and sending it rolling out of reach on the stone floor of the cavern, your lumos going out with it.
“Weasley, you dimwit!” You groan, feeling around on your hands and knees for the lost wand. It’s pitch black inside the lair, and you know the longer you sit around defenseless and blind, the greater your chance of ending up as spider dinner.
“I found it!” He announces, reigniting the lumos with your wand in hand. He walks back over to you with a smug smile before his eyes catch on something over your shoulder and his expression immediately drops.
You can hear the tell-tale click of pincers behind you and it doesn’t take a genius to guess what’s got him shitting his trousers. Before you can even take back your wand and defend yourself, he’s yanking you into his chest by the collar of your coat and you’re feeling your entire body squeeze with the tug of apparition.
A few seconds later, you land flat on the ground on top of him, limbs entangled in one another’s. You both wince from the impact, your insides feeling like they’ve been rearranged in the wrong order.
“I’m…I’m going to kill you.” You groan, willing yourself not to throw up your lunch all over him.
“‘Oh, thank you, Garreth, for saving us from the big, angry spider.’” He mimics, voice shrill and high-pitched. You’re unamused.
“I would’ve handled it!” You retort, sliding off his chest. You sit up, trying to gain some level of composure after just having all of your atoms immaterialized and recombined. “Where the hell did you even take us?”
He takes a look around, scratching his head as he tries to spot some identifying landmark. “Er, I’m…not sure.”
“Oh, lovely.”
“I wasn’t thinking! There was a ginormous spider in front of me, I kind of just pictured in my head ‘not here’, you know?”
“Perfect! We could be in bloody Uzbekistan right now!”
“I’m flattered that you think I’m powerful enough to accomplish transcontinental apparition at the drop of a hat,” He splays a hand over his chest, a smirk tugging at his lips. He takes another look around the immediate surroundings. “But, we’re clearly still in Scotland, don’t get your knickers in a twist.”
“I’m going to put off throttling you at the moment for both of our sakes,” You pick yourself up off the ground, head still slightly woozy, before you outstretch your hand in front of him. “Just give me my wand so we can get out of here.”
He slowly gets up himself, revealing the piece of wood snapped in two, having been wedged underneath both of you when you apparated.
You gape at the crushed wand, now just a dull, magic-less stick after having severed its core. “I’m going to kill you.”
“You’ve said that already. I don’t think it’s possible to kill someone twice, even with your talents.”
“Garreth, this is serious!” You seethed. “You snapped my wand!”
“I didn’t snap anything, it was a blameless casualty!” He raised his hands in a placating gesture, trying to calm you.
“Oh my God, just, nevermind.” You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Take out yours and apparate us out of here, for the love of Merlin, before I burst an artery.”
He scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “So…about that.”
You look at him dumbfounded. “Tell me you’re joking.”
“Well, excuuuse me for having a little faith in my friend,” He scoffs. “You wield Ancient Magic, for Merlin’s sake! I assumed I was in safe enough hands to leave it in my dorm.”
“Perfect, so we’re stranded in a random forest without any magic.”
“Look, just relax, we’re probably not far from Hogwarts,” He squints his eyes as he focuses on a particularly ordinary piece of shrubbery. “You know what, yeah,” He tilts his head, contemplative, as if this random bush has given him a grand epiphany. “I know exactly where we are, it’s uh— right this way.”
“Oh, then by all means,” You gesture your hand forward.
He takes a couple over-confident steps north before he stops in his tracks, squints and scratches the back of his head as he examines the path in front of him. He turns on his heels on a ninety-degree angle and resumes his strides. “Okay, just kidding. This way, yes, yes, definitely this way.”
“You have no idea where we’re going, do you?”
“Of course I do!”
—
The two of you make your way through the woods for several, long, grueling hours, cutting through thickets and beaten-down paths. For the first few hours it’s admittedly a little peaceful, the forest floor covered in reds and oranges from the autumn leaves, the setting sun casting a warm glow over the treescape. Soon enough though, the last vestiges of daylight dwindle into darkness, shrouding the forest in twilight. When you realize you seem to be nowhere closer to civilization, you stop in your tracks, defeated.
“This is pointless,” You sigh, rubbing the back of your neck. Your feet ache from stepping over so many overgrown roots and boulders and you’re starting to feel sleep pull at your eyes. “We’re clearly getting nowhere.”
“You’re right,” He relented, letting the rucksack slung over his shoulder sink to the floor. “So what now?”
“I think this is the point where we draw lots to decide who eats who.” You sigh. “It’s our best chance at survival.”
He looks genuinely concerned at your seriousness for a moment before he breaks into a smug smirk. “Oh love, if you wanted a piece of this,” He gives you a little wink. “All you had to do was ask.”
You blink at him. “You’ve cured my appetite. Thank you, Weasley.”
“Anytime.”
“Let’s just…call it in for the night.” You lay back on the grass, legs aching. You’re so exhausted you’d probably kiss the blast end of a skrewt for a warm bed. “We’ll walk more in the morning.”
“Good idea.” He kneels down beside you, rummaging through his bag and pulling out various materials that he’s managed to fit inside with an expansion charm.
“Let me get this straight,” You squint at the litter cluttering the floor around you. “You bring with you a frying pan,” You dangle the lunky piece of metal in front of his face. “But not your wand.”
“Uh, yeah?” He scoffs as if it’s obvious. “You never know when you might want a quick snack in the middle of your gallivanting.”
“Great, so I assume you also have some means of starting a fire then? It’s freezing.”
His response is a silent pause, to which you return with a groan.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re not really the sharpest tool in the shed?”
“I have no idea what that means,” He looks at you a little puzzled. “But Sallow has told me I’m not the brightest lacewing fly in the jar.” He scratches his chin, contemplating. “Never really understood what he meant by that.” He shrugs to himself and continues sorting through the madness stuffed in his sack.
“You know, Weasley, you’re so clueless sometimes it’s almost adorable. Like a… big, red Puffskein or something.”
He perks up, looking up at you with a grin stretching ear to ear. “You think I’m adorable?”
“You have selective hearing, huh?”
“Yup,” He pauses for a moment, and you can almost see the little gears turning in his head before he opens his mouth to say something that’s going to give you an even bigger headache. “Okay, so, hypothetically — if aforementioned adorable critter was very tall and very ginger, would you ever shag a Puffsk—”
“Christ, alright, forget I said anything about Puffskeins.”
He raises his hands in an acquiescing gesture before he’s back to rummaging through his bag. You watch as he pulls out cheeses and breads wrapped in cloth, crackers and little jars of jams. The man packs an entire charcuterie board but doesn’t pack basic survival necessities like matches. He grins proudly when he pulls out his pièce de résistance, or so he calls it, a large bottle of cheap, goblin-made elderberry wine.
“Really splurged on the good stuff, huh?” You mutter, a thick layer of sarcasm slathered on top. You eye the label of the bottle, that has enough alcohol stuffed in it to inebriate a young manticore.
“Duh,” He slices you a piece of sourdough. You’re glad that if you’re attacked by poachers or a wild animal, at least you’ll have a flimsy bread knife to defend yourselves with. “What kind of man would I be if I didn’t properly wine and dine my lady on our date.”
“Date, huh?” You snort. You lean in, tapping a finger to his temple. “Think you might’ve hit your head a little too hard when we apparated, Weasley. Something’s not right in there.”
“Oh, that’s not true,” He turns to look at you, a small smile playing at his lips. He holds two jars of jam in front of you. “That I hit when I fell for you. Quite a nasty tumble.” He gives you a wink and you roll your eyes. “Apricot or blackberry?”
“Apricot.”
He opens the jar and slathers a generous layer on top of your bread. It’s admittedly a little endearing to watch him slicing a piece of cheese for you, nimble fingers focusing on the presentation. He hands you the bread with a little ta-da and you bite back a smile.
He makes true on his promise to wine and dine you for the better part of the evening, and you admittedly find yourself enjoying his company a little too much. He’s witty and charming, and despite how much you tease him for being an idiot, he’s so blaringly not. He talks in detail about his latest brewing endeavors, and you marvel at how much practical and theoretical knowledge he has about the subject.
You admire the way his green eyes light up when he speaks about what he’s passionate about. At how they almost seem to glow when he says something that makes you laugh, a proud smile on his face.
“You look pretty like this,” He murmurs some time after the laughter and conversation died down, moonlight casting a soft glow around your surroundings. It’s cold out considering it’s the middle of October, but there’s a pleasant warmth seeping through you from the wine in your stomach and the feel-good banter. You try not to think about how warm he makes you feel, spreading through your body like hot honey.
“Like what?”
“All giggles and smiles,” He nudges your shoulder. “Not so serious. You should do it more often.”
You shrug, chancing a side-long glance at him, a small smile tugging at your lips from the sincereness in his voice. “You should make me do it more often.”
“Believe me,” He grins, lopsided and charming. You’d press your lips to that stupid smile of his, chase the taste of sugary blackberry off his tongue, but you haven’t had nearly enough wine to lower your inhibitions to that point. You just observe him.
“I would dedicate my life to doing exactly so if you let me.”
—
“Aha! Found it.” Garreth pulls out a thick, rolled-up comforter with twine around the middle from the depths of his rucksack, holding it up proudly. It’s plush, and very red and gold — because of course, even Garreth’s sleeping bag has to be on brand. He lays it out under the cover of a large oak tree, smoothing down the fabric.
“Alrighty, climb in,” He pats the soft material. “I don’t mind sharing as long as you promise not to murder me in my sleep.”
“I’m fine right here,” You huddle into yourself on the soft patch of grass you’re laying on, knees bunched up to your chest. “Also, no promises.”
“It’s freezing,” He protests. “You can’t really expect me to let you sleep like that.”
“You don’t have to let me do anything,” You roll your eyes. “I’m sleeping right here.”
“Stop being stubborn and get in the bag.”
“No. I don’t want to get in the bag.”
“Just get in the bag.”
“Oh my god,”
“Get—”
“I’m two seconds away from strangling you.”
“Oho, don’t threaten me with a good time.”
“Weasley.”
“Fine, fine!” He chuckles. “Grouchy. No strangling.”
He settles down for all but five seconds before he opens his mouth again. “Unless it’s erotic strangling, then by all mea—”
“For the love of—”
“Alright, alright! Shutting up now.”
—
You try to keep the sound of your teeth-chattering to a minimum, determined to not give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s right, but you last all of twenty minutes before all of your resolve is withering away.
You peer over at Garreth, his eyes closed, sound asleep. He looks so infuriatingly soft and inviting, and you hate yourself for thinking that his arms would feel heavenly wrapped around you right now, your body pressed to his, leeching off his warmth.
Screw it.
You stand up from your spot, muttering curses to yourself under your breath as you make your way towards him. The second he hears you move, he lifts an arm to open up a space for you, as if expecting it. He doesn’t make a comment, doesn’t even open his eyes, but you can feel his self-satisfied smirk as you slide into the sleeping bag with him, your back pressed to his chest.
And fuck him, if he doesn’t have a right to be self-satisfied.
Because he truly does feel heavenly. He somehow manages to be cushiony and firm all at the same time. You can feel the rigid contours of his muscles pressed against your frame, taut yet velvety soft. You chalk up the heat you feel on your cheeks to the fact that his skin is warm like a furnace, devastatingly comforting. When you press back against him, your body wriggling against his like you’re draping yourself over a sun-bathed rock, he takes it as an open invitation to slide his hands over your sides, arms wrapping around you.
“For fuck’s sake, I’m not your teddy bear—” You grumble but he hushes you.
“I know, Mr. Snuffles is a lot nicer.” He murmurs, cheek pressed against your shoulder. “But, you make do with what you’ve got in the rugged wilderness, I suppose.”
You snort, the image of Garreth actually cuddling with a teddy bear coming into mind. You try not to linger on the fact that’s probably what it’d look like he’s doing at the moment to an outsider’s eyes, his body significantly dwarfing yours.
“Mr. Snuffles? Really?”
“Hey! I named him when I was eight.” He retorts. “Mmhm, you do smell a lot nicer than him, though.”
“I smell like sweat and dirt.”
“Yeah, but it’s you, so it’s like a…pleasant sweat and dirt.”
“You’re a very strange individual.”
“I love it when you sweet-talk me.”
You shift against him, letting yourself sink against his body because he feels just too good wrapped around you for you to protest. “Will you take your wand out of your pocket? It’s poking me.”
“I don’t have my wand. That’s something else.”
“Oh God—”
“I’m teasing!” He chuckles. “It’s my deluminator.” He slips the strange contraption from his pocket and flicks it open, a soft glow emitting from the tip. He tucks it away and wraps himself back around you.
“Come on, do you think me some kind of pervert? I’ve been picturing Leander in a bathing suit the moment you came in.”
You snort. “Oh, so that’s why you have an erection,” You tease. “And here I was thinking you were just happy to see me.”
“Hilarious.”
He shifts you against him, rearranging you how he pleases in the tight space of the sleeping bag so your face is pressed against his chest. He tucks a leg between yours, entangling your limbs as if he’d find any ounce of personal space an offense. He sighs contentedly at the feeling of your warm breath against his skin, squeezing you even tighter.
“Do you have to manhandle me like this?” You grumble, though make no efforts to move out of position. It is admittedly a little nice to be his plush toy for a night, to feel his strong arms wrapped around you, his chin resting on top of your head. Okay, screw it, it’s actually insanely nice.
“Be less easy to manhandle then.”
—
“Are they dead?”
“Dunno, —uh, try poking one?”
You wake up with a startled gasp, sitting up and finding two third-years hovering over you in Quidditch uniforms, brooms in hand, and a mixture of curiosity and concern shrouding their expressions.
They both look startled when you wake, jumping back.
Garreth groans beside you as you shift, wrapping his arms around your waist and sleepily murmuring “Five more minutes,” with his face pressed against your stomach.
“Are you alright, miss?”
“Uh, fine,” You stammer. “How…how are you here?”
“What do you mean?”
“How’d you get here?”
They both look at you confused. “You realize Hogwarts is just about a hundred meters that way, right?” One of the boys asks, perplexed. He nods his head towards the direction they likely came from. “We just came here to retrieve a stray Quaffle.”
“Oh, uh…yes.” Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Yes, I knew that.”
The boys just shrug before they hop back on their brooms, snickering to themselves as they make their way back to the Quidditch field.
Garreth hasn’t stirred a muscle during the entire interaction, blissfully asleep beside you. You sigh when he sleepily pulls you back down and into his arms, tucking you against his chest.
Omg i just read "wrapped around your finger" and JDJLDKSKS it was so good 🤤🤤 could you maybe do a part 2 where tom asks mr and mrs Lestrange to marry her and they're completely baffled and tom is just wildly in love (smut is appreciated)
𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | tom riddle
tom riddle x f!muggle-born reader
7,072 words
warnings: smut, prejudice against muggle-borns.
notes: reader is hufflepuff, this can be read as its own imagine, but it is part two to this fic. i would suggest you read part one for more context.
summary: it’s been a few months since the lestranges’ famed christmas party. a month before graduation, tom riddle comes to a realization that you are what he wants. he doesn’t care about anything else, all he cares about is having you and how powerful you make him feel.
“Tom… we have… to get… to class,” she managed to say between kisses, his hand in her hair, the other resting on her hip. He kissed her deeper, taking the moment and stretching it out as far as he could until she tapped his shoulder, signaling that it was really time to go. He pulled away, his chest heaving as he panted, and he gazed down at the Hufflepuff girl he had pressed against the door of the broom closet.
His hand dropped to the nape of her neck and he could feel the heat as it crept up her skin as she straightened her robes, pressing her fingers to her lips where the phantom of his kiss still lingered. He didn’t move, only let his gaze linger on her before finally, she broke the silence that had since ensued.
“Tom… I have to get to Transfiguration…”
“Can I see you tonight?”
She blinked and stared up at his handsome dark eyes, still visible even in the dim broom closet. She shifted beneath her weight, “I don’t know, Tom. I have to study for my Potions…”
“Please.”
She knew she wouldn’t be able to resist when he used such a tone, and she mentally groaned, damning him for having such an effect on her. She sank her teeth into her bottom lip and nodded, swiping the hair on either side of her face behind her ear. He kissed her temple when she did, and he dropped his head so that his lips could ghost over the shell of her ear, shivers slithering like snakes down her spine.
“Meet me in the Astronomy Wing tonight.”
He began to back away and out of the closet, her hand in his all the way up until it naturally slipped out, and she smiled. “Alright,” she agreed, and he hummed in approval. “Excellent,” he said before turning to stride off down the long corridor, and she stepped out of the broom closet to watch until he disappeared around the corner, heat searing her cheeks.
She hugged her Transfiguration book to her chest as she touched her lips with her free hand, barely managing to contain her smile before she spun around on her heel and headed for the Transfiguration Courtyard. Clara Wingrave, a fellow Hufflepuff with brown skin and shoulder length, curly black hair joined her side as they approached the doors leading out to the courtyard, and she smiled at the girl.
Clara tilted her head as they stepped outside, the corner of her lips curving into an amused smirk. “You seem quite happy,” Clara said, and she flushed, brushing hair back behind her ear. “Do I?”
“Yes, you do.”
Clara looked around the courtyard as they strode through, making their way for the Transfiguration classroom. When she was sure nobody else was around to eavesdrop, she leaned into her friend’s shoulder, her lips close to her ear. “Who’s the boy?”
She blinked and stopped walking altogether, taken aback by what Clara had been asking. Clara giggled behind her hand as she turned to look back at her astonished friend. “Oh, come on. Why are you acting so surprised?” Clara asked, and her friend shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean by boy,” she replied, hugging her books tighter as she began to walk again, but Clara still stuck to her side, teasingly prodding her finger against her shoulder.
“Don’t act coy. I know love when I see it,” Clara chuckled as they entered the Transfiguration classroom where most of the class already was, and they took their seats beside each other. Clara leaned in closer as they set the things down, and she furrowed her brows as she gazed at her friend. Clara grinned, “you’re in love.”
Scarlet embarrassment burned her skin and she crossed her arms on the desk in front of her, hiding her face between them. Clara laughed again as she turned to face her, eyebrows pinched. “Have I been that obvious?” She asked and Clara rolled her eyes, leaning in and putting a hand over the top of hers. “It concerns me that you don’t think you’ve been obvious,” Clara whispered and she groaned, resting on her elbows to hide her face in her hands.
Clara leaned back in her seat and laughed again, “so, who’s the lucky boy?” She asked again, and she peeled back her fingers to peek at her friend between them. Neither she or Tom had told anyone about their relationship, neither daring to risk outing themselves to her brother, mostly in fear that she’d be tormented to no end.
But she could trust Clara. She knew she wouldn’t dare spill her secret to anyone else, so she leaned in, cupping her hand around Clara’s ear, shielding her lips away from everyone else as she told her friend her secret. “Tom Riddle,” she murmured her lover’s name, and when she leaned back into her seat, Clara’s lips were ajar so wide her jaw may as well have been on the ground.
“You’re snogging the Head Boy?” Clara asked, perhaps a little too loudly for her comfort, so she swatted her friend’s shoulder, narrowing her eyes. “Don’t make me Obliviate you,” she warned, and Clara shook her head, her laugh coming out as more of a breath. “No, no I just…” she leaned back in her seat, tapping her fingers on the top of the desk. “Wow. I just wasn’t expecting that.”
She tilted her head, curious. “What’s that supposed to mean?” She inquired, and Clara shook her head again, moving her hair out of her face. “Nothing, it’s just…” she rolled her bottom lip around between her teeth, contemplating her words. “…he just doesn’t seem the type to… date, you know? I’m just surprised, is all.”
She hummed, nodding as she relaxed back into her seat. She could definitely agree with Clara there, she never imagined Tom going out with anyone before, much less to be the one he was seeing. She could only imagine how other people saw him, especially students who weren’t of Slytherin House, considering the people Tom was usually seen hanging around with didn’t have the brightest of reputations— her brother especially.
But she knew he wasn’t like her brother and his gang. Tom Riddle could never be like that.
“I thought so too but…” she trailed off as the Professor began her Transfiguration lesson, and she leaned into Clara’s side to whisper, “he surprised me too.”
And Tom always did.
Later that night, she tread carefully through the corridor leading to the Astronomy Wing, the sky bruised with a dark purple, slowly morphing into black above. She searched the hallway for Hogwarts’ Head Boy, painfully aware of how close to curfew it was. Unfortunately she was not a prefect, and she didn’t dare risk detention so close to the end of her last year.
She paced back and forth, searching for her lover and his dark head of hair, mentally cursing as she leaned back against the wall. She couldn’t see him anywhere, and although she knew it was unlike him to forget, but still, she couldn’t help her impatience.
It wasn’t until she felt a pair of hands grab her waist and tugged her back that she yelped, turning in the arms of her sudden captor to gaze into the dark eyes of Tom Riddle.
“Tom!” She squealed, pushing her fist against his chest, stumbling back when he removed his arms. “You scared the living daylight out of me!” Tom held her hand gently, his touch so light it felt barely there, and if it weren’t for his warmth, he may as well have been a ghost. He leaned down to press his lips to the top of her knuckles, all the while gazing up at her through hooded lids.
“Apologies,” he murmured against her skin, giving her hand a firm squeeze when he stood back up. “And I’m sorry I’ve kept you waiting. Ran into Professor Slughorn, you see.”
She pressed her lips together and hummed, stepping closer to where Tom stood with his back against the wall, slithering her arms around his middle. “I can only imagine what he’d want to talk to you about, Head Boy,” she tittered as she rested the side of her head against his chest, feeling the tension in her muscles unravel when he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, his lips on the crown of her head. “Hilarious,” he muttered, his kisses working down her face and to her lips, and he hummed against them before pulling away, taking her hand in his.
“I want to show you something,” he said, beginning to lead her down the hall and up one of the large, spiral staircases. She furrowed her brows when they reached the top and he led her down the corridor only to stop at the end, turning back around to face her.
“Where are we going?” She asked, curious when his eyes shone, even in the darkness of the castle. “Just trust me,” was all he said before he paced back and forth down the corridor, exactly three times. She watched him in bewilderment even as he turned to gaze over at her and gestured for her to come forth.
It was then that her eyes set upon the wall in front of him. She was certain there hadn’t been a door there before.
She blinked a few times, convincing herself that it must be her eyes that were tricking her. Tom released a breath that could pass as a laugh as he approached, grabbing her hand once more. “I don’t think anyone else in the castle knows about this room,” he murmured as he led her towards the door, and she watched as his opposite hand cradled the knob and twisted.
“This…” Tom said as she gazed around the room full of just… things. Things everywhere. Every type of thing imaginable. “…is the Room of Requirement.”
She raised an eyebrow over to him, glancing back into the room of things. “The Room of Requirement?” She murmured, admittedly skeptical. “And you think we’re the only ones in the castle who knows about it?”
“I’m certain,” he reassured, palm against the small of her back, his opposite closing the door behind them. “Way I see it, the other imbeciles at this school are much too ignorant to find this place.” She turned to glance at the door, eyebrows knit together. “But why wasn’t the door there before? What…” she shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
Tom approached and grabbed either of her shoulders, letting his palms soothe down the length of her arms all the way down to her wrists, and back up. She relaxed in his touch’s wake, but still remained curious, skeptical, even. “This place only shows up when you’re in need of it,” he murmured, leaning in until his lips were against the shell of her ear, his breath icy hot, frosting over her bones and making her body shudder. “Can you guess why I invited you here tonight?”
He leaned away to catch her eyes, and she felt all tension in her bones melt away when their gazes met. She pressed her lips together and drew near again, their faces so close their breaths were becoming one in the same. “I think I may have an idea…” she whispered, her glance fleeting between his irises and his lips.
And Tom couldn’t resist any longer.
His lips surged into hers, like two violent waves in the sea in the midst of a storm. His hands were everywhere from her waist, to her hips, to her thighs, back up her chest all the way to the sides of her neck, creeping up until they cradled her face. She whimpered against his lips when he pressed himself closer to her, feeling her center throb and ache for more of his touch.
“Tom,” she whispered when he pulled away for air, his fingers tangled in her hair as he backed her into the wall, his forehead falling against hers. Tom’s lips were back on hers in an instant, and she moaned when he pulled away, his thumbs swiping over her closed eyelids to coax her into opening them. And when she did, his dark eyes were staring right back, and she was quick to get lost, falling deeper and deeper into his void.
“You’ve no idea how much I think about you like this,” he whispered, “I can never stop thinking about you.”
And he kissed her again, this time with much more fervor, for Tom could never fully relate to her in words how he felt. But he could kiss her, and he could kiss her good. And when he kissed her like this, she was like water in his hands, free to be warped and manipulated in whichever way he pleased.
Tom loved this about her.
He loved how in control he felt when he had her like this, how he knew that she was totally and completely his. She could lose herself in him, and he knew it.
It drove him absolutely insane.
Her chest heaved when she panted as his kisses ventured down her jaw and to her throat, sucking dark marks into her skin. Her fingers clawed at the fabric of his robes when she gripped either of his shoulders, her knees wobbling and threatening to give out beneath her when his fingers curled around the hem of her skirt beneath her robes.
“I don’t…” she began, breathless as Tom’s kisses trailed back up to her face, finding her lips again. “…I don’t suppose the Room of Requirement believes we require a bed?” She managed to ask between toe-curling kisses, and Tom’s smile grew like a crescent against her lips. He gazed down at her, his eyelids hooded over his irises.
“I think we’ve managed quite well without beds, don’t you?”
She hadn’t much time to laugh before his lips were back on hers, his fingers working open her robes, letting them slide down her arms until they pooled in a black heap on the floor. Her shirt was the next to go, his kisses trailing down to the tops of her breasts as he worked the clasp of her bra, letting it, too, slip from her shoulders. Her hands were in his hair as he sucked marks onto either of her mounds of flesh, his fingers curled around the hem of her skirt, tugging it down her thighs until it dropped to her ankles, and she was quick to kick it away altogether.
One of his palms soothed down her waist, around the curve of her hip until it could snake its way between her thighs and she gasped when his fingers traced a line up and down her slit, her slick making his skin glisten. Her eyelids peeled open just in time to catch Tom’s dark, hooded stare, his pink lips pressed together as the tip of his forefinger prod against her pearl, her body quaking in his wake.
“What do you want?” He asked lowly, the tip of his nose touching the top of hers as he looked down at her. “Enlighten me.” She whimpered when he circled around her clit, her back arching off the wall, her chest heaving into his. “Tom,” she whined. “Stop being such a tease.”
He kissed his way back to her ear, his smirk evident against her skin. “Haven’t I told you I expect an answer when I ask you something?” He whispered coolly, ice frosting her skin at his words. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten? I thought you were better than that.”
She mewled when he applied just a little more pressure on her nub, her fingernails etched so deep in the fabric of his robes, she was sure to have torn through. “M’… m’sorry I… I just want you,” she managed to breathe out, his breath like fire as it fanned over the side of her neck. “I… I want you to… please,” she whimpered when he teased her entrance. “Just want you to fuck me.”
“Hmm,” he hummed, flattening his middle and forefinger down against her slit, rubbing up and down once again. Her chest heaved as she panted, tears falling down her cheeks like a river stream. Tom gazed at her now and could no longer help how his heart burned when he saw her like this, how it stuttered in his chest with the overwhelming feeling of desire.
It was then that Tom Riddle decided that he was going to marry this girl.
“That’s what you want?” He asked in a low murmur, removing his fingers from her sex, and she flushed when she caught a glimpse of how they glistened, even in the dimness of the room of things. She nodded, watching as he unfastened his robes, slipping the noir fabric down his shoulders, letting it join the sea of clothes on the floor. She watched his fingers as they unbuttoned every single button on his shirt, the way his veins showed through his flesh, and watched as he tugged the material off his torso.
There he was again. Tom Riddle was a beauty unlike any other, beautiful in his own, entrancing way. Tom was like wine, and the more she drank him in, the harder she found it harder to resist. She couldn’t, she realized, it was impossible to resist him when she knew he was utterly and completely hers. As she watched him tug his trousers down his legs, she felt her heart flutter in her chest.
She still couldn’t believe she could call him hers.
Tom’s hands were on her again and oh, she could feel his cock as it pressed against the inside of her thigh, and one of his hands slithered down to wrap around the back of it, lifting it up so he could have access. His other rested on her hip, his dark gaze surging back into hers, drawing her in, keeping her and holding her there. His lips were but a mere inch away from hers, and she fought the urge to kiss him again. Instead, she inhaled a shaky breath, waiting for him, letting him make his move.
She hissed when she felt the tip of his cock prod against her entrance and she felt herself throb, yearning for more of him. The hand that had been resting on her hip ascended to cradle the side of her face, the pad of his thumb soothing just underneath her eye. Her bottom lip trembled, the moment so tender she thought she’d melt to the floor and join the heap of clothes beneath their feet.
“I love you,” Tom said at last, and she blinked, feeling crystals of tears weighing heavy on her lashes. She was so lost in his irises now, venturing further into his ravines of darkness, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. All she saw was him, all she felt was him, her heart burned with him.
And he burned for her too.
Tom Riddle loved her.
One of her hands weaved through the dark hair on the back of his head, feeling his tendrils between her fingers, her breath shaky as she inhaled again. Her other hand rested on the side of his neck, his skin so warm, melting like wax into hers.
“Oh, Tom,” she sighed, her voice wet like her tears. She tugged him forward until his forehead was on hers, each breath she took one of his own. “I love you too.”
And she gasped when he pushed himself inside of her wet, throbbing heat, hissing between the crevices of his teeth at how good she felt. He’d taken her so many times since Christmas Eve in the Lestrange Manor, so many times that he’d honestly lost count. But still, he could never get enough of her or this feeling. He was drunk on it, intoxicated by her. He could no longer bring himself to fear it any longer, for this burning for her only made him feel stronger.
She threw her head back against the wall as Tom picked up his pace, his thrusts steady and even but hard and heavy all the same. She gripped his hair tight, so tight she felt a small worry in the back of her mind that she was hurting him. But Tom didn’t care. In fact, he thrived off of the bittersweet pain of her fingers tugging at his scalp and her nails etching crescent moons into the flesh of his shoulders. It only made him burn more, made him want her even more.
He was so deep now, his tip was hitting the spongy part so far inside of her with every single stroke of his hips, and she cried, her sobs permeating the Room of Requirement. Tom even resisted the urge to moan himself, considering no one would be walking in on them and she just felt so good. He gripped her thigh tighter as he lifted it up just a little higher to get a better angle, and her back arched off of the wall yet again, her erect nipples grazing his chest.
“Tom!” She shrieked at a particularly hard thrust, her fingers so deep in his skin now she was certain he’d bleed. She felt her walls clench around him and through pursed lips, Tom groaned, his eyelids fluttering closed as he relished this feeling of feeling so infinite. “I think I’m… oh, Tom… I think I’m close…”
Tom’s eyelids peeled open and with his hand not supporting her thigh, he gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her gaze back into his. “Is that right, darling?” He whispered, and she nodded, her teeth sunk into the pillowy flesh of her bottom lip. “Does it feel good?” He asked and she nodded, groaning at another especially hard thrust. “Oh, yes,” she moaned, cradling the back of his head closer to hers, their foreheads pressed up against one another again.
Tom felt his hips stutter and his member pulse when she clenched around him again, her heat so tight and warm he knew he was bound to break any moment now. His eyes remained fixated on hers, and every time she closed her lids or looked away, he was there to fix her gaze back onto his.
“I want you to look me in the eyes…” he began, thrusting harder and harder and harder, “…while you tell me how good I make you feel. Tell me how good you feel while you come.”
While her vision blurred with tears, she could still make out his dark eyes through watercolors, still feel the intensity of his stare without really even seeing it. Tom was so deep now, his cock coaxing her orgasm out of her, encouraging her to let go. She could feel the bundle of tension knot at the pit of her stomach, pulsing and begging to be unraveled.
She was like a glass wall shattering when she came.
She cried and gripped Tom tighter as she released, telling him how good he felt through incoherent blubbers, not sure if she was even really making any sense. “T… Tom!” She shrieked as her body shuddered and quaked against his, his hands the only things keeping her grounded. “You feel… so… it feels… can’t… I want… Tom!” She sobbed, his chest glistening with her tears as they dropped like rain on his skin.
Tom was rocking harder into her now, chasing his own high as he fucked her through hers, his eyes never once leaving her bleary ones. His head rolled against hers and his nose brushed against her own, but never once did he dare tear his gaze away from hers. There was something so intimate about staring so deep into his lover’s eyes in their most vulnerable moments, so mesmerizing about losing one’s self in another’s irises. He felt so powerful when he looked at her, so in control and in his element.
Even when he came, Tom still felt the strongest he’d ever been.
Tom still remained inside of her even as they both came down from the force of their highs, their hearts beating to the same drum against one another. Tom held her close to his chest, craving the warmth her body produced, yearning for the touch of her skin. She hummed at the feeling of his fingertips absentmindedly tracing shapes into the small of her back, her lips curved into a smile as she lifted her head from his shoulder to peer up at him.
For a moment, neither said anything, only looked at one another. But their gazes held every unspoken word, their gazes held understanding, their gazes held love.
Tom never anticipated falling in love. He never felt it was a priority or a necessity, never thought it was in the cards for him anyways. He didn’t think it was necessary on his road to power, in fact, he used to think love was but a mere obstacle, something to blind him, to throw him in for a loop.
But love like this was none of those things.
As a child, Tom could never imagine that love could be so powerful. But when he found her that Christmas Eve and held her and had her, he felt infinite. He felt like the most powerful being in the universe, like she was the missing piece of his puzzle. And he had found her.
Tom couldn’t give a damn what Tiernan Lestrange or Clarence Avery or Liam Mulciber or the others would think of her. He couldn’t even care about her muggle-born status, he couldn’t care about any of those things. There wasn’t much that Tom cared about other than himself in this world, but he cared about her.
And that was all he needed. Himself and the girl in his arms.
It was not even a month later that they graduated Hogwarts, and Tom wasn’t sure how to feel. For seven years, Tom had known he belonged somewhere, and for seven years, he had a home. Hogwarts was in fact the only home he’d ever had.
But now that he was older, Hogwarts would no longer be his home. He resented that.
He knew he would stop at nothing to get the job he so desperately desired, the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and he knew Professor Dippet would be a fool to turn down the best Defense Against the Dark Arts student Hogwarts had ever seen in all his years. But where would he go if the Headmaster was foolish enough to turn him down? He couldn’t stay at the orphanage, and he hadn’t any money to buy himself a home.
Although Tiernan and the others all celebrated and laughed all around him, Tom couldn’t bring himself to do either of those things. Instead, he searched through the sea of bow graduated Hogwarts students, past the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors until his eyes set upon the particular Hufflepuff he always found solace in.
And found that she was already staring back.
She smiled when their eyes met, and although Clara Wingrave’s arm was wrapped around hers, tugging her back to celebrate with the other Hufflepuffs, she couldn’t bring herself to tear her eyes away from the former Head Boy across the room.
Because she, too, could only find solace in him now.
She had no home, the Lestrange Manor was never a home to her, and now that she had graduated from Hogwarts, she hadn’t anywhere else to go. Hogwarts was her only home, the only place she knew she truly belonged. Where would she go now?
But when she found Tom Riddle all the way across the Great Hall, when she met his dark and intense stare, she knew she still had a home somewhere. Her home was Tom Riddle.
And just like the first day she saw him, sitting on the stool at the front of the Great Hall, waiting to be sorted into his House, she knew that wherever Tom Riddle was, was where she wanted to be.
“My father’s already got a job lined up for me at the Ministry,” Clarence Avery was saying to Tom and the rest of their friend group as they packed their things in the Slytherin dorm. Tom had very few belongings, far less than the others, but he still took his time packing them. It was still bittersweet, leaving Hogwarts. “Mine too,” Dolohov was saying as he heaved his briefcase off his bed, sighing down at the mattress that had been his all year. “You know, I have to say, I’ll miss getting a good night’s sleep on a Hogwarts bed.”
The others talked and talked but Tom Riddle was listening to none of it. His mind was still on the future, and on his lover. He had meant it, all the way back in the Room of Requirement when he thought he wanted to marry her. He wanted to marry her. He would marry her.
Perhaps they could build a home of their own together once he became the Dark Arts professor and she, whatever job she desired. Perhaps she’d support his dream to become the most powerful wizard of all, maybe they could even have their own little family, perhaps a son and a daughter to continue Salazar Slytherin’s bloodline.
The future remained unknown, but only one thing was for certain. Tom Riddle was going to whisk that girl away, away from the Lestranges and give her the life she deserved. Perhaps there would be a happy ending for them after all.
“What about you, my Lord?” Tiernan Lestrange asked as he gripped the handle of his briefcase. Tom turned to look at the group of boys now turned men behind him, realizing he was the only one unfinished with their packing. Calmly, he gathered the rest of his things and placed them nearly in his briefcase, letting the locks snap shut before gripping the handle and heaving it off the bed.
Tom turned to face them, his face expressionless, void of any emotion, the face they had all grown accustomed to. “I’m going to apply for the Defense Against the Dark Arts job,” he replied, sauntering past them and exiting the dorm room for the last time, the rest scurrying to follow close behind. “Of course,” Liam Mulciber hummed. “Dippet would be foolish to turn you down, my Lord.”
“Yeah. You are the best student Hogwarts has had in years, perhaps ever,” Rosier agreed, and Tom said nothing more as they made their way out of the Slytherin common room, out of the Dungeons, up the Grand Staircase and out of the castle.
Tom searched through the crowd for his lover as they made their way to Hogsmeade Station, coming to no avail. Tom tried to not show his disappointment as he waited along with the rest of Hogwarts’ students for the train to arrive, Lestrange and the others laughing and pushing each other around.
“So, what’s the mudblood going to do now that she can’t pretend to be one of us at Hogwarts?” Tom could hear Nott ask, and he turned his head immediately as Lestrange snickered, shrugging his shoulders. “Dunno. Personally, I hope mother and father throw her out on the street,” Lestrange sniggered. “Now, that’d be very full circle. Wasn’t wanted then by filthy muggles, isn’t wanted now.”
Tom never tried to show his anger unless it be in private, and Lestrange and the others had grown used to seeing their Lord rage in private, although they still trembled at the idea of it. But it was unlike him to show it around others, in fact, in all his time at Hogwarts, Tom never once showed emotion to this extent around anyone else.
So when he towered over Lestrange and grabbed the collar of his shirt, the boys jumped back, the hair on the back of their necks sticking straight up. Tiernan Lestrange’s eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets as heads turned their way, students gasping at this strange display of anger from Hogwarts’ former Head Boy.
“I do not want to hear you speak of her that way ever again,” Tom warned lowly. “Or it’ll be your head. Is that understood?”
Tiernan Lestrange was trembling in Tom’s grasp, and all he wanted to do was shrivel up into a ball and wither away beneath his Lord’s dark, intense stare. His lips fell open with the intent of speaking but nothing could come out, so instead he nodded excessively, his bottom lip trembling. Tom held his collar for a few moments longer before shoving the boy away, turning back to face the tracks as the train approached, picking his briefcase up from the ground.
“Good,” he muttered as the train doors opened, and he stepped inside, the others following close behind, Tiernan Lestrange hanging back, trying to catch his breath.
She could see her adopted brother from across the station, her eyes wide as Tom stepped on the train, leaving Tiernan to catch his breath alone. She’d never seen Tom do such a thing before, and although she certainly was not mad that her “brother” had been put in his place, she couldn’t help but wonder what it was that had provoked her lover.
Her mind was thrown off its course as she heard her name being called, and she turned to face Clara Wingrave as she elbowed her. “Come on!” Clara tugged at the sleeve of her friend’s dress. “Don’t want to miss the train now, do we?”
She smiled weakly at Clara. She would, in fact, not mind if the train forgot her.
She complied though, grabbing her suitcase and heaving it up the steps into the train, handing it to the conductor before following Clara down the walkway and into one of the compartments.
She sighed as she settled herself down into her seat, gazing out the window at Hogsmeade Station. She hoped this would not be the last she’d see of Hogwarts or Hogsmeade.
Her future was uncertain, she had no idea what the Lestranges would do with her when she got back. Perhaps they’d make her a maid, or perhaps they’d kick her out of the manor altogether.
She wasn’t sure which she preferred more.
Her mind drifted to Tom, what his plans were for after Hogwarts. She knew he desired the Defense Against the Dark Arts job, and there was no doubt in her mind that he’d get it. But what about her? What could she, a muggle-born with no money, do? She had nowhere to go, no home to go back to…
…all she knew was that she couldn’t go back to living like a pile of rubbish with the Lestranges.
She found herself longing to know what Tom was thinking, if the future he had planned for himself had her in it. She hoped it did, because she wanted him. She wanted him to be her future.
“Hey, did you hear what I said?”
She blinked up at Clara, her expression softening in apology as she shook her head. Clara pressed her lips together, brushing her curly hair back behind her ears before folding her arms over her chest, leaning back in her seat. “Perhaps you should get some sleep,” she said. “It seems you need it.”
She knew her friend was right, but still, she frowned in apology as she leaned her head against the wall of the train, her eyelids feeling heavy over her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she said and Clara shook her head, a soft smile on her lips. “No need. I’ll wake you up when we arrive at King’s Cross.”
When they arrived at King’s Cross station, Tom was one of the first to leave the train. He turned back towards the train as he watched the students leaving all of the exits, uncaring when his group joined him at his side as he searched for the girl. He couldn’t even bring himself to care when Mr and Mrs Lestrange approached, greeting Tiernan and the others before greeting Tom.
“Tom, my boy!” Mr Lestrange bellowed as he clasped a hand around Tom’s shoulder, giving him a firm shake. “How nice it is to see you!” Tom turned to give the Lestranges a small friendly smile and nod, turning back towards the train. “It’s a pleasure to see you too, sir,” he said, distracted.
“You know, you’re welcome to stay with us over the summer,” Mrs Lestrange said, wrapping an arm around Tom’s shoulders, giving him a squeeze. “I’m sure my husband can arrange a job for you at the Ministry, if you’d like.”
Tom still searched the exits, longing for even a glimpse of his lover. His heart was pounding, all he wanted right now was her.
“Certainly!” Mr Lestrange exclaimed. “Way I see it, the Ministry would be lucky to have someone like you on board.”
Tom was suffocating. Where was she?
“Tom?” Mrs Lestrange asked, circling around to stand before him, cupping either of his cheeks. Mr Lestrange joined her at her side, eyeing him up and down in concern. “Are you alright, son?” He asked. “You seem a bit ill.”
What Tom wanted to say was on the tip of this tongue, and he could no longer hold it all back, letting the words slip out of him like vomit.
“Can I marry your daughter?”
To say the Lestranges were surprised would be the understatement of the century. Mrs Lestrange gasped and removed her hands from his face, grasping the scarf around her neck instead. He could see Tiernan and the others out of the corner of his eye as they gaped at their Lord, but were unable to protest or speak against him.
Not after what he did to Lestrange back at Hogsmeade Station.
“What? I…” Mrs Lestrange was struggling to find words, to even form a coherent thought. “I’m sure that there are… other more suitable girls other than my… my…”
It was then that Tom saw her, his lover, step out of the train in a simple teal dress, cinched at the waist by a brown ribbon. Tom’s expression softened at the sight of her, and her eyes found his, her heart pounding when she noticed her adopted mother and father standing beside him, incredulous looks upon their faces. Tiernan and the rest of his friends were there too, sharing uncertain gazes with one another.
Despite all this, Tom reached out for her, and she gazed at him, hesitant. They had kept their relationship a secret thus far, and were they really about to expose themselves in front of the Lestranges?
But Tom gazed deeper into her eyes, and for the first time, she felt like he was pleading with her, pleading with her to take his hand. So she did.
Her shaking hand slipped into his and he clasped his fingers around hers, tight and warm. He helped her down the rest of the steps of the train, guiding her into his side as he stared up at the Lestranges, the Mother and the Father’s faces lips agape.
She didn’t dare look at them any longer.
“I want to marry her,” Tom said again, and she tensed at his side, feeling her heart stop for a moment. This was why the Lestranges look as though they’d been to Azkaban and back? She glimpsed up at Tom and when he looked down at her, she knew he seemed the most sincere he’d ever been.
He wanted to marry her. He wanted her to be a part of his future.
She felt like she’d burst into tears any moment now. Her bottom lip quivered the longer she looked at him and through her watery gaze, her lips curved into a smile. Tom let his gaze linger on hers for a moment longer before turning back to Mr and Mrs Lestrange.
“Son…” Mr Lestrange began, staring uncertainly between Tom and his adopted daughter. “…I’m afraid she hasn’t been entirely honest with you. She’s… you see… she’s a mu—“
“I understand perfectly well who she is,” Tom interrupted, his voice cold, his stare blank but intense. Mr Lestrange blinked, for once at a loss for words. “And I do not care what you think of her.”
Mrs Lestrange scoffed, a hand over her chest. “Tom, do you not see? She’s a mudblood, she’s filthy!” She exclaimed, gesturing towards the girl. “I’m afraid I cannot let you ruin your bloodline for this… for this…”
“Don’t you dare speak about her that way,” Tom warned in a low voice, and behind him, Tiernan Lestrange trembled, very well remembering the way his Lord spoke to him back at Hogsmeade Station. “I think I can determine who is filthy and who is not very well.”
Mr Lestrange’s glare hardened as he took a step forward in front of his wife, staring at Tom. “Do not dare speak to my wife like that,” he warned, pointing an accusatory finger in his face. “This is the mudblood’s doing, isn’t it?” He asked, his finger now pointing at her. She gripped Tom’s arm tighter, and Tom stood up straighter, clear that he wasn’t backing down. “This… this behavior of yours… it’s because of her, isn’t it? Because that’s all mudbloods are good for, ruining perfectly good—“
“I would watch your tongue if I were you, Mr Lestrange,” Tom warned, his voice low and menacing. She swore that even the Father shuddered where he stood at Tom’s tone. “You don’t know what kind of people may be listening. You don’t know what some people are capable of.”
Mr Lestrange blinked as Tom gazed down at the girl on his arm, feeling his heart burn brighter than it ever had before. “I’m going to marry her,” Tom announced again, no longer a question, no longer asking. She could feel tears stream down her cheeks.
She was leaving. She would never have to even step foot inside the Lestrange Manor again. Tom Riddle was her ticket to a better life, and she knew it.
Tom turned to gaze at Mr and Mrs Lestrange again, a small knowing smile creeping onto his lips that made them tremble.
“And you’d do well to remember this day when you are bowing down at my feet, begging me for my mercy.”
a/n; IM SO SORRY I TOOK FOREVER TO WRITE THIS i was having a bit of writers block but i got coffee this morning and it made me want to write lol hope you all enjoy this one! i don’t like it as much as part one but hey, i finished it at least lol
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