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aliciajamess · 4 years

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His Shallow Weakness (Tom Riddle x OC)

Summary: Tom Riddle was charming and kind, so encouraging and persuasive. He liked to delve deep into each person’s thoughts and emotions. That was his main goal. But what if there’s that one girl who had nothing different about her, nothing special, no depth? Nothing for him to know?

Pairing: Tom Riddle x OC

Genre: Horror, Romance

“How are you?” Tom greeted one of the fellow Gryffindor girls in Hogwarts who passed by him down the hallway. He gave them a blossoming smile that erupted butterflies in their stomachs, causing them to giggle and blush furiously.

“We’re good, Tom,” said the raven-haired girl, pointing next to who he could only assume was her best friend. “Which class are you headed to?”

“Potions, actually,” he responded. “Do you like potions?”

Both girls nodded intensely. “Oh! It’s our favourite!”

“That’s good,” he said, nodding his head with a clean smile.

“Are we keeping you? We apologize,” hurried the strawberry blonde girl beside her with a bow.

Tom shook his head and held his hand out to humble them. “Not at all, it’s absolutely alright. But we must get going then.”

The girls nodded and went skipping ahead, gushing about the perfectly angled jawline that belonged to Tom. Tom smiled at his friends, Tiernan and Avery, who nodded at him to continue walking to his class. Even though Tom’s potions class was all the way at the other end of school from the other two’s Transfiguration’s class, they still remained adamant to walk him there. They so badly wanted his approval.

“Why don’t you boys get going to your classes instead of mine?” he ushered softly, trying not to make it seem like they’re being forced. They had to want to earn his validation.

Avery and Tiernan shook their heads vigorously. “No need, Tom! We’ll walk you!” said Tiernan Lestrange.

“Very well,” shrugged Tom.

They proceeded to walk down the hallway, entering the potion’s tower that was taught by the head of their house - Horace Slughorn. He was Tom’s favourite teacher, mainly because he’d gotten most of Hogwarts’ secrets from him. And he continued to get on his professor’s good side for more information. That was what this was all about.

Until, he saw her again. His heart stopped beating for a fraction of a second. He paused from walking strangely and his other two friends gave each other a weird look. Tom immediately became anxious and frustrated like he’d never been. His mind scattered around trying to find a reason for his unusual infatuation for the tall and glamorous blonde.

What was it about her? No doubt, she was from a genetically-blessed, noble and notorious, well-respected pure-blood family who knew and understood Salazar Slytherin’s values. She was also the owner of one of the possibly best hair’s of the century. Her pale yet slightly bronzed complexion certainly brought out the basic blue in her eyes. And she was blessedly taller than the rest of the girls in Hogwarts, making it easy for her to turn heads around school.

But that was all there is to her. Physical appearance; beauty that Tom would never deny in a hundred years. Other than that, she was as bland as an apple. Her life was as simple as following her parents’ lessons and just plain having her prettiness be her main personality. There was nothing different about her but her face. And yet, Tom was inevitably drawn onto her. And it pissed him off to feel so superficial.

He prided himself in mastering how to psychoanalyze every single person he’d encountered. Professor Dumbledore was wary from the death of his sister, and blamed himself terribly because of it. Avery and Lestrange had major family neglect issues that only made them want to strive for someone more powerful than they were’s approval. And all Slughorn cared about was that Slytherins cared about wanting to be in the Slug Club - since that was the only way he was sure that people still respected him.

It wasn’t that hard to figure out people’s strengths and weaknesses and find his way around them. But this girl, this girl, had none. He didn’t know how to act around her. Everybody else had a story, but her. So what was it about her then?

“Tom!” she cheered pleasantly.

In return, Tom gave her a smile. “Juliet,” he muttered her name like it was addictive poison.

“Are you headed for potions?” she asked, her eyes glimmering so enticingly that it made him weak in the knees.

“Yes, of course, can’t be late to that,” he said with the tilt of his head. “What about you? Aren’t you going?”

“Yes,” said Juliet. “I was just on the look for you since it was written on the board that we’re partners.”

God forbid that I would sleep restfully tonight, Tom thought miserably, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to get her out of his head later that night, once again.

“Well, here I am,” he said. He turned to his two mates and nodded at them to go to their respective classes and leave him with Juliet.

He walked a little bit to the front and waited for Juliet to turn to the same direction as him, walking side by side to the potions classroom.

“You’re a bit late today, you’re usually very early,” she pointed out.

And Tom was happy, to say the least. Juliet noticed what time he would go into class. Juliet notices him.

“Right. I got caught up talking to Reeva and Eloise on the way.”

She nodded, evidently not that interested in what he was going to say. Like she only asked to start a conversation.

“So did the professor start on the instructions?” asked Tom.

“Not yet. He really wanted to wait for you,” she giggled.

Tom chuckled himself. He loved being Slughorn’s personal favourite. “Well, then it must be a good project.”

They entered the classroom and took a seat on the very front row where Slughorn had seated both of them, being his favourites. Slughorn shed a blind eye to Tom’s tardiness and then started his class.

“Today, we’re going to be making Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion. Just like we talked about yesterday, its purpose is to tame unruly hair to your wishes. Since I notice that there aren’t any gingers in this class, all of you shall proceed with the making. You will test it out on your own hair later in your own time, report a lab with a conclusion, and it is all due tomorrow. Get along now.”

Tom couldn’t help but fantasize of how he would take two drops of the potion, rub it in between his fingers and palms before running it through Juliet’s golden locks. It looked so smooth and carefree, he could barely resist the urge to just graze his fingers through it purposely accidentally.

But he remained where he sat. He waited for her to make the first move and talk about the project with him. Just to see if she was really interested in initiating a little something with him. So he picked up the Asian Dragon hair that lay on their shared table and looked at her patiently.

“So do you know how to do this?” she asked innocently. “I don’t think I remembered the instructions from yesterday.”

And then he remembered that Juliet wasn’t the brightest bulb around here. She gets Acceptable and Poor, and even at times, Dreadful, on most of her subjects. Don’t ask Tom how he knew this, just know that Juliet has never gotten anything more than Acceptable in any of her subjects. It was one of the things that revolted Tom about Juliet; she didn’t care.

He was normally more intrigued by people who showed interests in their studies and passions. Juliet, however, had none. It seemed that she completely depended on her family name - the Voilette’s - to help her to exceed. Or maybe even her looks that would awe the professors. Though none of the things she does would clearly imply that. She was a mystery box that really held nothing inside. How was that even possible.

Tom stiffened his jaw but still forced himself to smile politely. “Yes, I do. I’ll help you, don’t fret. Just add the hairs on the pot like so.”

Juliet watched blankly as Tom added on ingredients and stirred the pot thoroughly. She was neither bored nor excited. After a few minutes of the mixture blending in, Tom stopped stirring and studied the potion.

“Could you pass me the flask?” he asked.

“Sure,” she mumbled, grabbing one out of the three flasks in front of her and handed it to Tom’s awaiting hands. “Is it done?”

“Yes. Would you like for the experiment to be done on you?” He inwardly was wishing for Merlin to make Juliet agree, just so Tom could have the permission to feel her hair and possibly grab one strand and make a love potion out of it.

She didn’t think anything of it and shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

Tom smiled cheekily. “Perfect. We’ll meet after school at the library and test it out then, yes?”

She hummed in approval as she leaned on the table and tried to take a whiff of the green liquid. And Tom watched her do so, he almost didn’t care that he literally looked creepy. Not that Juliet would’ve noticed. And everybody else was too absorbed in their own tasks to notice.

“Is that peppermint?” she asked him genuinely.

Tom furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “I-It’s Dragon hair...”

After class, Juliet packed up and merely waved at him goodbye, but not without flashing him her usual I’m-Too-Good-Not-To-Show-Off-My-Smile smile. Tom wondered if he was inching closer into psychoanalyzing her by just her smile.

But professor Slughorn’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Riddle,” he called.

Tom looked and moved over to his professor diligently. “Yes, professor?”

“I’ve noticed that you were the only who was doing the work in the project. Is there any problem in there?” he asked.

Tom shook his head. “Not at all. But professor, if I might ask, would you tell me what made you choose.. Juliet Voilette to be the first student in the Slug Club?”

Slughorn was evidently astonished by his question and placed a hand on his beer gut as he laughed foolishly. “My dear boy, Juliet was the reason I had made the club in the first place.”

“What does that mean?” asked Tom.

Slughorn stumbled over his words hesitantly. “Well, I can’t particularly put a finger on that. I mean, Jules has always been sort of a question mark in the sense that she’s not... the most hard-working student — ”

Tom raised his eyebrows at his superior suggestively.

Slughorn nodded and rolled his eyes. “Oh, be it. Jules doesn’t work hard at all. Truth is, I question myself daily why on earth she was sorted under Slytherin. But the reason I made Slug Club was because I thought that if she was surrounded by people who were ambitious, she would then be influenced by them.”

Slughorn sighed and took a seat behind his desk. “But obviously, she’s not trying one bit. She comes and takes a seat, drink tea and eats as if she owned the place. But there is something about Jules that I have noticed...”

Tom took note of how Slughorn had created Juliet her own nickname; Jules. It was cute and whatnot, but he’d originally had no idea they were that close.

“She works half as hard as everybody else, and yet, she would end up getting the same results, if not better. Of course, this isn’t grades-wise. Merlin knows,” he groaned as he delved his hand into one the drawers in his desk and pulled out a handful of magazines.

“She had been voted Witch Weekly’s top Most Beautiful Witch of 1943 last year. And the year before that, she’d won the Most Outstanding Walk Award. Once, she was even on The Quibbler under the conspiracy theory of using a self-beauty spell on herself in an attempt to become more beautiful. She was on the Daily Prophet in 1939 simply for buying a red dress at Madame Malkin, the following day, countless of witches wore the exact same dress. Obviously, I couldn’t let her A-list status go to waste.”

Slughorn seemed disappointed with himself for only caring about his student’s reputation by the way he slapped his palms onto his forehead tiredly. But Tom understood how he felt. Completely.

“Thank you for telling me that, professor,” said Tom with a courteous bow. “I’ll be on my way now.”

Slughorn only nodded at his most prized student and dwelled in his own thoughts precariously. Tom felt weak and disheartened as he came to a realization that he and Slughorn were facing the same issues regarding Juliet. She was a tough yet empty shell to crack. There was no point. And yet, it only made Tom want to try harder.

He barely listened to any of his classes, his mind clouded with the things that could happen later in the library where they would meet. He was going to take advantage of that time and get her to open up, just to give him some peace of mind. Even if it was as small as knowing the things that frustrate her, it would do.

He shouldn’t be liking her at all - or would he even want to call it liking? It seemed like such a muggle emotion. Not even just muggle, it’s a common feeling that everybody gets from time to time. Was he now just like everybody else?

As soon as his last class had ended, he stomped toward the library heavier than ever. But on the outside, he kept his chivalry and polite practices on for show. That was the only thing he felt he could control for now. He held the library door open for one of the girls behind him and stepped aside for them to enter. He waited right on the entrance, looking over the window occasionally in search for a particular pretty blonde.

He tapped his foot impatiently. Where was she? She was about... He checked the pocket watch from the insides of his robe and grunted. 57 seconds late.

The librarian looked over at his hunched back and waited for his word that he was doing just fine. He nodded at her reassuringly and painfully smiled at her. Now people were noticing that he was obviously detered. Only Juliet’s appearance could save that now. Oh, how pathetic he felt. Needing somebody else to make him sane?

“Tom!” Juliet’s voice from outside of the library door greeted happily. Tom resisted the urge to pull her in and just slap her for causing a nuisance in himself. He opened the door for her, knowing she would be waiting for it. “Hey, so where are we doing the thing?”

The thing? He thought irritably. That thing happens to be the thing that determines my grades and achievements.

“Probably somewhere private and quiet,” he directed.

He held his hands to his right signalling her to go first and she did. He watched her walk, her hair dangling in layers, enhancing her soft blow-out. It had a natural highlight of darker and lighter shades of caramel and sunflower blonde. He was so mesmerized by it that he felt this tingling feeling in himself that wanted to braid her hair like a poet would say.

She led him to some of the dimmer parts of the library. It was a small corner surrounded by shelves and only a small and round table in there. Completely isolated from the rest of crowd. He felt much more comfortable in here, much more confident.

Juliet set a single book down on the table and took a seat, Tom did the same and sat across from her. He had her all to himself now. And so he stared at her sharply, intensely, trying to get a look of her light blue eyes and see through them, read the details in them.

Juliet blinked a few times when she noticed this. “Uhm, are we gonna start?” she asked.

Tom fixed his composure and cleared his throat. “Yes. Do you happen to have a hairbrush?”

Juliet laughed lightly. “It’s, like, all I carry around me all the time!”

She pulled out a shiny pink hairbrush that somehow held an expensive aura to it and held it over to him, he gladly took it. She then positioned her chair around and dangled her hair over the back of it, swaying it swiftly at Tom’s face. His head followed the movements of her hair hypnotically.

He couldn’t help it. He just had to take some time to simply look at her hair, study the details, take a mental picture and force it into his dreams later than night. It was beautiful.

“Tom?” she interrupted his thoughts. “Are we starting?”

By the sound of her voice, she was starting to feel uncomfortable. She must be able to feel his stare without even seeing it. So he took the cap off of the flask and dropped a few droplets of the potion on his left hand. He places the flask down on the table and rubbed his hands together, and then he fulfilled his dreams.

He touched her hair. He ran his fingers through her tresses and never wanted to leave them again. It brought him immense pleasure just to touch them, play with them, twirl them around his fingers, fix the knots, flick them. A slight smile formed on his face, he felt that he was in a power position right now. And Juliet had no idea that she was being so submissive like he wanted her to be.

Minutes and minutes had passed. He still hadn’t gotten enough of it. That was until a sigh escape from Juliet’s lips followed by her tapping her slim and dainty fingers over her exposed lap due to her short skirt that she’d overgrown throughout the years.

What a whore, said Tom at the back of his head. He was convinced that she knew exactly what she was doing.

She clicked her black stilettos together and fidgeted around. She was silently telling him to lay off of her hair and Tom unwillingly obeyed her wishes.

“Alright then, that’s it,” he announced. And Juliet let out a short gasp, acting like she didn’t see that one coming.

Her hair was different now. Instead of the curled blow-out it was in before, it was sleek straight, giving her a more sophisticated and posh look instead of the warm sunshine look she usually had. He didn’t know if he liked this look better on her. But he certainly was not complaining.

“Well it worked!” she cheered playfully.

“That it did. So let’s work on the report now,” he suggested, taking a pen and paper out as she did the same thing.

Tom scribbled everything down on his paper speedily, like drawing the back of his hand. He knew everything he had to say to get an Oustanding mark. Time went by prety fast for him on that note. However, he noticed that Juliet barely had anything written down - that was actually related to their potions assignment. She mostly just doodled different types of heels on the edges of the paper, probably thinking that Tom was going to carry her in this partner work.

Tom had no problem with that. If she wasn’t working on their assignment, then she could work on giving him some answers to his own questions.

“So,” he began. “Have your parents written to you at all this year?”

This was his attempt of getting some background information about her parents. Maybe know if their were neglectful which resulted in her superficially attention-seeking and careless ways. Or if they were too strict, resulting in her complexity - or lack thereof.

“Yeah,” she nodded positively.

“Did you write back?”

“Yeah,” she smiled.

“Are you spending the holidays with them then?”

“I think. I don’t know yet. ‘Haven’t really given that some thought.”

“Would there be any reason that you wouldn’t want to spend the holidays with your own parents?”

Fuck, Tom thought. That was too forward.

Juliet looked at him awkwardly, caught off-guard by his question. “I-I don’t really know?”

But Tom proceeded with pushing these questions on her. He needed something. Anything.

“Did they ever do anything that affected your life gravely?”

Juliet’s eyes blinked before slowly rolling down to her paper, which she was now starting to scramble up like garbage. “Uhm, no? I hope not? But I-I think I’m gonna go.”

She grabbed her book and stood up to walk away. But Tom shot up instinctively. He grabbed her hand and twirled her around, lightly yet powerfully pushing her onto the bookshelves. He placed both of his hands beside her head and looked into her eyes with animosity.

Juliet was terrified.

“T-Tom? What are you doing?”

“Tell me something,” he muttered. “Anything. What are you thinking?”

Juliet’s breathing was unsteady as she felt trapped and forced to speak up. His stare made her feel so small. “I-I’m thinking.. why are you doing this?”

“It’s not enough.” Tom shook his head.

“What isn’t?” she asked.

But he ignored her and kept mumbling inaudibly. “It’s not enough... What are your greatest fears?”

She thought long and hard on this. She was never in the position to ever have to answer a question such as this. But ask her her favourite shade of lipstick and she’d spill in a heartbeat.

“I-I don’t really — ”

“ — know. Of course. What do you know? You have no idea what the value of Pi is, 67 squared, 147 cubed, what 1.77245 means. What do you know?” he repeated, only frustrating himself even more.

“Why are you asking me this?” she asked.

“Why don’t you try at school? Your grades are Acceptable at best. Your IQ would most likely be a solid 100. Do you think that you’re going to get special treatment for being Juliet Voilette? Is this a superiority complex?”

His hands remained solid on either side of her, he was now closing in the space between their heads. He felt the need to get even closer to her. Physically, emotionally and mentally. He was all about Juliet now.

Juliet didn’t know if she should even answer this. She didn’t know if he wanted a genuine answer or if he just wanted to tell her his questions and stare at her face.

“I-I can’t say...” she cautiously said.

“What does that mean?”

“I’m not quite sure myself,” she answered.

“What are you sure of?” he asked.

“That I’m scared right now.”

“Why’s that?” He narrowed his eyes.

“You’re scaring me.”

“Am I really?”

“You’re being different. You’re not usually like this. And I’m afraid. That’s what I know.”

“Really? What am I usually like?”

“Nice. Smart. Friendly. Grounded.”

“And now?”

“Creepy. Dark. Pushy.”

He smirked at her answers. “All I’m gathering from this is that you have zero emotional depth. Creepy, dark and pushy? Can you be more like every other girl?” he scoffed.

“I never pretended to be different.”

Bingo.

That was what was different about her. She never denied being who she was. She had the personality of a wall, and she knew it, and fully accepted it. Whereas other girls would’ve tried to force the idea that they were unique and different. Juliet was perfectly comfortable being the way she was.

But there was one thing.

“You’re a Voilette,” he pointed out. “Rich, famous. You were in Witch Weekly countless of times. Daily Prophet, too. Do you think that you’re better than everyone else because of that?”

He begged to know. He was just one step closer into cracking her case, he felt.

“I didn’t do anything to be in there. It just happened.”

True. Her achievements were nothing short of coincidence. Meanwhile, Tom worked for every single thing he has today - his intelligence, his followers, and his reputation. If anything, Juliet was only thriving off of pure luck. It was utterly pathetic. But she never said she didn’t do exactly just that. And he felt even more attracted toward her because of it.

“Does that do it for you?” she asked.

“Perfectly,” he responded, inching his hands off of the shelves slowly.

“Why did you have to ask?”

Tom rolled his eyes and tilted his head away from her, ashamed to even be asked the question. He brought his hands in and crossed them over her chest. “Nothing,” he murmured.

Juliet raised an eyebrow. “No, tell me,” she said.

“It’s nothing, okay?” he snapped, hoping it would get her off his case. He wasn’t used to talking so rudely to anyone, always needing to put up a front whenever he wasn’t alone.

But Juliet didn’t care. A teasing smile formed on her face. “Oh my gosh..” she gasped unbelievably.

Tom looked at her. “What?”

“You like me!” she loudly said.

“No I don’t! Trust me. I’m very repelled by the idea of you. In fact, thinking of you starts this weird feeling in my stomach,” he spat.

Her smile grew bigger into a Cheshire Cat grin. “Butterflies?? You get butterflies from thinking of me?”

Tom’s grimace turned into a look of realization. “Of course not,” he stubbornly denied.

“Sure, sure.” Juliet threw her hands up as if to give up. She began making her way out of their corner. “I’ll see you tomorrow at potions class, lover.”

Tom knew she was only saying that to tease him, but he liked that word coming out of her mouth. Describing him as her lover. Now that was something he could get used to.

Once Juliet was out of sight and had exited the library, Tom’s face softened and he chuckled to himself as he began packing his stuff up. Whatever it was that was going on between him and Juliet, he had a good feeling about it. He felt content. Approved. Validated. Permitted. He liked the feeling of it.

“No wonder Avery and Lestrange always kiss arse,” he hummed to himself.

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