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astroselene · 3 months ago

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faith ㅤ᭢ ܍ tom riddle

the golden boy of slytherin house is a largely inaccessible figure— few know much of him past his charm and all too thin smile. which leaves you to wonder… who is he really?

main course tom riddle x reader

details one-shot, gender neutral reader

perfect tom riddle. prefect, head boy; amiable with just about everyone, considerate, top of his class. all while hailing from meager beginnings— an orphan, raised among impoverished muggle children without a clue about the true extent of his power. humble tom riddle, gracious tom riddle. this is the persona that the students of hogwarts have become acquainted with over the seven years he has spent roaming its hallowed halls.

it is also a facade.

and you know it.

perhaps it was your intuition… or maybe it was the fact that your ‘closeness’ with tom gave you a closer look into his psyche than most would be privy to. but you don’t understand. if he is aware of how you are scrutinizing him and his every intention, he hides it very well.

“what is it?” you snap to attention as tom’s voice cuts through your internal monologue.

both of you are hunched over desks in the slytherin commons, the stacks upon stacks of tomes barring your view of him. you hum noncommittally in reply.

“oh, nothing.” you plant your cheek in your palm, tapping your quill relentlessly against the table. this is entirely purposeful. you’ve noticed that every single time you do it— if only for a split second— you spot undisguised disdain on tom’s face. a split second of irritation before he corrects himself in some vain attempt to appear more tolerant than he really is.

“… you keep staring. is there something you wish to discuss?” his tone is clipped, moderate. the politeness grates on you.

you hesitate, not wanting to rock the fragile stilts of the ‘connection’ you have to tom. referring to it as “a relationship” feels like an exaggeration of the truth; despite the rumors that have made their way from every seventh to first year that you and tom are romantically involved. they aren’t unfounded, either… after all, he walks you everyday from potions to charms, studies with you, brings you as his date to all of professor slughorn’s parties, and every day you are the only person that he is seen alone with on a regular basis.

tom riddle is easily the most well liked boy in hogwarts. the only person unenchanted by him is professor dumbledore, though you don’t have a clue why. perhaps he sees what you do— that lack of a glimmer in his eyes. the little lie.

he compliments you, smiles just when it’s right and tells you all that he knows you’d like to hear. saccharine promises where he smoothly assures you that you are special and clever and more than what other people say you are. and the flattery would go right to your head, the way it has to slughorn and many of tom’s eager followers, but it doesn’t. because while he may lie, his eyes may not.

there is no true soul or emotion behind his kindness, no real admiration or passion. you wondered at first, if this was your fault. if he simply reserved his affections for other, more important people. but you observed tom closely. this performance of his was for all eyes, it seemed. but why? why would he need to pretend? what was he hiding?

“you’re doing it again…” tom sits silently before he chuckles, though even that feels rehearsed. “if there is something troubling you, you may confide in me.”

“is there something you want from me?” the words have slipped out before you can reign them in. “i’m sorry, i just… i simply don’t understand your interest in me.”

“do you mean to imply i have ulterior motives?” tom asks teasingly. you pay close attention to the undertone of condescension in his voice.

“no, no, not at all!” you start, oh so tentatively broaching the topic… “i’d like to know you better. i feel as if… i don’t understand you.”

“is that so?” you can’t see him past the books, but you imagine he’s turned smug at this. “i don’t believe you do.”

“that i want to know you, or that i don’t understand you?” you snip back.

“both.” tom replies curty.

“but i do… i want to understand you.” you move a stack of books out of the way so that you can make proper eye contact with him. “there’s more.” you go on, leaning forward in your chair.

he raises his eyebrow as indication for you to continue. you oblige. “i was simply… confused. about our status. there are rumors, after all…”

“about?” tom asks, acting as if he has no idea.

“our… relation… to each other.” your skin prickles with heat as you avert your gaze from his. tom’s beauty is transcendent, everyone knows it… he gets his way so easily. it disarms you.

“is that so…” tom hums, and gingerly places his quill on the desk. “what about it?”

“are we friends, or… more? forgive me if my assumptions are unfounded, but after you had asked me to accompany you to slughorn’s party, i thought that was…” you trail off, flustered.

“is that what you desire?” he asks. you chew on your lip thoughtfully… do you? and before you can answer, he does for you. “i suppose it is their expectation, considering our… closeness. we are both top of our year after all.”

“but…” you begin, biting your tongue.

he raises his eyebrow. “yes?”

“when you look at me… there’s… nothing there. you smile, but, there’s no… warmth.” you stare holes into your textbook. you don’t want to see whatever expression he’s carefully practiced to evoke guilt in you.

it does not come. “you are far too observant for your own good.”

tom’s eyes are just the same as they almost always are when you believe he is not performing— cold, soulless, and entirely apathetic. but you’ve been given a moment of grace to be able to see this true and honest facet of him.

“i know you. we’ve spoken at length. i know you have ambitions… so do i.” his manner of speech is so utterly clinical that it unnerves you. “i have seen you, when you believe you are alone. i see no reason to prolong a charade when our interests are aligned.”

“what interests?” you ask, your throat suddenly feeling incredibly dry.

“you have something… that i want to use.” tom smiles sardonically, his eyes narrowed. “i have made friends in our year who share my vision for the world. but there is something to be gained here for the two of us.”

“what do you have that i could want?” his chair creaks as he makes his way over to your side of the desk. he leans forward, his arms folded behind him.

“information.” he slowly produces a book from inside his coat— a book you recognize. one on enchantments that have been banned from libraries across the globe… with entries on the philosopher’s stone. immortality has always been of interest to you. how did he get it out of the restricted section?

“it’s incredibly simple. i get what i want, as do you.” how can someone be so detached? so utterly lacking in humanity, and feeling?

“if i refuse?�� you expect him to react with frustration, but he doesn’t. he just smirks, as if he’s already got you in the palm of his hand.

“have you ever heard the term, ‘mutually assured destruction’?” tom drawls, as if the fright on your face is entertaining him.

“you don’t have anything on me.” you stand up, pushing your chair in and looking to dust off your coat and head out. but he grabs your wrist icily.

“oh, but i do,” he tilts his head. “you see, i seem to recall a certain someone being incredibly helpful to me during my fifth year. unwittingly, albeit, i doubt that matters when you’ve lied to our headmaster...”

and that’s when your blood runs cold. “no.”

“you should consider it a compliment. i wouldn’t have divulged anything, had you been more daft.” tom lets his hand skate over the desk, to the leather bound notebook he always keeps close to his person. “i’d like to employ your assistance.”

he’s right by your ear, and it’s as if all your nerve endings have been set alight. you’re terrified, and unfortunately, your feelings have passed a dark shroud your judgment. privately, you curse the rapid beating of your heart.

“why do you think i requested favors, then? asking you to make excuses for my absences to our professors?” tom closes in on your personal space, so horrifyingly aware of the effect his presence has on you. “the basilisk killings had just begun. you had an inkling, didn’t you? some part of you must have realized… how when i disappeared, the slaughter would begin again… and oh, when i asked you to claim you’d seen that oaf hagrid let his foul beast attack that filthy little mudblood …”

you panic, your eyes going wide. “no, you— you told me he had done it, that it was the right thing to do, that he was—”

“you knew,” he hisses lowly, keeping your wrist in his grasp as he raises it in the air. “you knew it wasn’t him. but you took my side… because you fancy me.” and tom sneers so cruelly as he says it.

your voice wavers. “no, that’s not why i…” you’re silenced as tom collects both your wrists in one hand, his nose brushing yours. wordlessly, he uses his free hand to grasp your chin roughly. you feel his breath against your face, and it’s so unbearably overwhelming as your heart jumps from your throat to pound on your ears—

“that is all the proof i need.” he mocks, releasing your wrists and stepping away from you.

you stagger in front of the desk, clutching your chest as you breathe heavily, still delirious and caught in shock.

“entertain this charade with me. consider it a kindness that i’ve deigned to play the role of your paramour.” tom waves his hand in the air, collecting his books, and inconspicuously tucking the stolen tome into his coat. “you’re a pureblood, and proficient enough in spells to be useful to me. you will do nicely.”

“i don’t understand,” you choke out. “what is it that you truly want from me?”

a smirk grows on his face, as if he’s thinking of some inside joke he has with himself.

“… you will carry a shard of my soul.”

#ohmyGOD #tom is portrayed so well here #i'm obsessed #tom riddle #hp

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