#lord voldemort x oc

[boyswhomakemelaugh]

Decided to indulge myself and make a little board for my girl Aella. Here's a brief cliffnotes on her. There's a ton more but this gets the basics. Tom first met Aella in 1944 after she transferred to Hogwarts from Uagadou in his 7th year and was sorted into Slytherin (HL wasn't out when I made her, this lining up with Natsai is a funny coincidence). She graduated a year after him and joined him overseas despite the protests of her father. Aella eloped with Tom in Albania in 1949 after searching for the Diadem for several years. Upon returning to London, she was promptly disinherited by her pure-blood father who disagreed with his daughter marrying a penniless orphan and a man not of his own choosing. Aella and Tom would spend the next ten years playing house while Tom worked at Borgin and Burkes. Raised as a pure-blood heiress, Aella carried that mindset into their small home despite the lack of funds coming in from her father. She upheld the standards of her time in dress and decorum and made sure Tom came home to a well-dressed wife and a hot meal most days, though it was not entirely uncommon for Aella to get wrapped up in her research and lose track of time. As Aella was originally raised by house-elves and squibs, Tom had to put up with more than a few failed recipes at the beginning. While Tom had little actual care for domesticity, he did covet the sensation of being a true pure-blood that Aella created. In his mind, his wife's adherence to the old ways was his due as the Heir of Slytherin and Lord Voldemort. Aella spent her free time while Tom was at work researching various possible locations to visit to uncover further Dark Arts, designing the Dark Mark, and coming up with the base spell that would later be developed into Morsmordre. She also spent a good amount of time teaching him various forms of wandless magic native to her homeland that would later become a staple in his arsenal, although Tom never stopped preferring a wand. At some point, Tom murdered Aella's father, Lateef Ibrahim, and covered it up by using the Imperius Curse on Burke so that the shop keep would say Tom had been at work the day of Lateef's death. While Aella had her suspicions about Tom's involvement, she ultimately accepted his story and perhaps decided it was better not to know the truth. The funds that Aella would receive as the sole heir would eventually fund their travels during the 10 year disappearance. I have a ton of AUs where Aella does live, but canonically she is killed by Moody in 1979 at the height of the first Wizarding War. The loss of her drove Voldemort further into instability and the sloppiness we would see from him during the books that led to his ultimate defeat. He also forbid his followers from speaking of her ever again. During their marriage, Aella often noted that Tom had all of the building blocks for love when it came to her, but none of the know-how on how to put those pieces together. He showed his appreciation to her not through physical affection or loving words but through gifts he knew she'd like, praise for her achievements, and assurances of her value in his perceived destiny. Aella understood this as his own attempt at love, no matter how flawed, and, in turn, devoted herself entirely to his vision up until her death. One day if there's interest I'll get into her personality and more about her as a person, but this is just a tl;dr of their life together. She was NOT a good person in any way, shape, or form, but she knew how to make you think you were her best friend and it helped build up Voldemort's original followers. Pls send asks or whatever if you'd like. I'd love to talk about her.

[incorrectquotesharrypotterv]

Y/n: If I die first, promise to wait for me, okay, Tom?

Tom: Oh, Y/n. When I die, I’m taking you with me.

Y/n: I can’t tell if that’s a threat or a compliment.

Tom: I’d think of it more as a grim inevitability.

[lenoraslament]

Tom Riddle x Y/N

Hot Mess Part 2

Humor/smut/angst 2.2k words

Tom leaves you at the party, but he isn’t going to leave you wanting more for long. Still mad about you beating him at a duel, the prince of darkness just can’t leave you alone.

Warnings: smut, spanking, teasing, degradation.

Read Part 1 here.

You watched Tom disappear around the corner, and for a moment a rogue thought appeared in your head

Stop Him

Time slipped away as quickly as he had. You were dancing alone for so long.

The bass pounding only disoriented you more. Too many drinks, too much to smoke.

But you didn’t. You leaned your head back as you swayed to the ever present beat of the music. You felt a hand snake around your waist from behind and pull you in. Enzo? Theo? No, if was unfamiliar with a pair of lips that started kissing your neck.

You took a sharp breath in and realized familiar cologne was pouring over you. Teeth softly met your shoulder blade and began to nip at the spot that made your eyes roll back. Your lips part into a gasp as the hand traces along the line of your hips, dipping down to stroke your thighs.

“The whole wizarding race depends on us ,”you hear his voice teasing you.

“Hello Satan,” you slur out in response,”what happened to the girl you were with? Did she take one look at your little basilisk and die of disappointment?”

You’re about to laugh at your own joke but his hand comes down smacking you firmly on your left asscheek. You let out a strangled moan.

“You are so tawdry Y/N, you know that?” He growled in your ear.

“Maybe you should be reading up on Legilimens instead of studying the thesaurus” you tease but his hand comes down on you hard again making a gaspy scream escape your smart mouth.

“Do you ever shut up, you whore?” He asked, one hand has a vice grip on your hip bone the other one drawn back ready to meet your quip. His hips are pushing into your back

You lean your head back so it rests on his chest, looking up at him daringly.

“Not unless you make me”’you say giggling. This time he doesn’t spank you, he only tightens the hold on your hips.

“Come with me. Now.”he said whirling you away before you argue.

He whisked you down the hall, his hand intertwined in yours. You stumble after him taking in his dark hair, his broad shoulders, the musculature of his arms. Every substance you stockpiled in your system seems to fuel the burning heat of arousal coursing through you,

He unlocks the door to his private headboy dorm, before you can register the change in atmosphere he’s pushing you against the closed door.

One hand in his waist and the has a tight grip on your jaw. His eyes burn fire into yours, heavy with need. Tom’s lips part and inch closer to yours.

Your eyes flutter closed and you breath in the anticipation.

“How did you do it?” His low grumbly voice surprises you.

Your eyes snap open,” what?” You look at him honestly confused,”do… do what?”

“Beat me at the duel?” He growls.

Your mouth drops open into a scoff and you shove his chest away as roughly as you can,

“Seriously!?” You yell,”you’re asking me about the fucking duel!?”

Tom narrows his eyes as he uses his hands to push your hips back into the door. He crushed his lips into your neck, nuzzling and biting as he groped you

“How!?” He lets out a frustrated groan into your neck

“Oh and you’re going to fuck the answer out of me!?” You cry out and shove him again,”just get off of me Riddle for the love of Merlin!”.

He pulls away and picks his hands up, not because he wants to stop but because you’re screaming too loudly. He doesn’t want anyone to hear.

“Get out” he snaps and you gladly open the door behind you and stomp down the hall.

Someone has laid an anchor on your head and a snake in your belly. Those are the thoughts that come to you as you sit up the next day at nearly 1pm.

“Accio water” you mumble and the glass of water on your desk flies towards you. You barely catch it, it lands mostly on your face and lap as you groan. The couple of sips you manage to get feel like rain hitting hot asphalt.

You stumble into the bathroom, garnering a couple of stares from girls who looked fresh and pretty. Pretty girls, who and been up drinking coffee and gallivanting this beautiful Sunday morning. These girls giggle in the library, and share chocolate frogs. These girls never throw up in the shower.

Thank Merlin for magic. You think as you make it disappear with a spell. You’re determined to stand under that shower until the hot water boils off all your sins. Or at least all your thoughts about that dark haired psychopath, who keeps slipping in between the pounding in your head.

You scrub your skin until it shines. You brush your teeth with a vengeance. You put on lotion and perfume, even blow dry your hair. You wear lipgloss and mascara. You’re only 65% sure you’re not dying.

For hours you wander, into the Great Hall, into the Slytherin common room. Mumbling to your friends to shut up. Hiding behind your sunglasses again. But you can’t hide from Tom who lurked in the shadows like a lion hunting his prey.

Tom had been watching you since he saw you stumble into the Great Hall. Your little sundress and sandals, your perfect hair and those giant fucking sunglasses. His eyes wander over your body, your legs, your hips your breasts. He almost had you last night. After you left he was furious, not only because he didn’t get the answers he wanted. He didn’t get you either.

You fluttered around the castle as if the constant movement could hide the pain you were in. He fingered the potion in his pocket, he had brewed early this morning. A hangover potion, trying to decide when to make his move.

Finally you landed in the Slytherin common room, stretching into the couch like a cat. The hem of dress flirting with the top of your thighs. The sight pained him so badly he bit his own lip.

Your head was tipped to the side as you laid on the luxe green couch. He couldn’t tell if you were asleep .Those giant sunglasses he wished he could confringo were covering your eyes too well. He put his tongue in his cheek trying to decide if he should take the chance and Legilimens you or if he should give you the hangover potion.

Of course, he didn’t know that you had been watching him contemplate the two options as he stood over you. You tip your sunglasses down and glare at him.

“Did you ever consider that I beat you at the duel because I’m simply that good.” You say not hiding your annoyance.

Tom nearly jumped when you spoke, his look of surprise quickly turned into a grimace.

“Impossible. You’re a vapid whore” he spat angrily.

You pushed yourself up on your forearms, finally fed up with him.

“And you are a pretentious little know it all, who is not nearly as smart as he thinks he is!”’you rant chest practically heaving in anger,”you’re arrogant, only leaning on your fathers name and status, the dark lord should be ashamed to see you resting on your laurels. I could occlude you in my fucking sleep!” You snap, cheeks flushed in pure rage.

Tom looks peaked by your words. His mouth drops open and closes. He is…impressed. By your anger and confidence. You insulted him the same way you duel, with fire and passion. He says nothing, he only shoved your legs over so he can sit down next to you. You sit up. He takes the small vial of hangover potion out of his pocket and hands it to you.

You give him a side eye, and open to smelling it. You recognize its scent immediately and take it. You play with the empty vial in your hands.

“I still hate you,”you grumble at him.

He looks at you sidelong and pushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear,”I hate you too. Slut.”

“Sociopathic fuck”

“Superficial bitch”

“Brown nosing-“

You get cut off as he grabs your face, he tips your head back softly. Your lips brush against eachother making you gasp as you part them further. Your tongues touch with voltage, they dance against eachother and your eyes nearly roll back. Your arms are around his shoulders as his hands tangle into your hair.

Silence follows you both down the hall. Into his room. Before the door is closed his lips are on your neck, sucking and biting as you make quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

His hands nearly claw up your thighs to take two handfuls of your ass as his lips roughly crash onto yours again. Your teeth scrape together, tongues fighting for dominance. He pulls back panting, taking the straps of your dress and pulling them down your shoulder as you tug his hair needily.

Zip. The sound of his slacks falling in time with your dress. Nearly tripping over his pants, he shoves on the bed. Nothing about your movements are sensual. They are furious with hunger. He bites your neck as you claw his back, your flurry of breaths and whines are silenced as he pulls back.

You lay beneath him as the starkness of both of your expose bodies hits you. He lays kneeled between your legs, one hand gripping your waist. Both of your eyes survey eachother, mouths open in lust.

Finally they draw together, a gaze that only deepens the fire that is threatening to set the bed ablaze. He pushes into you making you gasp and arch your back. His thumb traces over your lip as he moves slowly, teasingly. His eyes never leaving yours.

Drawing breaths and gasps from your mouth as you feel yourself being stretched and released. His hand drops down slowly to wrap around your throat. His deep controlled pace never faltering, you expected fast and hard. Somehow the smooth, painfully slow and measured pace is maddening to you.

Your eyes roll back as you moan loudly, the heat coiling inside you threatening to snap as he draws out your orgasm. His hand squeezes as you scrunch your face, teetering onto the edge of your climax.

Right as the heady feeling rips through your body, he picks up his pace. It earns a breathy scream from your lips, he fucks you right through your peak. Hard. Making you writhe your hips and grasp at the hand still around your throat. White hot pleasure blinding out all of your other senses.

He smirks at you only making your hatred and desire intensify.

“You even fuck like a deranged-“ you start but he cuts you off by flipping you around. His hand clamping against your mouth as he takes you from behind.

“Shut up for the love of-“ he mumbles between thrusts and moans. He bites your shoulder softly as his free hand reaches between your legs to stroke your swollen clit.

You begin to come undone, making his excitement grow. Your legs give out from the intensity, as your stomach hits the bed he continues to fuck you into the mattress, the hand that held your mouth now softly tugging at your hair. He leans closer and you feel his breath tickling your shoulder blade, his moan near your ear nearly has you close again. Is this why all those girls are so obsessed with him? You wonder

“Get off” you mumble suddenly surprising him. He slowly pulls his hips away and you turn to look at him.

“Lay back” you tell him, he only raises his eyebrow in amusement.

“No” he says plainly as he moves to kiss you again.

You draw your lips away and smile, “Lay back or I leave”. He glares at you before letting himself lay back on the bed. You crawl over and straddle him, sinking your hips down onto him slowly as payback. He immediately grips your hips to move you but you surprise him by slapping him across the face softly.

“Patience” you whisper. He can’t help but smirk and loosen his grip. Your hips roll like waves in the ocean, his eyes shut and his head falls back as you ride him with the same intensity as he tortured you with.

“Fuck…” he mutters as you squeeze your kegel muscles and begin to snap your hips forward faster. His fingers dig into your waist as you both pant and moan.

“You really are a good little slut” he mutters and you draw your hand back again to strike but he catches your wrist and pulls you towards him.

You fall forward on his chest and he holds you there; bringing up his hips to take control and fuck you at a faster pace. Another sweet burn makes you whine into his chest as his arms interlock around the small of your back. His movements are getting sloppy and slower and he mumbles your name breathlessly.

“Oh fuck Y/N…oh “

Hearing your name escape his lips, is enough to throw you over the edge as you both buck and gasp into your shared climax.

A chorus of breaths overtake both of you, as you collapse onto him covered in sweat. You feel his arms ease up on you, his hand strokes your back softly. His lips nestling against your forehead.

“I want a rematch” he says as he pants,”to the duel. I need a rematch”.

You roll your eyes as you breathe into his chest.

“You’re impossible.”

Taglist: @abbiesxox

[beegomess]

T.R. || Loving you forever

Summary: Tom and you made a pact that they would be together forever, and you are willing to do so. Even if you have to trick some people into having him in your arms again.

Warnings: The story will take place in the 5thº year.

You, a brilliant student of Slytherin, carry with you an emotional weight and a story that few can understand. The connection you shared with Tom Riddle transcends mere friendship or romance; it was a union of souls who promised a future together, challenging not only conventions, but also the timelines themselves.

The promise made with Tom was more than words; it was a sealed pact with a love so intense that it seemed immortal. When the spell cast by him projected you forward in time, it was not just an escape, but a way to preserve this connection beyond death and forgetfulness. Every day at Hogwarts, while you keep your Slytherin student facade, it is a silent battle to hide the true weight of your heart — the pain of being separated from the one you love most and the persistent hope of meeting him again.

Current life, with its challenges and interactions, is constantly filtered through the memory of the past. Every step you take is calculated, each action is measured with the intention not only to fulfill your mission, but also to keep alive the memory of the love that once defined your existence. The fact that Tom's diary is the key to his resurrection makes his quest a mixture of duty and desire, an effort to restore what has been lost and, at the same time, a longing for a future where you can be together again.

As you approach Harry Potter, you are not only in search of a magical object; you are struggling to unite two worlds - the present and the past, love and obligation, the real and the imagined. Every moment you spend trying to gain Potter's trust is a step closer to realizing a promise that was made in simpler times, and also an attempt to reconcile what was left behind with what can still be achieved.

Behind his calm smile and the calculated strategies, there is a soul marked by an eternity of longing and a heart that still pulsates for the love that has never been faded. The mission is your redemption and your purpose, and its success is the key to restoring a piece of a past that you have never been able to leave completely behind.

His "frendity" began in a Herbology class. You were still someone unknown to him, which certainly helped you.

Harry began to sympathize with you some time ago, seeing you as an unexpected ally. It didn't take long for an obstacle to emerge in his path. Hermione Granger began to suspect her true intentions and decided to warn Harry about you.

One afternoon, while you were talking to Harry in the hallway, Hermione approached with a serious expression, which made you say goodbye and move away discreetly.

- Harry, are you sure you can trust her? - Hermione asked, her voice loaded with concern. - She is from Slytherin, and this should be taken into account.

Harry looked at Hermione, with a confused expression.

- I see no reason to suspect her. She has been very helpful. - Harry replied, trying to seem convinced.

Hermione crossed her arms, her eyes fixed on Harry with a determined look.

- Besides, she is also born a sucker, just like you. It wouldn't be a bad idea to have someone from Slytherin around. But don't worry, I know the reputation of the house is not the best. - He paused, as if expecting an argument.

Although it was not true that you were a "born sucker", the lie that you faced prejudice in Slytherin had a convincing effect on Harry. He believed it quickly, making his task easier.

- I just want you to be cautious. - Hermione insisted. - Even if she seems friendly, Slytherins have a reputation and, in my experience, it is always better not to let your guard down.

Despite Hermione's reservations, Harry continued to open up to you, but his interventions added a layer of tension to his plan. Maintaining Harry's confidence while dealing with Hermione's vigilance was a constant game of balance. Their meetings were planned to look spontaneous, always with a welcoming smile and an offer of genuine help. In each interaction, you calibrated your behavior to be useful and reliable, so that Harry did not suspect his true intentions.

[...]

On the night of that same day, the library was wrapped in an almost reverential silence, illuminated by the flickering light of the candles and the soft glow of the magic lamps. The tall bookshelves projected mysterious shadows, creating an environment that combined comminess and mystery. Harry Potter was sitting at a table, immersed in a thick book, but his expression showed distraction.

You approached with a calm and strategic posture, your clear goal. Harry was distracted, and you noticed a subtle glow emanating from his bag, which was partially open on the table. With a trained look, you immediately recognized Tom Riddle's diary, shining slightly under the light of the library.

- Harry! - You started, your soft and friendly voice - It looks like you're having trouble with this material. Do you need help?

Harry looked up at you, his expression mixing relief with a twinge of suspicion. He moved slightly away from the bag, as if unconsciously protecting the valuable object it contained.

- Oh, it's you. - Harry replied, a little surprised. - Actually, I'm having difficulties with it. I would appreciate it if you can take a look.

You smiled and leaned over to examine the book, your hand sliding discreetly in the direction of the bag. The diary was there, clearly visible through the opening. You tried to stay calm while adjusting your position, trying to get closer to the bag without drawing attention.

However, Harry seemed to notice the movement. His eyes fixed on his hand next to the bag and he hardened a little, his lips closing in a thin line.

The silence of the library was interrupted by a slight sound of something falling on the floor. Tom Riddle's diary, which was visibly exposed in Harry's bag, slipped from the opening and fell with a deaf thum on the tiled floor. The sound made Harry lean abruptly to pick up the object, his expression of concern quickly turning into tension.

He bent down and caught the diary quickly, his fingers squeezing the object firmly as he straightened. His eyes were now fixed on the diary, and there was a shadow of nervousness on his face. The tension was palpable, and he made a visible effort to hide the book in his bag carefully, trying to stay calm.

Taking advantage of the moment, you leaned a little further forward, watching the scene with a look of genuine concern.

- It seems that this is very important to you - you said, your voice loaded with a carefully calculated empathy. - What is this book? It seems to be causing a lot of tension.

Harry looked at you with an expression of surprise and discomfort. He hesitated for a moment, clearly struggling to decide how much to reveal. The shadow of distrust still hovered in his eyes, but the sincerity in his tone seemed to have created a gap.

- It's just one... a personal item. - Harry replied, his voice a little hesitant. - It's nothing to worry about.

You gave a slight understanding smile, trying to soften the situation and keep gaining your trust.

- I Understand. Sometimes, we all have things that we prefer to keep to ourselves. - You said, tilting your head in a friendly way. - But if you need someone to talk to or help with anything, I'm here for that.

Harry seemed to relax a little, although there was still a pinch of caution in his eyes. He clearly appreciated the offer of support, but was still struggling to balance trust with distrust.

- Thank you. - Harry said, his tone a little more relaxed, but still careful. - It's good to know that.

You took advantage of the moment to take a step closer, but without invading his personal space.

- No problem, Harry. The truth is that I'm here to help, and I hope we can work together to overcome any difficulty. - You paused, watching him carefully. - If you need anything, especially if the book is causing problems, know that you can talk to me.

Harry gave a slight nod, his gaze still a little cautious, but grateful. The diary, now again hidden in the bag, seemed to be a source of great concern for him, and his answer indicated that he was starting to open up a little more.

As you walked away, a feeling of satisfaction and relief mixed with the awareness that distrust was still present. Every step towards Harry's trust was a victory.

[...]

The next day, Hogwarts was immersed in an atmosphere of expectation. A timid sun filtered through the windows of the Great Hall, casting soft rays of light on the students' tables. The murmuring conversations and the usual clamor were interrupted when an urgent announcement echoed through the corridors.

Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley were summoned to the Flitwick professor's room due to an unexpected situation: the House's Academic Performance Report was severely outdated and there was an alarming discrepancy in the grades of several students. Hermione, known for her perfectionism and dedication, was immediately involved in solving the problem, while Ron, although initially reluctant, was dragged into the task due to his friendship with Hermione and his desire to help her.

The situation was carefully orchestrated by you. A quick manipulation in the academic records and a subtle error in the calculations had been enough to create a distraction that involved Hermione and Ron for several hours. The confusion generated and the need to correct the data urgently caused them to focus intensely on the task, leaving Harry Potter alone and unprotected.

With Hermione and Ron busy, you saw the perfect opportunity to get closer to Harry. The day was clear and calm, and the library was almost deserted. Harry was sitting at one of the tables, studying alone, his concentration interrupted only occasionally by looks of concern.

In the following hours, you adopted a meticulous surveillance strategy, remaining discreet and observant while following Harry Potter's movements. At every moment, you him through the corridors of Hogwarts, keeping a safe distance so as not to raise suspicions. His goal was clear: to wait for the right moment to intervene and ensure that he could follow Harry's footsteps for Tom Riddle's diary.

The library, where you were often nearby, became your observation post. On some occasions, you infiltrated the common areas and spent time in strategic corridors, always with a watchful eye on any sign that could indicate the boy's plans.

It was on a particularly quiet afternoon, while you were leaning discreetly against one of the walls of the corridor near the women's bathroom, that something caught your attention. Harry was alone, his hesitant steps echoing down the deserted corridor. He seemed to follow a voice that no one else could hear, an expression of curiosity and confusion on his face.

The scene aroused your interest immediately. Harry approached the women's bathroom with a fixed look, almost hypnotized, following the inaudible sound. This place, in particular, carried an emotional weight for you. It was the same bathroom where you and Tom Riddle had spent intimate and secret moments during your youth. It was also the entrance to the Secret Chamber, a vital place for his plans.

You hid in the shadows, watching carefully as Harry stood in front of the bathroom door. He hesitated for a moment, looking around as if trying to understand the origin of the voice that called him. His heart beat faster when he saw his interaction with the family environment. The old walls and dusty mirrors looked like silent witnesses of the past, preserving the secrets and history of his love with Tom.

Harry entered the bathroom, and the door closed smoothly behind him. You knew that could be the moment you were waiting for.

With your mind boiling with excitement and a renewed desire to achieve your goal, you waited patiently. The anticipation of finally being able to recover his beloved Tommy and the certainty that the moment was approaching filled his heart with a mixture of hope and anxious expectation.

After a few minutes, you decided to follow Harry. Entering the women's bathroom, nostalgia enveloped him when he remembered the moments shared with Tom there. Each step he took brought her closer to the achievement of his goal. Harry's presence there meant that something important was about to happen, and you were determined to ensure that the plan to bring Tom Riddle back was realized.

You moved forward, your breathing controlled, moving with the grace and caution of a predator. When he entered the bathroom, he saw Harry standing in front of a sink, murmuring words that activated the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. A smile of satisfaction appeared on his lips. The way was open, and you were ready to follow Harry and recover the diary that meant so much to you and Tom.

Harry looked around one last time, then disappeared through the secret entrance. Without wasting time, you followed him, descending through the depths of the Secret Chamber, each step bringing you closer to your final goal.

Nothing could stop you from bringing your boyfriend back, not even the famous Harry Potter. After all, you had promised Tom eternity together, and you were willing to do anything to fulfill that promise.

With the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets open, you followed Harry carefully, keeping yourself in the shadows so as not to be detected. The narrow passage widened as they advanced, revealing a path of stones flanked by statues of imposing snakes. The air was humid and cold, and the smell of mold impregnated the environment.

The tension increased with each step. The statues of snakes, with their eyes fixed and mouths open, seemed to watch you as you advanced. The dim light reflected on the damp stones, creating a gloomy and mysterious environment. In the background, an immense sculpture of Salazar Slytherin's face dominated the space, his stern gaze seeming to judge anyone who dared to enter that sacred place.

You stayed in the shadows, watching as Harry approached the center of the chamber. His heart beat faster when he saw Gina Weasley lying on the floor, apparently unconscious. Harry ran to her, kneeling next to her and trying to wake her up with evident despair.

- Gina! Wake up, please! Gina!

You saw the frustration and fear in Harry's eyes as he insisted that Gina wake up. He shook her slightly, trying to resuscitate her. But before he could make any progress, a familiar voice echoed through the walls of the chamber, making his heart jump.

- She's not going to wake up.

You recognized the voice instantly. It was Tom Riddle, or rather, a projection of his youth. He emerged from the shadows, his imposing presence and cold look fixed on Harry. Time seemed to stop as you watched the scene unfold, the presence of Tom filling the camera with a sense of power and authority.

Harry stared at Tom with a mixture of confusion and determination.

- Tom... Tom Riddle. - Harry stuttered. - What do you mean she won't wake up? Is she...?

- She's still alive, but by a thread. - Your acquaintance and beloved Tom Riddle was finally there.

Tom's footsteps approached Harry, who stared at him with a certain fear.

- Are you a ghost?

- A memory preserved in a diary for 50 years. - Slytherin corrected it.

Tom noticed Harry's wand fallen and picked it up. Harry still seemed worried about Gina, a little distracted to realize.

- She looks cold. Tom, and the basilisk? - Harry looked up and noticed his wand in Tom's hands. - Return my wand, Tom. - The boy used an authoritarian voice.

- Why? You won't need it. - Riddle replied simply.

- Look, we have to go. We need to save her. - Potter insisted.

- I don't think I can do that, Harry. - He paused. - While Gina gets weaker, I get stronger.

It was at that moment that you decided to get out of the shadows. Harry, surprised to see you there, tried to position himself to protect her.

- Y/N, get out of here! He's dangerous! - Harry shouted, the concern evident in his voice.

But you just smiled and took a few steps towards Tom, ignoring Harry's warning. Her eyes fixed on the familiar and beloved face, Tom's expression softening slightly when recognizing her.

- Y/N? - Tom murmured, a mixture of surprise and recognition in his voice.

You nodded, the emotion evident in your eyes.

- Tom... Finally. - you said, the voice choked. - I spent 50 years looking for you, waiting for this moment.

Harry watched the scene, just shocked and confused.

- Y/N, what are you doing? He's trying to hurt Gina!

Tom reached out, and you took it without hesitation, feeling the familiar warmth of your touch.

- Y/N... my dear. - Tom said softly, his eyes fixed on yours. - I missed you so much. Every second away from you was an eternity.

- You have no idea how long I waited for this. - You answered, the emotion overflowing as I hugged you.

Harry, still processing the revelation, was trying to find a way to save Gina and prevent Tom's plans. But Tom's presence by your side and his growing power made it clear that you would not let anything or anyone interfere in your reunion.

Tom held his hand firmly, his dark eyes full of determination. Harry, still trying to understand what was happening, took a step forward, desperate to save Gina and understand the situation.

- Y/N, that's crazy! He's dangerous! - Harry begged.

You looked at Harry, without showing regret, just firmness. Tom, with Harry's wand in hand, turned to you, a cold smile on his lips as if admiring her.

Harry, confused and distressed, continued to look at you and Tom, paralyzed next to Gina's unconscious body. His expression was a mixture of shock and despair.

- Why, Y/N? How can you do that? - Harry managed to murmur, his voice full of frustration.

Tom gave an enigmatic smile.

- Harry, you can't understand. Y/N and I share a past that transcends any notion you may have. We were colleagues at Hogwarts, and our love was something deep and immortal. We made a promise of eternity that nothing and no one can undo.

Harry looked at Tom in disbelief.

- But... how did she not appear in the memories I saw? - Harry questioned, still trying to understand.

This time you answered coldly.

- Tom showed you only what he wanted you to see. There are many things you don't know, many hidden truths. I've always been by your side, even when you couldn't see it. - You pause, but then it continues. - Thank you for making things easier, Harry.

Tom began to resume his complete physical state, his presence solidifying as he again became an imposing and real figure. Harry, paralyzed next to Gina, watched feeling the failure on his shoulders.

_______________________________

masterlist

xoxo, bee 🫶🏼✨

[zvdvdlvr]

If youve read some of my revent work, i think you can understand my fascination with vampires (or vampyres). Butttttt i realized i hadn’t written any vamp!reader for anyone in cod or harry potter

So this is my official vamp!reader x tom riddle shit post.

I like to think that Tom realized somethingwas different about you when he couldn’t read your mind using Legilimency. It was sixth year at this point and you were a kept-together, quiet student. As a Slytherin, Tom knew your name but nevr paid attention to you until sixth year: people whispered about you when you passed by, teachers were noticeably more lenient with you on almost everything, your magic was extremely powerful and you were well practiced, and how striking your features were.

Professor privilege (or ‘special treatment’) consisted of you attending most classes but ignoring everything that was going on. You never slept- Tom noted- but were always doing somthing else. The differing activities you preformed didn’t disrupt the class, but the fact that you always did something else in every class was definitely an eyebrow raiser.

Your magic was powerful. Powerful, honed, practised, strong, and memorable. Tom was intrigued by how fluid your wand movements were, how quickly you could cast a spell, how lethal your movements were, and your ability to cast spells without a wand. As a sixth year, wandless incantations were growing more and more popular. But the fact that you could preform duels without your wand- strings of spells- without so much as a twitch of the hand was extraordinary.

Tom didn’t want to say you were pretty, but in all honesty, you were incredibly attractive in Tom’s opinion. Your sculpted eyebrows paired with the stony stare in your eyes? The way your cheekbones hung over your guant face was further enhancing Tom’s interest in you. Your chin and jawline were prominent, a perfect mix of sharp and piercing.

Going more in depth in the people gossiping about you wasn’t really necessary. Some people- boys- were attracted to your facial and body features, ‘spcial treatment’, and just wanted to have sex. Other people- girls- were jealous of the interest many of their boyfriends gave you, were jealous of your smarts, and didn’t like you. You were powerful and you knew it. People didn’t like that.

These traits led Tom Riddle to the jarring conclusion that you were a vampyre. town further prove his theory, Tom often caught a glimpse of you wandering the corridors at night, paying no mind to the prefects and head boys and girls that saw you. You conversed easily ith the portraits and spirits- even befriending Peeves.

Evan Rosier was the one to bring up your existence during a Knights of Walpurgis meeting. Tom had listened to Rosier’s ideas- involving you with their agenda and bringing you into their organization. 

Tom had his doubts. He believed that you were not the right person to try to convince. Tom protested for no real reason. He himself didn’t even know why he was tensing up around your name, growing defensive as the conversation continued. Why?

Coincidentally Tom Marvolo Riddle came across you striding into the Forbidden Forrest that very same night.

He didn’t know why he followed you. Tom didn’t know that, for some reason, you intrigued and infuriated him to no end. Why must you effortlessly best him at every activity? Why must you look so unbothered after singlehandedly destroying three seventh year Quidditch players after making a bet that you couldn’t win against them as a 3 versus 1? Why, pray tell, were you the only person on Tom’s mind after seeing your sly smirk when you stumbled across something undeniably inappropriate in your book? Why you? Why-

“Stop thinking so loudly.”

Tom stood- frozen- as you moved into an open clearing. You clicked your tongue a few times and whistled. After doing it a few times in a pattern, Tom realized you were summoning something.

“What did you follow me for?” Your voice was crisp and audible despite the distance between the two of you that was closing slowly. Tom inched forward, hesitating for one of the few times in his life.

“Why did you sneak out? I could report you to the headmaster for this. You’ve done this before, so I could get you in trouble for a long time.”

You showed no reaction as you tilted your ear up. You whistled again. “Step back, please.”

Tom didn’t know why he complied but he did. A second later, a large winged animal emerged from the trees. A hippogriff, Tom realized. “Did you hear me? I said-“

“Do even know my name, Tom Riddle?” You finally turnd around. Your face was even more haunting in the moonlight. “If you have seen me sneak out numerous times before, why haven’t you already told anyone? You have nothing to blackmail me with, so I am confused by your reasoning for following me.” You watched Tom for a second. The hippogriff whinnied shyly behind you and you immediately turned your sharp gaze away.

Tom realized that he liked your sharp eyes on him. He liked when you looked at him like you could crush him- knowing that you could, in fact, crush him. But then Tom realized that you knew his name.

You cooed and murmured something to the hippogriff that was inaudible to Tom. You patted the animal’s side and mounted the beast. You cooed a few more words at the animal before turning to Tom. “If you come with me, I can answer some of your questions. You’re an awfully curious fellow, Tom. Very smart…”

“You can read my thoughts?”

“Like an open book,” you snickered. “I’m leaving in ten seconds- as does your opportunity for answers.”

The hippogriff’s feet stamped anxiously, eargerly awaiting departure.

Tom’s jaw set. Did he really want to? He couldn’t answer the question as he took a step forward.

“Bow first,” you commanded quietly.

Withholding a scoff, Tom scoured the animal’s eyes before bending down at the waist. The blasted animal waited until Tom’s entire core burned to caw and return the bow. 

Tom struggled to mount. He couldn’t quite wrap his arm and get his leg up to the beast. He glowered, hearing your breathy chuckle. “Help me.”

Your eyes seemed to smile. You reached out a hand and waited impatiently for Tom to take it.

Despite how impressed Tom was at how easily you lugged him up, he grumbled. “Where are we going?”

“To eat,” you replied simply. “Better hold on, Tom, I ride fast.”

Tom grumbled. He didn’t want to hear the coyness in your tone at the last sentence. “I don’t need to hold on.”

Suddenly, the hippogriff lurched forward and Tom’s throat let out a choked cry. He wrapped his arms tightly around your waist and scooted further into you as the beast rose into the air. He grumbled some more after prying his forhead from your shoulder and opening his eyes.

“There’s food at the castle,” Tom whispered with a ragged voice. “What are you going to eat?”

“Not the kind of stuff I need,” you chuckled. “They don’t keep fresh blood for me there.”

[toctua]

Well, it's my birthday today, so I brought you this (๑>؂•̀๑)

I also realized I forgot to ask you something here… I'm thinking about starting a toctua Instagram account. So, have you found it convenient to follow me there? Do you use Instagram?

[fuokir]

Dark things happen in the Slytherin common room at night… if you know what I mean 🤤🤤🤤

[dream-your-own-way]

Tom Riddle || “sundays are for missing him”

summary: once hopelessly in love with Tom, reader is now left with nothing but memories of their love, and their special Sundays together. Reader! Narration basically. She’s reminiscing.

Warnings: none really, slight mention of toxic relationship (it’s Tom), sad ending :(

Pairing: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

On Sundays I miss him a little extra. They used to be reserved for us, you see? It started as a tradition back at school when we first got together, we’d spent Sundays glued to each tohers side from morning till after dinner time. There were no other friends, no knights, no duties. Just us. We would study, explore the grounds together, read against a tree by the Black Lake (he’d glare at anyone who dared to even came close to where we were sitting). Most of the warmer months were spent there, with my head on his lap as he read whichever book held his obsession for the week, and other times we’d switch, his head on my lap as I read the latest murder mystery book I had recently bought. And of course, the bloody genius he was is, would always solve the murder before the end of the book (though my fondest memories were of us both trying to solve a particularly hard one together) His handsome face frowning is we’d gotten it wrong, furiously claiming that his ending made much better sense - or his lips would curl up into a smug victory smirk if we’d gotten it right, then we’d share a victory song. His head always stayed on my lap for much longer after finishing the book.

On the colder months, we usually spent it at the Room of Requirement, exclusive to us at the time when no one else was aware of its existence. Whenever we stepped into the room, it’d transform into a beautiful and cozy flat looking space, with a big, green, canopy bed at the center, in front of the big fireplace, sporting a luxurious green comforter and several pillows (my doing which always seemed to annoy him whenever we had to stop making out and sweep the pillows onto the floor). On the left side, behind a screen, a decent sized bathtub took up room, where we’d spend hours relaxing and cuddling. A large fluffy rug covered the right part of the room, where a plush green velvet sofa and a couple armchairs sat by a large bookshelf filled with many books, manuscripts and trinkets, next to it a small radio playing 30’s and 40’s music, sometimes pausing to broadcast news about the wars (muggle and Wizarding). On the left side of the room, two work desks were placed in front of one other and, as always, a large stash of sweets piled up neatly on my own desk.

There, we’d spent hours and hours reading, chatting, making love and studying. It was almost as if we had our own home together inside the castle, in there were truly a couple, certainly arguing like an old married one, and hungry for each other as if we were newlyweds. A million secrets, promises of love, sweet nothings and plans were shared in our lovely sanctuary.

After graduation, our tradition continued. I moved in with him quickly to his family’s ancestral home, a manor in the muggle village of Little Hangleton. When he turned 18 he had been able to claim he was the son of the recently deceased Tom Riddle Senior (the similarities between him and his late father were undeniable, even to the old stuffy muggle lawyer) so the inheritance passed on to him, including the manor. But there we had grounds to explore, a small lake at the edge of the property to relax by and make love without the fear of being discovered. It was truly heaven on earth, until he started to change. Until the horcruxes they changed him. The love of my life gone in what seemed to be a blink of an eye (though in truth were many months of tears and heartbreak on my part) and what remained of him simply a dark shadow of the man he used to be. Promises of loved turned into indifference, coldness and empty looks. No proposals, no rings, no weddings, not even ‘I love yous’ were exhanged near the end. Just silent tears on my side of the bed, and impatient sighs once he heard them.

Now, after all is said and done, I can only look back at those memories with fondness and longing. Unable to stop missing the man he once was. As he vanished on a foggy April night to an unknown location in the country of Albania, I find myself in America 10 months later, left with a newborn son who has his father’s eyes, and the memories of what once was.

A/N: Omg!! This is the first fic I’ve ever posted on here! This is based on my script if I ever manage to shift (lol) also inspired by So Long London, by Taylor Swift. English isn’t my first language. Hope you enjoyed :) please be kind. Grammar corrections welcome, just hit me up on my dms :)

[webbluvrsugar]

texts between Tom Riddle x hufflepuff!reader

[isbreulla]

I present to you the main antagonists of Sarah Snape's story, or should I say the villains?

[handercover]

Y/N : *Raises hand after Voldemort comes to Hogwarts after the battle*

Y/N : Sir, disrespectfully, I think someone stole your nose

Y/N : *Proceeds to dodge an Avada Kedavra*

[ms-snape]

i LOVE your writing sm!! could i request a Tom Riddle x reader where she sends him anonymous love letters and he somehow— for his own amusement— decided to write back which surprised her.

he meant for it all to be just for his benefit but slowly he started falling for the girl and one day she confessed who she is and he gives her chance!

Title: Letters From The Heart

Warning: Tom being Tom, opened end might be a part 2 depends on u guys

Words Count:3000+

Masterlist

---

There were things about Hogwarts that Tom Riddle had learned to both admire and despise. It was a place of power—raw, unfettered power—but it was also a place where the weak minded reveled in their ignorance. To Tom, power was everything. It was the key to control. It was what separated him from the rest of them, the ordinary masses who bowed and scraped, who lived in fear of their own limitations. And Tom had never been like them. He was exceptional. Brilliant. Born to be something more.

He had already begun to carve out his future, reshaping the world in his image. No one in the school, not the professors nor the students, could touch him. His intelligence, his ambition, and his presence were more than enough to put him at the top.

But it was the unexpected intrusion of something he could neither predict nor control that intrigued him.

It began with a letter.

It was a late evening when Tom returned to his dormitory, his footsteps echoing through the empty corridors of Slytherin House. The fire in the common room had long since died out, and the shadows seemed to stretch longer than usual, their cold fingers creeping along the stone walls. He was alone, as always, and that was how he preferred it. He didn’t need the company of others. People were tools, instruments to use when necessary, and once they had outlived their usefulness, they could be discarded. The thought made him smile faintly.

As he stepped into the private quarters assigned to him as a prefect, something caught his eye: a small, folded parchment sitting on his bed. There was no seal, no identifying marks on the paper. Just a single, carefully folded note. His mind clicked, instantly curious. He had grown accustomed to receiving praise from others—though never directly, always whispered behind his back—but this was different. Whoever this was, they had made sure no one knew of their message.

With a flick of his wrist, Tom summoned a candle, lighting it with a small burst of fire. The soft light revealed the elegant handwriting on the note.

"Dear Tom

I don’t know if you’ll ever read this, but I can’t help but admire you. Your brilliance, your strength, the way you walk through this school as though you are above it all. I have spent so many nights dreaming of what it would be like to be near you, to feel the same air, the same space. Maybe that’s foolish, but it’s true.

Your Secret Admirer"

Tom stared at the letter. It was oddly intimate, almost too personal for someone so clearly intent on staying anonymous. His lips quirked upward in amusement. Someone—some girl, most likely—was infatuated with him. He should have dismissed it immediately, but instead, he found himself reading it again. The words were filled with reverence, with a longing that he had seen before in the eyes of countless students, but this letter… this letter was different. There was something about the way it was written. It didn’t scream desperation, it whispered with a quiet intensity.

With a quiet sigh, he folded the note back up, slipping it into the drawer of his desk. It wasn’t worth his time to think about. He had more pressing matters to attend to. But the next day, when he returned to his dorm after a long day of lessons, another letter awaited him.

This time, it was heavier, the parchment thicker. He opened it with the same mixture of curiosity and indifference. The words were different, yet the tone remained the same. Reverence, fascination, and a touch of fear. The writer spoke of his eyes, the way they could see through people, cutting through their facades and exposing their weaknesses. They spoke of how his mere presence seemed to command attention, how it was as though he were not of this world, but something far greater.

This time, Tom smiled darkly. "How pathetic."

But there was something else lurking in the back of his mind. He had always enjoyed the power of being admired, but this was different. This felt almost… personal. There was something about the tone of the letter that intrigued him.

What if he responded?

He had never had to chase after attention—his reputation did that work for him. But the thought of an unknown admirer… someone who dared to admire him from the shadows… it was a mystery he found himself wanting to solve. Perhaps it would be amusing to see where this led.

And so, he wrote his first response.

"To my anonymous admirer,

Your words have reached me. Your admiration is noted, though I wonder—do you truly understand the depth of what you are feeling? Do you even know what you desire from someone like me? I do not give my attention easily, and I do not waste my time on those who are not worthy of it.

But I must admit, your persistence is… interesting. I wonder if you will continue to write me, or if you will fade away as so many before you have done. You are already more than most of the students here, and yet… I wonder what you truly want from me."

Until then, I await your next letter.

Tom M Riddle."

He sent the letter off with a casual flick of his wand, his heart not quite as indifferent as he would have liked. The idea of a mystery—an admirer—was not something that Tom was accustomed to. And yet, he felt… something. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was boredom. Whatever it was, it was enough to keep him engaged in this strange game.

For the next few days, Tom carried on as usual. He attended his classes, ignored the sycophants who tried to gain his favor, and continued to plot his rise to power. But still, he thought about the letters. The words. The careful way in which the writer expressed their feelings. Whoever this person was, they had talent. They could write—really write—and there was something deeply personal about their observations of him.

As the weeks passed, the letters kept coming. Tom found himself growing increasingly intrigued by the mystery behind them. The messages were no longer simply filled with praise and longing; they had become more introspective. The writer spoke of their own struggles, their dreams, and fears. They confided their deepest thoughts in a way that no one else ever did. It was as though they believed they could open themselves up to him without fear, even though they knew nothing about him.

There was a certain beauty in that, Tom thought. A rawness he had never allowed anyone to see. Not even himself.

But each letter was also a test. He found himself crafting his responses with greater care. He was no longer playing just for amusement. He was fascinated by the writer's mind, by how she saw him. And the more he read, the more he began to wonder: Who was she?

His answers to her letters became more pointed, more calculated. He wanted to see how far she would go. How much she would reveal. He would lead her on, keep her writing, keep her thinking about him, all the while weaving his own twisted thoughts into her mind.

"To my dear admirer,

I have been thinking about your letters, about how you speak of your own weakness. You claim to admire my strength, my power, but I suspect you are simply looking for someone to guide you, someone to help you overcome your own failures. But do not misunderstand me. I do not give my attention to the weak. And you, my dear, are still weak."

"But I will say this—your letters intrigue me. I wonder what else you are hiding behind your words. Perhaps there is more to you than meets the eye."

Until then, I remain curious.

Tom M Riddle."

Days turned into weeks. The letters kept coming, and each one felt like a thread pulling them closer together. Tom found himself reading them with a strange sense of anticipation. The game had shifted. It was no longer just about power, nor about winning some hollow admiration. There was a deeper layer to it, something he hadn’t expected. A sense of longing had crept into his responses, subtle but unmistakable.

Then, one day, the letters stopped.

For days, Tom waited for another envelope to arrive. He convinced himself it was nothing. A mere blip in his game. Yet, as the silence stretched on, he realized he was growing… frustrated. Was this the end? Had she given up? Had she finally realized that she had been writing to someone who was untouchable, someone who had no interest in the fragile, fleeting emotions of love?

It was late one evening when he returned to his dorm after a long day of plotting and maneuvering. He opened the door to his room, and there, resting on his bed, was another letter.

But this one was different.

The handwriting was familiar. It was the same as before, but this time, there was something else. Something more direct. More honest.

"Tom,

I can’t hide from this anymore. I’ve been writing to you for weeks, pouring my heart into these letters, and yet, you still don’t know who I am. Maybe that’s a part of me I never wanted to reveal, but I can’t keep pretending. I’m YN YLN. You’ve been reading my words, and now I want you to see me.

I’m not perfect. I’m not like the others who crave your attention, who will do anything to be near you. But I’ve never been able to stop thinking about you. From the first moment I saw you, I knew there was something about you. Something I couldn’t explain.

And now, I’m standing before you. Will you accept me? Or will you push me away like you’ve done with everyone else?"

Tom’s breath caught in his throat as he read the letter. His thoughts spiraled. YN. So that was her name. This wasn’t just some foolish infatuation after all. This was real. This was… genuine.

He stood frozen for a moment, the letter crumpling slightly in his hand.

The game had changed.

Tom stared at the letter, his sharp eyes scanning the words for meaning, for any indication that he was being played. But there was nothing in her handwriting that suggested dishonesty. YN. Her name was simple, unremarkable, and yet the moment he saw it, it felt like a key had turned in his mind. This was no longer just a game, no longer some childish correspondence. No. This was real. The walls Tom had built around himself began to crack, ever so slightly, as his thoughts tumbled over themselves.

He had known, on some level, that this was coming. He had felt it in the tone of her letters, in the way her words had begun to shift from worship to something deeper, more dangerous. He had played his part in their little dance, baiting her, pushing her boundaries, testing the waters. He had wanted to see how far she would go—how much of herself she would give. And she had given him everything.

But now… now she had taken it one step further. She was no longer hiding behind the veil of anonymity. She was standing before him, vulnerable, exposing herself to him in a way no one else ever had.

Her confession had been straightforward, unembellished, as though she was laying bare a piece of her soul. And in that moment, Tom realized something he hadn’t anticipated. It wasn’t just about power, or control, or winning. This wasn’t some mindless pursuit. This was a connection, one that he couldn’t control. That realization gnawed at him, sending a ripple of unease through his chest.

For the first time, Tom Riddle didn’t have all the answers.

He took a step toward the window and let the letter fall from his hand, the parchment drifting softly to the floor. His eyes focused on the dark expanse of the grounds outside, but his mind was far from the peaceful, mist-covered landscape. It was consumed with the girl who had sent him these letters. YN. A name, a face—finally. He could almost picture her now, her eyes, the way she must have written each word with such care, such fear.

The very idea of someone daring to feel so deeply for him both repelled and fascinated him. What had she seen in him, in the cold, calculating Tom Riddle? The one who had built walls so high that even the most persistent attempts to scale them were doomed to failure? Why had she, of all people, chosen him?

He walked over to the desk, his long fingers brushing the edge of the drawer where he had kept her previous letters. Each one a fragment of something he could never fully grasp. And yet, here she was. His admirer. His equal, perhaps. Someone who had outsmarted him, pulled him into a game he hadn’t even realized he was playing.

He ran a hand through his dark hair and sat down in his chair, his eyes falling on the letter once more. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting—an answer? A revelation? But all he could think of, all he could hear in the silence of the room, was her final question.

Will you accept me?

Tom had never known acceptance. At least, not in the way YN seemed to mean it. He was a man who had built his life around rejection—both his rejection of others and their rejection of him. But YN… YN had refused to be cast aside. She had fought for his attention, and in a way, she had earned it.

But could he give her what she wanted?

The next morning, Tom was awake before the sun, a habit he had maintained throughout his time at Hogwarts. His usual morning routine was mechanical, precise, but today, something was different. He found himself replaying her letter over and over in his mind, hearing the tremor of her voice in his head as if she had spoken the words aloud.

She had bared her soul to him, and all he had given her in return were cold, calculated responses. Was he capable of something more? Was he capable of meeting her honesty with his own?

He hadn’t decided when he arrived at the Great Hall for breakfast. As he sat down at the Slytherin table, his eyes swept the room, and for the first time, he let them linger. He searched the faces around him, looking for someone, anyone who might give him a clue. Who could she be? The girl who had written to him with such fervor, who had laid her heart at his feet without hesitation.

It didn’t take long for him to find her.

At the far end of the hall, sitting with her friends, YN was eating quietly. Her long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing her face in a way that almost seemed too delicate for the sharpness of her eyes. She was quiet, her usual smile absent, replaced by a faraway look as though her mind was elsewhere. Tom couldn’t look away.

For a moment, his gaze was fixed on her, and though she hadn’t noticed him yet, he could feel the connection between them, pulling at him like an invisible thread.

And then, as though sensing his attention, she looked up.

Their eyes met across the vast expanse of the room, and time seemed to slow. Her expression was unreadable, but her gaze was steady. There was no fear, no hesitation. Just a quiet strength in the way she held his gaze. In that moment, something shifted in Tom.

It wasn’t just about the letters anymore. It wasn’t about her yearning or his amusement at the game. It was something deeper, something that he couldn’t quite define.

He broke the stare first, his heart unexpectedly racing as he returned to his food, though his appetite had suddenly vanished. His fingers tightened around the edge of his plate, and his thoughts swirled with possibilities.

It was late that afternoon when Tom found himself walking through the halls, his footsteps echoing in the silence. He had thought long and hard about the letter, about YN, and what he was willing to do.

He had told her that he was curious. But now, as he rounded a corner and saw her standing there, waiting near a set of old classrooms, he realized that his curiosity had turned into something else entirely.

She stood still, her eyes locked on his, waiting for him. He hadn’t asked for this—he hadn’t asked for her to be so brave, so open—but there she was. She had stripped away every defense, every mask, and she was waiting for him to make the next move. To give her an answer.

"YN," Tom said her name for the first time, his voice cold but laced with something else—a tremor, a hesitation he hadn’t known he was capable of. He wasn’t sure if it was fear or something else, but it was there.

Her eyes softened at the sound of her name, and she stepped forward. “Tom, I—”

Before she could say anything else, Tom closed the distance between them, his hand rising instinctively to touch her arm. The contact was brief, but the electricity between them was undeniable. He could feel her pulse beneath his fingertips, steady but quick. She was nervous. She had to be. But Tom wasn’t sure what he was feeling. What did it mean when someone looked at you like they trusted you completely, without question? He had never been trusted before—not in this way.

“I didn’t think you would actually come,” YN whispered, her voice barely audible. “I thought you would reject me.”

Tom looked at her with a mixture of amusement and something softer, more contemplative. “I’m not the type to reject someone like you.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion, and Tom couldn’t help but smirk, leaning in slightly. He wanted to kiss her, and yet, he held back. Instead, he let his words sink in.

“You’ve made your feelings clear, YN. Now it’s my turn to decide.”

She opened her mouth, but he silenced her with a single finger to her lips. “You don’t need to say anything more. I already know. But you’ll have to wait. Wait until I decide whether I’ll accept this… or if I’ll destroy it.”

For a moment, her eyes shone with uncertainty, but then they darkened with resolve. She nodded, as though knowing this was all part of the game he had set in motion. And maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t afraid of losing.

And that made all the difference.

Tom Riddle had always been a master of control. But YN had something that even he couldn’t quite manipulate. She had a way of making him feel—of making him question whether he was as invincible as he thought.

He didn’t know what would happen next. But he knew that he wasn’t done with her yet.

[incorrectquotesharrypotterv]

Y/n: *Gives a bouquet to Tom*

Tom: You know I'm allergic.

Y/n: That's the point.

[lenoraslament]

Masterlist

Hello! Welcome to the Masterlist!

My name doesn’t matter. Insatiable Slytherin gal. Pisces ENFJ. Morally ambiguous characters are ✨

I am now taking requests. I write for Slytherin boys mainly but I can also write for Bridgerton and Gilmore Girls.

One shots are at the bottom

First are posts related to my three part Tom Riddle Fanfiction. All three parts are on my Wattpad

* indicates smut

^ indicates romance

+ indicates dark themes/angst

Lenora was cold, smart and cunning. Until. Until that night. Two mudbloods stole something from her, a piece of her she couldn't get back. She finds solace and healing in the unlikely ally of her longtime acquaintance Tom Riddle.

Wattpad Link

Chapter 9 Excerpt: Insolence +

Chapter 12 excerpt: Moment in the Library ^

Chapter 16 excerpt: Apparating ^

Chapter 20: Pleasure *^

Chapter 23 Excerpt: Malfoy Ball ^

Chapter 28 Excerpt: Good Girl ^ (*in the Wattpad chapter)

Chapters 33&34: Revenge and Satisfaction *^+

Chapter 35: Aftermath ^*

Chapter 36: Make Me Forget *

Chapter 38: Punish Me *+

Book 2 Lenora’s Love:

Lenora was Tom Riddles everything. Until he had to Obliviate her memory. Now they are brought together for the summer, as he continues to build his dark legacy the death eaters. Their love is inevitable; even with Cygnus Black trying to intervene. Will the truth out?

This book whole chapters cross posted to Tumblr but if you want to read on Wattpad

Part 1 Summary / Say Yes to Heaven ^

Lenora arrives at the Malfoy Lakehouse and leaves Tom breathless

The Rose Garden ^

Tom watches Lenora from afar much to the chagrin of Abraxas

Why Not Tom Riddle

Lenora wonders about the change in Tom Riddle not realizing she was obliviated

Hard to Resist^

Cygnus grows closer to Lenora

Firestarter +

Lenora accidentally reminds everyone just how powerful she is

Worth It +

Tom and Cygnus duel, Abraxas confronts Lenora

Flawless ^

Tom continues to confuse Lenora, Delia appears for the first time since the Malfoy Christmas Ball

Strumpets *^

Lenora catches Tom doing something unsavory, she pushes to be a deatheater

Overprotective

Lenora tries her best to be respectful and discovers something useful

Lust Potion *^

Delia gets revenge on Lenora, Tom tries his best to resist Lenora

Despair +

After being humiliated by Delia, Lenora wants to prove herself as a deatheater no matter the cost

I Love You ^+

Tom nearly loses Lenora for good.

Pain is a Price +

The long term repercussions of Lenora’s potion are discovered

High and Mighty

Tom proves his leadership while being absolutely faded.

Flowers for a Lady ^

Lenora is made a deatheater but isn’t sure what to make of this new side of Tom.

Dowries and Dark Marks +^

Tom tries to figure out how to get Cygnus Black out of his hair as they both chase after Lenora

Pillow Fight +^

Cygnus Black wishes Lenora goodbye, making her lash out at Tom Riddle

Tawdry ^

Lenora forgives Tom and then is forced to play the temptress

Make Me ^

Tension finally comes to a head between Tom and Lenora at the lake

Cozy^

They simply can’t stay away from eachother.

Crash Into Me^

Tom and Lenora continue to push and pull, Abraxas catches them

Tom Riddle the Romantic ^

Tom Riddle goes way out of comfort zone

A Proper Date ^

Tom and Lenora finally have a real date

Anchored*

Lenora wants more from Tom than his horcrux

How it Always Should Have Been*^

Tom and Lenora make love

Time Doesn’t Bow^

A snapshot into 6 months of bliss as Tom and Lenora stay together

Lying *

Cygnus Black returns, Lenora catches Tom in a lie

Disillusionment +

Lenora learns the truth of everything that happened before Tom obliviated her

I Lost You+

Tom’s proposal goes awry, Lenora gets revenge

I Hate You+

Lenora broke Tom’s heart but he gets the last word.

One shots

Tom Riddle

Hot Mess Part 1

Hot Mess Part 2 *

Infatuated

Careful What You Wish For *

Mattheo Riddle

Careful What You Wish For *

Theo Nott

Some Plumber ^*

Lorenzo Berkshire

Finally Requited pt 1

Slytherin Boys React

Perfume Preferences

How they would Overstimulate You*

Edging Orgasm Denial *

You took Lust Potion *

Romantic Moments ^

Free Use *

Dance with Me ^

[beegomess]

T.R. || The girl who came from hell

Summary:Tom really thought he was above you, but that ends when you realize that you need to put him in his place. Warnings: Just a little toxic relationship.

Requests are open!

Tom's interest in you began in the fifth year at Hogwarts. You were almost like a reflection of him: Slytherin, studious and astute, determined to achieve her goals. The difference between you, however, was in the fact that you had the inheritance that mattered: your last name, power, contacts and money, all coming from your family without any effort.

The approach began during a task of Potions. Since then, they have started to walk together and share their plans. Tom, of course, knew that approaching you was advantageous for his ambitions, initially motivated by pure interest. Over time, the interests of both also became carnal, and soon you were a couple. But make no mistake, you were not naive, maybe you knew Tom better than anyone at Hogwarts and understood the meaning of all that, but you wouldn't mind as long as you had control over it.

His father, however, hated this union at the beginning. Tom didn't have the pure blood so valued by his family, he didn't have the money or an influential family. However, Tom's charm, combined with his ability to persuade, ended up changing the man's opinion. This gave Riddle a renewed confidence, leading him to be possessive with you, in an attempt to ensure that only he could enjoy the prestige and power that his relationship provided.

However, the fact that they are similar in everything, including this, was what made them get closer and fall in love, in the most toxic sense of the word. You thought he saw you as an equal, who respected you in the same way, but you were wrong, and came to discover it in a disgusting way.

You began to notice the way some girls looked at Riddle, and he, being a man, could barely disguise his interactions in his eyes even more attentive, who saw every look given by him to the body of another, every disappearance during the day. It wasn't frequent, but it was remarkable. And today, you expected to put him in his place finally, already possessed with the way you heard a girl bragging about him in the bathroom.

For you, it was fun to provoke him from time to time, flirt with another boy and make him angry with anger. But never, ever, have they gone from silly flirts. You believed that they should be loyal to each other, after all, they had much bigger plans and if they couldn't trust each other, none of that would make sense. Tom, on the other hand, thought he used you, that he had you in the palm of his hand. You were beautiful, and your family definitely helped you in many ways, but he never really took you seriously. Tom needed to think like that, he needed it because that way he would be someone.

And then, in that fateful afternoon, when, when passing through one of the empty classrooms looking for him, you saw, through the small slit of the door, the image of an ordinary student kneeling in front of Riddle, who in turn had her belt and pants open.

His eyes were not filled with tears, but with a deep hatred that was born there. You liked the possessiveness and it was definitely not like that with him, a strange and somewhat sickly relationship that you simply liked, it was almost like a cat and mouse hunt. But maybe I had to bring limits to this game now, maybe Tom didn't really know you as you imagined.

Your heels took you to the interior of the classroom, the shoes echoing on the stone floor, scaring the two present. The girl quickly moved away from Tom, who dressed calmly and waved for her to leave.

Tom's face remained neutral, without any blush or expression of regret.

- It's not the first time this has happened, is it? - His face had a sarcastic smile on his face, frighteningly quiet.

- No. - He replied simply, approaching you slowly, with his hands in his pockets. - I thought you didn't mind, honey. Aren't you the one who keeps flirting with other boys? - Tom smiled slightly, provoking a penetrating look coming from you.

- I've never had sex with any of them. - You paused, holding Tom's hand and pulling him out of the room on a slow walk. - But I'm curious, aren't you satisfied with me, Tommy? - A false sadness dyed your words as you stared at him in the hallway when you were stopped by him.

- Of course I am, dear. You shouldn't have seen that. I'm sorry. - Tom rolled his eyes internally, irritated by the amount of questions, but excellent at lying, saying what he thought you would like to hear to finally get rid of his visible and exaggerated drama.

- That's good, love. But spare me your empty excuses, Tommy, I don't like them lying to me. - Your body approached, still holding your boyfriend's hand and with a gentle smile, continuing your speech. - Just be careful that I don't get tired of you. You wouldn't want that.

His false kindness made Tom's face squirm in fury. He hated being threatened and would not accept being challenged in that way, especially coming from someone he believed to have full control.

- Come on, Tom. We know that you need me more than I need you. That's no secret to anyone, love. - You kissed him on the cheek, running your hands around his neck, watching as a spark of hatred appeared in your eyes.

Those who saw it from the outside could swear that you were swearing your love to each other, given the soft touches and false, but extremely convincing smiles, that you directed to him.

- I don't need to... - Tom started, but his voice interrupted him quickly.

- Yes, you need to. After all, what are you without me, Tommy? Nothing... - You digred. - You don't have the blood, you don't have the money, you don't have the power, nothing. You're nothing but me, dear. And it annoys me to have to say that, but I see that you still don't understand.

Tom felt a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within himself. He, who had always been proud of being undisturbed and cold, now found himself trapped in a network of feelings that he could not control. The wounded pride and anger mixed with a new and disconcerting feeling: insecurity. Never before had anyone challenged his authority and exposed his vulnerability in this way.

As his words echoed in his mind, he felt the control over the situation slip through his fingers. The certainty of his superiority seemed to fall apart, replaced by a painful realization of his dependence on you. He needed you more than he was willing to admit, and that consumed him from the inside out.

- Do you really think you can threaten me like this? - He murmured, his voice loaded with a contained poison as he squeezed one of his arms, taking you to the dark side of the hallway. - You think you know me so well, but you have no idea what I'm capable of doing.

- I'm not threatening you, Tommy. I'm just making it clear how much you need me. - Your voice came out with coldness and a still feigned kindness making him even more angry, his eyes fixed on his, challenging him to deny the truth.

Tom felt the anger boil, but at the same time, a part of him recognized the veracity in the words you said. He couldn't stand the idea of being seen as weak, but there, in front of you, his invulnerability mask was about to fall.

- You may be right. - He admitted with great reluctance, his lips contracting in a fine line. - But never forget, Y/N, that I also know how to play this game. And I don't intend to lose.

You smiled, a smile that mixed triumph and compassion.

- I never expected you to lose, love. I just want you to realize that this game is not just yours. And maybe, if you allow yourself, we can play together. - Your body is released from the grip, depositing a kiss on Tom's lips, feeling all the cold and anger that echoed from him. - Just don't forget that. - You add with a serious face, but soon forming a smile.

With these words, you turned around, leaving Tom alone in the hallway, wrapped in his own reflections and conflicts. He knew that, as much as he hated to admit it, you were the only one who could challenge and balance your world. And, deep down, maybe that's exactly what he needed.

Tom stood there for a moment, watching you move away with decisive steps. His gaze followed every movement of his body as he disappeared in the darkness of the corridor. The discussion had left a bitter taste in his mouth, a mixture of resentment and a strange intensity of desire.

He would never admit it out loud, but the way you challenged him, the way you messed with him, aroused something deep inside Tom. It was as if every confrontation, every exchange of words was a spark that lit the fire he tried to keep under control.

As he revived his words in his mind, Tom felt a mixture of frustration and a growing admiration for his cunning. You knew exactly how to press the right buttons, how to put it against the wall and make it question your own strength and control.

A sigh escaped from his lips as he ran his hand through his hair, trying to lighten the tumultuous thoughts. I couldn't deny that there was something magnetic in you, something that attracted and irritated you at the same time. But love, in the traditional sense, seemed like an unknown and unattainable territory for both. Their lives were dominated by ambitious goals, by the incessant search for power and control, which often shocked and drove them away.

Riddle saw the desire grow within him, not only for his body, but also for the sharp mind and the ambitious goals they shared. It was an attraction based on a kind of admiration, in the tacit understanding of each other's ambitions.

With a resigned sigh, Tom began to walk in the opposite direction to his. It was not the time to surrender to physical desire or to get lost in the traps of possessiveness. It was time to find a way that would take you away from the reins you controlled.

Maybe that moment served you in some way, Tom was starting to see her closer to his own pedestal. However, he wouldn't admit any of that out loud and much less mentally. At that moment he had two conflicting feelings: an absurd desire to get you out of the way or simply nestle in your body, a moment when only he had control, even if this control was consented by you.

______________________________________

masterlist here A/N: I hope you enjoyed this new perspective. I wanted to do something different since I always see Tom coming out on top, haha xoxo, bee✨🫶🏼

[daenakills]

His dark eyes.

Tom riddle x fem!reader

part 1

part 2. i will make more so don't worry this is kind of short. english isn't my first language so lmk there's any mistake. this is for fun.

You calmly wrote down your assigned potion's homework. Slughorn always found a way to assign tasks that, although they seemed difficult at the beginning, ended up being easy, and you even got a reward at the end. That was your favourite part.

The door opened suddenly, revealing a slightly upset Tom, which wasn't strange but at the same time, when you consider it, it was. He usually didn't show it so openly, you realized you knew him completely, or at least that's what you thought.

“I notice you're upset, my love.” Anyone who heard this phrase that you had addressed to Tom would have thought that it was just a loving nickname, but he knew perfectly well it was just irony. “Has something happened?” In response, he slowly turned his head to look at you.

“Where are my books?”

“I don't know, probably in your room. I highly doubt they're here. Besides, I cannot understand how you manage to get into the ladies room.” He ignored your question, and started searching through your clothes and things. No matter how much you could tell him to stop, you knew he wasn't going to, so you didn't even try. When he finished searching for what he wanted, he left without looking back.

It was depressing. It was depressing knowing that you were being used, and you cursed the day you decided to confess to Tom Riddle. Likewise, it had been almost a year. You could have had such a nice future, maybe fallen in love and married one of your classmates, but no, you decided to confess to the psychopath. You hoped that one day you could travel back to yesterday and return unscathed. Curled up in your bed, you allowed yourself to cry, and your voice was never louder.

Already in the dining room, with your mind blank and already recovered (not completely) from your little cry, the girls were trying to find conversations with you. You were wondering why. Usually when they talked to you, it was to get information from you about something that interested them. In fact, before becoming Tom's girlfriend you had never talked to so many people, apparently they didn't find you interesting. You kept questioning yourself internally what they wanted from you until one of them finally made her intentions clear.

“And… we were all wondering if you've had… you know, with Tom.” You were stunned. He had not prepared you for that type of question, and not in a thousand years would you have been able to answer it. The others who were around told that girl, Martha, to have a little more filter when she talked about those things.

The truth was that you hadn't had your first time, not even with Simón, he died before they could make that breakthrough. Everyone in your class had already had relationships with their boyfriends, and it was logical that those who were single (and those who were not also) were interested in knowing how good the beloved Tom Riddle was in bed. Obviously, you couldn't tell them that you felt an extreme repulsion towards the man who was your boyfriend, since that would completely damage their plan to deceive the professor. That prompted you to find him and ask him a question.

“Do we really need to stick with the plan?”

You had taken a while to look for him but when you found him he was talking to Professor Slughorn about a topic you didn't know about. Tom said goodbye to Slughorn, saying that he was going to attend to his beautiful girlfriend. You wondered if he was the teacher Tom talked so much about.

“Obviously, we must continue with the plan, dear.” He said with that voice that used to drive you crazy. “Why are you asking now? Is there another Simon out there?” He laughed sarcastically, you hated that laugh since you knew it wasn't genuine, it was genuine mockery and that was another topic.

“I just think everyone already understood that you love, you don't need me any more.” While you were saying those words you fixed your eyes on the floor, your gaze did not connect with his, it intimidated you to look at him. His penetrating gaze activated all the alarms in your body, telling you to leave, that something bad was going to happen. But you stayed to wait for his response.

“Okay. Let's do it, let's finish it. I can easily find a replacement. Do not think you're the only one. You're not, you're just another one of the bunch, who they are just going to use and throw away when they get what they want from you. People like you will not survive in the world I am going to create.” Your eyes were flooding with tears, you didn't want to blink since you knew that if you did, the sea of ​​tears would come to light. “Stop crying, you know I hate seeing you cry!” He grabbed your face and crushed it in his hands, “You look horrible when you cry, you look weak, and you lose the only notable quality you have.” He finally let go of you. Adjusted his robe and left, leaving you alone with yourself.

Already there, in your state, you went to your bedroom and sank into the sheets.

The morning of the next day was no better, in class everyone couldn't stop talking about how you and Tom had broken up. Your assumption was that Tom had broken the news to them, and you were right. What perhaps hadn't occurred to you was that he had subverted the story slightly. He had said that he had broken up with you since you were unfaithful with Simon a while ago, but that he refused to accept it. Now, he was the victim of the story, the poor guy who refused to accept that his girlfriend was cheating on him. And you, anyone who dared to deceive him.

Nobody talked to you any more like they did when you were his partner, apparently they no longer found you interesting. That depressed you but not enough to cloud your common sense that told you that it was better to be alone than in bad company. And it was true. Even though no one appreciated you and everyone hated you, you managed to make it to the Easter holidays, even though it seemed like a short time, you needed to go home. You were excited to finally be able to go home freely.

With your bags already packed you were heading towards the exit when Tom arrived at your door.

“Hello.” He said, sitting on your bed as if it were his house.

“Hi.”

“How has your life as a social reject gone?” He smiled arrogantly.

“Well, the time alone has served me well to think and reflect.” You weren't going to let him see you badly, let him see you vulnerable once again.

“I imagine that once again you are going to stay here, I know perfectly well that you don't like being with your parents.” You knew perfectly well that he had already noticed the suitcases, but that he says it to bother you.

“I'll see how I deal with it.” I can't stand being in this castle any more, I'll ask my parents to give me classes at home, I can't stand being at Hogwarts any longer, you thought.

“You're not leaving Hogwarts, you are not going to study in your house,” he said firmly as he got closer and closer to you, until he caught up with you and choked me, pushing me against the nearest wall. “You know, I've let you be alone for a while because I think you need it, but I swear, you're never going to be free of me. Never. Do you understand me?” You nodded repeatedly, waiting for him to release you. When you had got out of his grasp, he picked you up and threw you against the bed, forcing you to give him your arm. You had already let him do whatever he wanted so that he would finally leave you alone.

And at that moment, with a knife that you had no idea where he had got it from, he marked your left arm, leaving a line of blood on you.

You could tell he was going to do something else if he hadn't been interrupted by the knock on the door. Alarmed that he would be upset by the interruption, you decided to stay silent and not respond.

“ Are you there? I need your help to fill out some paperwork!" Oh, god, it was your classmate Samantha, she didn't usually talk to you about those things, but it seemed like she did now.

“Don't even dare answer.” Tom murmured putting his hand over my mouth once more.

After a while Samantha stopped knocking on the door and left. It was then that Tom finally let go of you.

“You're going to finish your school year whether you like it or not.” You were left dumbfounded in your room, you were trying to understand Tom's outburst, but you couldn't. Couldn't understand how someone felt a pathological need to ruin lives.

You grabbed your suitcases and decided to spend the Easter holidays at home. Where he couldn't reach you, or well, that's what you liked to think.