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nepentheansea · 9 months ago

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Pacify Her

𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ・𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝑷𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑼𝒏𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆

premise: The devil was real, and you were prepared to do anything for him.

pairing: Professor Tom Riddle x Fem!Reader

warnings: dark elements, toxic obsessions, possession (but not the scary supernatural kind) smut (p in v-fingering-etc) tom riddle (his own warning) there is probably a lot more...

wc: 4.2k

a/n: this is beautiful and I don't care if you don't agree. shoutout to @demiguisemoon for keeping me company throughout this ride.

enjoy the playlist that I made for this story!

He never truly knew what you were capable of, or more so what his influence would do to you, and that was the problem. He had completely underestimated you, and that would be not only your downfall, but his as well. Pretty and pliant, that's what you were to him, the perfect match, not only intellectually, but emotionally as well. You suited him. From the moment you stumbled into his compartment on the train, down to the moment that you sat down in front of him, not a word muttered, but yet a conversation was had. You understood him, and quite frankly, he understood you, or so he believed.

No one understood him the way you did, the way that you clung to his every word like gospel. Feeding into his absurdities, but never once looking at him as if he was wrong. You supported him. Truth was you were obsessed. Incomplete and broken without him, much like a wounded bird, someone he could fix, take care of, mould into something he wanted, and you lived for it. Lived for the moments that he taught you, helped you, controlled you. The moments where he needed you and only you. At his beck and call in the late hours of the night, or for the favours that could ultimately get you expelled, for anything he wanted, and you’d do it, obediently. You were his. You belonged to him from the first moment, and though neither of you knew it, he belonged to you.

“Is this seat taken?” You asked, slipping into the compartment faster than he could respond, but he didn’t. He pulled his nose from the daily prophet to study you. He had never seen you before, which was odd considering you were in his house, the green and silver snake adoring your breast, a Slytherin, and a pretty one at that, an old soul and kindred spirit…of sorts. There was something in the way you looked at him, that dutiful look in your piercing eyes, a look as if you could see into the deepest darkest depths of his soul, something he was certain he had well hidden, and yet what you saw didn’t alarm you. Somehow it didn’t scare him, it intrigued him, you intrigued him. He watched as you slid the door closed behind your back, before sliding into the seat across from him, hands trapped behind your back, and your head cocked to the side as you studied him. The slightest of smiles on your face. He should have known then, known what you would become to him, but he could never have suspected you to be as such.

Frail and malleable, obsessed and devoted, and you were his. His star, his pet, his property. You grew to need him, unable to do without the moments you shared with him. You found yourself lingering in the back of his classes, hoping that he would catch a fleeting glimpse of you, needing you for something, anything, to utilise you, need you. For the moments that he’d call for you in the late hours of the night, for the small favours that could leave you expelled or worse, with the promise that nothing bad was going to happen to you, he wouldn’t let it. The hours that you spent with him, soon turned to days, weeks, stealing away any moment that you could, eager to please, to be close. Somewhere in the dim candle light of his office, stolen glances, gentle touches, words exchanged. Finding yourself desperate for the after hours of study in the library, the ones where you could find him making his way from the restricted section, his pretty nose stuck within the pages of his books. Knowing you were there, dutifully watching him, waiting for the right opportunity to seek him out or for him to call for you.

Your life had become dull. Classes lacked challenge, you found little to no enjoyment in day to day activities, your friends became distant memories, dramatic, but even your mundane routines lost flavour. All you had was him, and the little periods of time you spent by his side. At his beck and call, seduced by the ways he consumed you. Your mind, your body, and most definitely your tainted soul. He knew it too, knew that he could use you for anything his heart desired, that you would do nothing but obey him, follow blindly if he requested it of you, no questions to be asked. A perfect pawn, follower. The more eager you became, with the incessant need to do more, be more for him, he took to it. Giving you more and more to do. It had soon become a list of tasks, simple favours as he would call it. Hide this, seek out this, do this…And you did, you did all of it.

Your blood rushed as you closed the office door behind you, back pressed against the firm wood, hands clasped behind you, as your eyes scanned the dimly lit room until you found him. In the centre of the room, sat plainly in his chair, eyes roaming your eager figure. He looked as though he sat on a throne, one of his own creation, his arms extended out on the sides of the chair, comfortable and yet cold, observant. “Did you get it?” was all he said, leaning forward over his desk, the faintest traces of a smile on his face when the stifled giggle of yours fleas from your lips. You held it up, in the palms of your small hands presenting it to him, the book he had sent you to find. Restricted, forbidden even, and you had managed it, with his help of course. “Of course.” you whispered. He beckend you over with the bend of two slender fingers, and you moved on your own volition, approaching him with such eagerness. He took the book from your palms, his fingers ghosting over your soft skin, and you wonder if it was on purpose. “Good girl.” There it was, the praise you strove for, the praise that came from him and him only. The slightest flick of his wand had the door clicking locked, as his eyes came to study you once more. There was a fascination in his gaze, the way his eyes softened to you, desperately trying to hide the hunger that he felt towards you. You had something that he had never quite found in anyone else, something that made him crave you more than he had for anyone else…and there it was, the thought that you were his and only his.

His eyes left you, meeting the pages of the book you had stolen for him, consuming every word on the stale worn parchment. While he was entranced, devouring the text, you were devouring the sight of him, leaning over the desk, eyes droning over the pages. He was stunning this way. The crease in his brow, eager to learn, and you were right there with him, desperate to know just what held him so captivated, leaning over his desk in hopes of catching the slightest bit of the contraband he had tasked you with stealing, no concern for what could have happened to you if you had been caught. But you knew that somehow, if that had been the case, he would have protected you, always, he would be there. His eyes darted up from the page, a lustful hunger to them, but for you or for the knowledge he had been enthralled with, you weren’t sure. “Look.” he instructs, slumping back in his chair, gesturing to the page, the hints of a smile on his lips. Clasping your hands behind your back, you leaned over the mahogany desk, feeling the hem of your uniform riding up in the back, exposing yourself to him as you did your best to read what was before you, eyes focussing on the text of ancient runes. It wasn’t of much use, you simply couldn’t read it. “I can’t read it, sir.” you mutter, chancing a look back at him. His eyes were shamelessly crawling up the length of your bare legs, and to the swell of your ass. He had looked at you like this before, that strained look in his eyes, like he was in deep thought but those thoughts were ones that he would never quite say aloud, the smallest of smirks on his lips, as he dragged his tongue along them. “I see..” he remarks, slowly pulling his gaze away from your ass, to meet your much more innocent gaze. It was one of his favourite things to do. To teach you, to watch you learn from him. It gave him the sweetest sense of power and meaning. “And what would you have me do about that, darling?” He leaned forward, his eyes cold and narrowed, but that flick of amusement dancing across them.

“Read it to me?” It was a simple request, your voice strong and confident. You wanted to know, wanted him to show you, and he seemed to like the idea. Tom hummed, a sweet sound of satisfaction, as his slender fingers wrapped around your dainty wrist, pulling you down onto his lap, a gesture he had never quite done before. He was confident in his motions, calculated and collected. He knew what he wanted, and that was you. His hands remained on your hips, fingers drumming on your thighs. “Read it to you, hmm?” He hums, delicately brushing a strand of your hair away from your neck, the tips of his fingers ghosting over your throat. Goosebumps lining your skin, while his other hand trailed slowly up your bare thigh. Gentle touches that were purposeful, and well measured. Even in this, he was in control. In control of himself, and of the situation. “How will you ever learn if I just read it to you?” “Teach me then..” you blurt, your voice had never been so soft, so demanding and yet desperate. “Sir..” you add, looking back at him. His thumb had started to draw soft slow patterns on your inner thigh, dangerously close to your cunt. “Teach you….” You could see that he was mulling it over…”teach you…” he cooed in approval, a sinister grin consuming his face. “Very well, darling, teach you, I shall.” He gave a hearty squeeze to your thigh, your breath hitching and your body tensing for a brief moment in his lap, shifting your attention back to his face. Pretending as if he couldn’t see the way your eyes studied him, the way they seemed to have heart shaped iris that were only for him.

His own gaze was casted past you, eyes scoured the pages before him, looking for something suitable to turn into a lesson. His hands still wandering aimlessly on your skin. “Here…let's start simple…” He leaned back enough, turning to look at you, his breath fanning across your lips from being so close. His eyes trailing up your features until his eyes met yours. “This rune here…” he starts, grasping your jaw with his index and thumb, turning your face, back to the book. “This rune…’othilia’ corresponds to the Latin letter…?” “o.” you state, looking to him for approval, his approval. A soft smile was all he gave you. “And what do you think it means…” His hand, resting under your skirt, had found its way to the crease of your hips and thighs, squeezing at the supple flesh, while his thumb thrummed against your clothed cunt. You found it hard to concentrate, to really look at the shapes on the page, but you had to. “Um…power, wealth?” you tried, letting out a breathy sigh, when his thumb found its way into the damp fabric of your panties, rolling soft circles into your swollen clit. You felt his lips against your ear, your head lulled back against his shoulder. “It means, heritage, possession..” he punctuated the last word with a flick of his thumb, a gesture that had a sweet moan falling from you. With precision he gently rolled his finger over your bud, nipping at your ear with each sweet sound you let out. “Focus….” he coos, drawing your half lidded eyes back to the book. “This one, ‘mannaz’, tell me its correspondent…” Your mind was muddled. He had pulled the wet fabric away from your cunt, traipsing his slender fingers through your folds, collecting your sweet arousal, teasing your entrance as he waited for your response. “Go on…what is it.?” You hummed softly, searching your mind for what it could possibly be. “Um..it’s ‘m’ the latin ‘m’..” you whimpered, feeling the intrusion of a single digit slipping into your sopping heat. He was rewarding you, with each correct response you gave him. “And what does it mean?”

You weren’t sure how much of this he really thought you could handle, not with the way that his finger was slowly thrusting in and out of you, his thumb languidly massaging your tender clit. He was watching you, his own gaze lidded, dark. Hungry. He was enjoying this, enjoying the way that he had you, pulling answers from you with simple touches. “Don't make me stop, what does it mean?” he teases, and yet somewhere in the pit of your stomach, you knew that he would. That he would leave you high and dry at a moment's notice. Your eyes had fallen closed, summoning all of your strength to answer him, as he slipped another finger into you, curling them against your sweet spot, just to feel your breath hitch and your body shutter in his grasp. You could feel the way that his cock had hardened beneath you, kept from you by the confines of his trousers, and it did little to help you focus any, it was cruel. “It means…ma-man?” you gasped out, his pace increasing. His lips met the side of your neck, tenderly kissing every bit of exposed skin that he was presented with, careful not to leave a single mark on that delicate skin of yours. “Very good..” he coos, his hot breath felt on your neck and ear. His fingers toyed relentlessly with your aching cunt, his thumb circling your clit gently, and his lips littering chaste kisses to your exposed skin. He had quickly given up on the lesson at hand, now far too consumed in the way that you were writhing happily in his grasp, soft sweet sounds escaping past your lips. Your back arched into him, your head resting on his shoulder as you lost all coherency. Lewd sounds left you like a sinful prayer, trickling past your lips with no real power to stop them.

You whined, feeling the emptiness in your cunt as he pulled his fingers from you, only to have them brought up to your chapped lips, as he slid not one but both fingers into your mouth, pressing down on the pad of your tongue. A silent order, to taste yourself, to clean up the mess that you had made, and you did without hesitation, closing your lips around them, letting your tongue lap up any and all of the arousal that coated his fingers. He cooed, sweet and simple praises, between delicate chaste kisses to your neck. His free hand wanders the expanse of your neck, down to the top of your blouse, deftly popping the buttons one by one. His touch was featherlight, a mere ghost over your skin, and such a thing allowed for goosebumps to litter your skin. His thumb circles your nipple through your thin bra, smiling against your neck as it perks at his touch. He loved the possession he had over your body, the way you would let him do whatever to it as if it was his own, and you would argue that it was. That it belonged to him, that you belonged to him.

You weren’t sure when it changed, the suddenness of it all, but you found yourself being gently laid down against the hard polished wood of his desk, your back draping over the materials he had been studying, and your skirt pushed up your waist. His body hovered over yours, his hands gliding up under the blouse that he had worked open, greedily exploring the exposed skin, his head ducked and lips ghosting over the spot his hands had touched mere seconds ago. Your eyes had fallen shut somewhere along the way, relying on your other senses completely. Gentle kisses, soft bites, and languid movements of his tongue as he dragged it up your sternum and neck, taking in the sweet smell and taste of your delicate skin. You arched into his touches, soft sweet sounds escaping you at every one. Each of your senses flooded with nothing but him. His lips were pending over yours, a silent acknowledgement, that everything would be on his terms, and you were okay with it.

He didn’t bother to kiss you, and you didn’t request it of him either.

Tom made quick work of removing his trousers, before his hands slid up your thighs, fingers ghosting over your cunt, teasing you just enough to keep you present in the moment. He hooked his fingers over your panties and pulled them aside, the cool air hitting your bare cunt, a soft hiss escaping your lips. With his free hand, Tom wrapped his slender fingers around your chin, using his index and thumb to pull your face up to his. His eyes were cold, animalistic desire dwelling past the dark shade of brown. He tilted your head down so that you could watch the way his swelling cock slid into your tight cunt, forcing you to understand that he owned you, now in body as well.

Your mouth hung open in a silent gasp, the unrelenting feeling of him stretching you out was nothing shy of pain, but a sweet sweet pleasure. He watched your face, mocking the way you fell silent, with a sly smirk to his perfect lips. He forced you to watch every sinful inch of him disappear deep into your greedy cunt, time and time again. He wanted you to understand, to grasp the claim he had on you. You were being rewarded for your diligence, for your obedience, and he wanted you to know that you were his, only his. No one else could touch you like this, that's what he was saying to you.

Tom let go of your face, as he gripped your hips, jerking you towards the edge of the table. Your hands fall back to support you, arching your back slightly as you watch him with lidded eyes. As he moved, his pace picking up with each passing moment, you began to lose yourself to the delicious drag of his heavy cock, your sinful mantra of moans and whimpers filling the dark empty spaces of his office. His fingers gripping onto the soft pliable flesh of your thigh and hip was bruising, another simple yet effective reminder of who you belonged to.

He watched each little tick of your face, each pleasure filled twitch of your lips as you fought off a smile at the feeling of him, taking in each little puff of air that left your parted lips, each pant and moan of satisfaction. He coaxed nothing but the best out of you, building your release at his own desire, his own pace. Your head fell back, your eyes falling closed as you did. You were consumed by the feeling of him and your body was reacting to it in the only way it knew how.

You felt his hand leave your thigh first, before feeling it wrap around your throat, his long slender fingers wrapping around the curve of your jaw, as he willed you to look at him once more.

“You keep those pretty little eyes of yours…on me,” he whispered forcefully. There was no room for mistake, you would watch him as he possessed every part of you. He controlled it all, and you’d let him, you’d let him do it forever.

That's when it all changed.

He had been sweet seduction, and the thought alone drew you closer….until she came along. Professor. Hawkethorn had never been his match, not the way you were. She didn’t understand him, she didn’t see him for what he truly was. She had fallen trap to his charm, and that was only the surface. You watched it happen, your late night sessions with him faded, he seemingly didn’t need you as much, and he gave not even the slightest inkling why. He said nothing, entertained nothing, did, nothing. His time seemed occupied, but not by you, by her. Selvine Hawkethrone, the new history of magic professor.

Fine, checkmate. He didn’t want to see you? then you would make him. See you at your fullest, see that you were always there, that you had never left, and more importantly, that you were still very much his to possess.

He needed to see you, not her. He had no business with her, she wouldn’t do the things that you did for him, you were certain of that. She was only a disruption, a threat to what you guys shared, and she had to go. You wanted to show him your devout loyalty, the extremes that you were willing to go to keep him, to protect him, to *serve* him, and so you would.

You sat in *his* chair, his office dark and cold, nothing that you minded, as you waited…waited to hear the sound of polished heels clack on in the smooth stone outside the door. You pulse steady as the door opens, a small sliver of light filling the room.

“Tom?” her soft voice echoed off the shelves of books, as she warily stepped inside. Once the door was shut, you waved your wand lazily, the candles that surrounded his office springing to life with a dull crackle. Her eyes met yours immediately, and they widened almost as if they had seen something they shouldn’t have. She looked fearful. You had a crazed look in your eyes, as you looked over her in silence. She was pathetic, dressed in her best clothes as if she was expecting to meet Professor Riddle, and that's exactly what you had told her, in your little letter. Told her to meet you here, that you desired to see her, all pretending to be your dear dear professor, and she fell for it. Pathetic.

“You don’t deserve him….” you said, your tone hollow, as you watched her flinch slightly. “Did you really think that he would want you? Send for you? Come on Selvine…you have more sense than that…” you continued, pulling yourself to stand up, walking around the desk, your fingers taunting the flame of the candle. “Professor…you were never going to be his match, his equal…he is destined for great things and you were never going to be the one to help him fulfil that…your just….” You gestured to her with the tip of your wand as if to say something cruel, your face contorted in disgust. “Weak, you're just plain….ordinary…” you said, a mock tone of pity, your face in a frown.

Selvine said nothing, but reached for her wand slowly, not sure what to expect from you, but you saw it…”ah ah ah, don’t do that..” you warned. You were now pointing your wand directly at her, your grip firm and unwavering. You take a deep breath, tired of this moment…Selvine opened her mouth to say something but you were quick to silence her, ”Save it professor, you shouldn’t touch things that aren’t yours.”

You flicked your wrist and a green jet of light bursted out of the tip of your wand without remorse. You watched with glassy, transfixed eyes as her lifeless body crumbled to the floor with a thump. The simple unforgivable curse stealing what small pathetic life she had out of her. She was gone. Dead. you lowered your wand to your side, and stood there, slightly shocked by what you had done.

Tom had slipped out from a dark corner of his office, one where he had stood, watching the entire thing transpire before his eyes. His cold gaze watching you as he approached. Your eyes snapped up to meet him, startled, and unaware that he had been watching the entire time..but that meant that he had seen it, seen the lengths you would go to just for him. You had used the unforgivable curse, for him, something that you had never done before.

You felt yourself soften, at his appearance, as he stepped over the lifeless body like it was nothing but scum beneath his foot as he approached you. Gripping your chin like a child as he pulled you to meet his gaze. He almost looked pleased, a small sense of approval in his tepid gaze.

“You can't tell anyone, Professor, I did this for you...she was a threat, and I took care of it, I killed her for you...for us.” you pleaded softly, scared that you had upset him.

The darkness he lurked in had always been seductive, and when he held out his hand to guide you, how could you say no. You followed, eyes never leaving his, entranced by the beauty of it all, the beauty of the power and knowledge that he possessed. And he was going to share it all with you. It was then that you knew, the devil was real, and you were prepared to do anything for him. “I won’t tell anyone, it's our little secret.”

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slytherinboysvip · 8 months ago

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Controlling Tom Riddle

Honestly idk what to classify this as, but it’s kinda like idk.. deranged? maybe not but I have more like this up my sleeve if it does well (TW: manipulation, unspoken gaslighting, extremely controlling, idk what else to add)

You loved Tom. You truly, truly did. But he tended to take the term "I just want to lock you up" a little too seriously.

I mean, it wasn’t much at first, barely even noticeable in fact. Simple things such as suggesting what you should wear, insisting the more modest options were much more flattering on you; “It brings out your eyes, doll.”

He would remind you of your favorite foods, and when to and when not to eat them.. “Not now, it’s far too late for late night snacks. However, I have something I think might suffice for you.”

Overtime the helpful things became him controlling everything you wore, no shirts were allowed to be low enough cut for anyone to see down- tall people included. You wanted to comfortably wear your uniform? Absolutely not. It had to be perfect, and to show just how much of a “good girl” you are for him, you get cute bows in your hair every morning; special spell from him.

His behavior didn’t bother you, how could it? Yes you couldn’t wear certain things, but everything you got in return was amazing. Nobody understands him the way you do, they don’t know him like you do. That’s what you’re constantly telling your friends. “You don’t know him like I do. He’s romantic.”

Romance? It really is funny how blurry the lines get between romance and control, dress up per se? Once again with the dressing you- believe me, he spoils your beyond belief. Though, most of it is “My eyes only.” Slowly your closet went from things you’ve gotten from friends, shirts you once loved, to everything Tom approved.

It didn’t matter though, because he still spoils you.

Being in class was an entirely different story. In the beginning you simply couldn’t speak to any other guys, you understood, not wanting him interacting with girls either it seemed fair. Until you couldn’t sit with any of them, problem being, its not like you can just chose where you sit everytime. That doesn’t matter to Tom though, “You seemed to betray me today hun.” Nice name, yet the tone anything but.

It was pretty sudden when Tom just happened to to become your seating partner in every single class, and yes, that somehow included ones he once hadn’t attended. But this was a good thing. You got to be with your boyfriend all day long, that’s so exciting. Watching your every move, telling you what you did wrong on your work “Can’t have a dumb girl, can I doll?”

It was sweet. He was being helpful, you always had help. Just don’t ask for too much, then that makes you stupid, idiotic, dense. That’s according to him though, and yes his words. “Honestly, I don’t know what you’d do without me, you’re just so mindless most of the time. It’s infuriating”

But no matter what it’s always okay because, “You know I never mean what I say, Love. I’ll take you out, even buy you something new”

You see, none of this happened quickly. It was like one moment you controlled your life, the next moment you didn’t. You lived in his dorm, once again don’t ask how, Tom Riddle has his ways. He chose your outfits the days no uniforms were needed, but of course only because “I just love picking out what my girl wears, you love it too, don’t you, hm?”

Now here you are, unable to speak to anyone really, no boys, no friends because well, they only attract unwanted male attention of course. It was crazy to think you’d leave your friends behind for a boy, not just your friends really more like your entire old life, but Tom wasn’t just any boy. No, he had full control over you and you both knew it. You loved it.

I know im saying idk a lot but idk how i feel about this 😭😭

once again i hope you all enjoy <33

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cloudiewrites · 9 months ago

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OMG. Hiiii. I love Tom Riddle and Theodore Nott. So I am totally going to ask you if you are comfortable to write either Professor Tom or a Professor Theo x fem reader fic with smut. Feel free to ignore this but I really struggle to find Professor Tom fics and Idk how to write them 😅

Professor Tom Riddle x f!reader

Warnings: strong language, toxic behaviour, manipulation, SMUT reader is a student in the beginning (still over 18!), reader becomes a little bit unhinged towards the middle (who wouldn't after meeting TR?) 18+MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Author's Note: Wow, this took me ages to post! I was having a break from this blog due to my exams, but I promise I will be more active from now on. Also, this is actually my first smut! (Idk how to write them either, so I do hope you like it.) I tried to build some plot into it, so it is not just filthy p*rn, haha. Thank you so much for your request! <3

There are moments that change your life. Moments when you realise you will never be the same and your whole existence is divided into two parts - before this, and after this.

For you, this moment was meeting Tom Riddle.

The memories of that rainy day when your gazes crossed for the first time continue to haunt your thoughts almost every second of your existence. And no matter how hard you try to forget, they become more and more vivid. Sometimes you wonder if you are actually reliving it or if it is just a fruit of your imagination.

The rain was so cold that day, that your whole body was shivering under your soaking clothes. You were running across the courtyard, trying to get inside as soon as possible. Both of your hands were clutching your bag on top of your head, trying to prevent the water from getting into your eyes. You were almost at the door when your body collided with someone, and you lost your balance falling into a muddy puddle.

You looked up, ready to give a piece of your mind to whoever made you end up like this, but your words got stuck in your throat the moment your gaze crossed his.

Eyes as dark as the night. Skin as pale as the moonlight. Hair falling in elegant curls on top of the most beautiful face you have ever seen. He silently offered you his hand, before he took off his jacket and wrap it around your trembling figure.

"Are you alright?", he asked. His voice was smooth like honey, yet deep. You couldn't do anything else other than slowly nod before your cheeks turned a light shade of red. He offered you a small smirk, before guiding you inside the castle. No words were exchanged between you after that.

Looking back, you are sure that this was the moment that changed your life.

You didn't know who he was at first. He looked so young, that it was natural to assume he was your age. You have not seen him before, so he must be a transfer student, just like you were a year ago. "He did not wear a robe, so he must not been sorted yet", you said to your friends later that day and they just shook their heads. No one has heard of any transferring students this year, yet here you were claiming you have seen in the flesh the man of your dreams.

And you were almost convinced you were dreaming a few days later when you found yourself sitting in the back of the class, while he was neatly writing his name on the black board.

Professor Riddle.

"As your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, I would like to establish a few ground rules right now", his voice was calm but dominant, "Always come prepared. I do not tolerate lazy students. No talking during class. No questions during lessons. If there is anything you do not understand, you can either conduct your own research in the library or visit one of my additional sessions every third Friday of the month."

Unlike you, the majority of the students have already heard of Tom and some even knew him personally, as he graduated just a few years ago. They carefully listened to all his rules, noting everything they should do to stay on his good side. No matter the house, the respect and fear felt towards Tom was felt by all students. You would lie if you said that this did not include you.

Yet in two weeks time during his first Friday session, you found yourself leaning over your notebook, while Tom was calmly explaining the lesson material to you. You were nodding your head, not paying even a little bit of attention to what he was saying. All you could focus on was the sound of his voice and the tingles that covered your whole body every time he lifted his eyes to your face, checking if were actually following.

"I am curious, miss, for the real purpose of your visit today", he said once you started packing your bag. You immediately froze in place, cold sweat forming on the back of your neck. Your trembling hands closed your bag before you turned to him with a tight-lipped smile.

"I am not sure I understand what you mean, professor."

He offered you a small smile, before grabbing his coat and briefcase and making his way towards you. Stopping just a step away from you, he lifted his hands toward your neck, making you gulp. You stood still, expecting him to wrap his hand around your throat, while his eyes burned into yours. His long fingers inched closer and closer to your skin, before wrapping around your tie and adjusting it so it could be centred.

"I am a patient and understanding man, miss", he said, his hand resting on the piece of cloth for a few more seconds, before moving away, "But I am no fool."

And you knew his words to be true. Because if there was a fool here, that was you. You knew it was wrong to pursue the foolish feelings that started to blossom in your chest. Despite the age difference being only a few years, falling for a professor was never a good idea. But how could you stop yourself when every time his eyes laid upon you there was a feeling of longing behind them? The small touches on your arms, every time he tried to explain to you the parts of the textbook you claimed "not to understand", the way his lips curved in a small smirk every time you volunteered to help during demonstrations in class, the way his gaze darkened that time he saw your friend's arms wrapped around your shoulders during dinner...

He may have thought he was subtle, but you knew there was some part of him that desired you as much as you did.

"What do you think of me, professor?", you asked one day, while sitting on the desk, arranging papers. As you were the only student who showed any interest in DADA sessions outside the scheduled classes, Tom moved the Friday meetings to his private office. They also started to happen every week, rather than once per month. And often, you were helping him with work, rather the other way around. "Why?", his gaze lifted from the papers he was grading, eyebrows furrowing in suspicion. He laid his pen down, crossing his arms in front of his chest and resting his body back on his chair. You sat next to him on a smaller wooden chair, but your hands did not stop arranging the graded exams, and neither did your focus move from them.

"I am...", you took a deep breath, thinking how to phrase your explanation, "Curious, I guess."

Tom watched you with interest, noting the way that your voice trembled in the beginning. Looking up at your face, his eyes trailed every single one of your features, before stopping at your lips.

"You are a good student", he finally said, his tone flat. Your shoulders immediately slumped and you let out a quiet "Oh.", your fingers now pressing the tower of papers on its sides to make sure it is stable. The silence between you grew longer as you tried your best to hide the disappointment you felt from his answer. Tom, on the other hand, was still staring at your face, trying to read your emotions based on your pursed lips and furrowed brows.

"All finished. I think it is better if I go", you finally said, unable to sit in his presence anymore. You stood up, ready to grab your bag from the floor, when cold fingers wrapped themselves around your wrist halting you in place. Tom stood up from his chair, moving behind you. Laying his free hand on the side of your waist, he leaned towards you, nose just a few inches from your hair. He took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume, and let out a low groan.

"What I really think...", he murmured, the fingers on your waist digging into your flesh, "is not something I shall voice out loud. The thoughts that flood my mind every time I see you are too..."

Your breath hitched.

"Too?"

"Sinful", you felt his breath on the back of your ear and your body involuntarily shivered. Before you could think of an answer, his hands left your body and he took a step back. You turned around, eager to close the distance again, but were stopped by him grabbing your shoulder and gently pushing you away.

"Do not", he warned, "do not make this harder for both of us."

"But I-"

"I think it is best if you leave."

You gulped. And the first time your eyes did not cast down in shame - instead you held his gaze, your expression hardening.

"You cannot do this to me", your voice trembled, "Toying with my feelings , then pushing me away."

He raised his brow and his hand fell from your shoulder. You stood in place, not making any attempts to get closer.

"I did not do such thing", his voice sounded low and dark, his eyes suddenly turning colder, "In fact, I am telling you now... Whatever hope you hold in your heart about anything happening between us, you should kill it now."

"But you said-"

"I know what I said", he interrupted you impatiently, "And I mean it. But whatever affection I have towards you does not change the fact you are my student."

Your fingers wrapped around the edge of your skirt and you clenched your jaw, moving your gaze towards the door. The rational part of your brain was telling you to just grab your bag and dash through the door. The other part, the one led by your heart, was screaming at you to stay and confront him. It did not take you long to decide which one to listen to.

"Why does it matter?", you snapped, "I am an adult already. And you are only a few years older. It is not illegal or anything!"

Tom let out an annoyed sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, before running his fingers through his dark curls. He turned around and walked around the desk, before slamming his hands on the hard surface.

"Merlin, you just do not understand!", his voice was full with irritation, "I can not lose my job. I can not lose everything I have worked for!"

"We can hide it", you protested, gluing yourself to his side and gripping his bicep, "Only for a few months! Only till I graduate!"

The man tore your hands away from his arm, cupping them in his palms instead. He tilted his head, searching your eyes, which were now starting to form tears of stress and frustration.

His face suddenly relaxed. The air between you felt lighter and a new spark of hope started to burn inside of you. His finger made its way to your cheek and wiped one of the tears that started to trail down your skin.

"Is it not curious, how weak love makes a man?", his finger trailed down to your jaw, before cupping it, "And no spell in this world is strong enough to save a man that has already fallen."

Your head instinctively leaned towards his hand and you closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of warmth of his skin on yours. If you could only freeze time, you would stay in this moment forever.

"I don't want to be saved", you murmured and despite not being able to see him, you could feel the small smile that grazed his lips once you said it. You freed your hands from his and wrapped them around his torso, burying your head in his chest. It took a few seconds for him to embrace your body, resting his chin on the top of your head.

And if you could only see the satisfied smirk and cold gaze on Tom's face, you would have known how true his words are. There is no spell in this world that could save you not that you have already fallen...

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You can't say exactly when the dream had turned into a nightmare.

Private sessions became everyday afternoon meetings, where you talked about different random topics. Tom never opened up about his past, even his Hogwarts years. On the other hand, he was a good listener and without you realising it, he managed to unravel your whole family history just within a week.

His silent nature did not bother you, however. You finally had someone who listened to you. You slowly started to detach from your friends, excusing your unnatural behaviour on all the extra academic work you were taking. They were worried, but every time they tried to voice their concerns, you rolled your eyes, before running to Tom to tell him about their words. "They are just jealous of you, my dear, " he would always chuckle, gently stroking your cheek, "because you found what they would keep searching for a long, long time."

Soon, he was the only person you really trusted. And he claimed he felt the same.

This is why he couldn't ask anyone else to sneak into the Headmaster's office and get the little leather diary in one of his desk drawers. This is also why you had to find a way to get the books he was interested in from the restricted section without getting caught. This is also why you had to lure the naive fifth-year Hufflepuff into the Chamber of Secrets and leave her there.

There was simply no one else whom he trusted to do these tasks. And you gladly completed each of his requests without question, doing everything in your power to keep him happy.

But soon this was not enough. And once you graduated all the promises he made to you broke into thousand little pieces, which were discarded into thin air.

"I don't need you anymore", his cold voice said, his eyes glued to the papers in front of him, "You can leave. Make sure you close the door."

Without sparing you even a glance, he grabbed the pile of papers and left for class, leaving you to gather your thoughts and pieces of your heart by yourself.

What did you do wrong? Why did he change so suddenly? Was it all a lie?

These questions continued to poison your mind for the next few years, while you tried to rebuild yourself. You did not realise how dependent you were on him, till you were left on your own. The weight of all the unsaid feelings within you was forcing you onto your knees, making you unable to get up and continue with your life.

And this is how two years after your graduation you found your way back to Hogwarts. The place where it all began...

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The wooden clock on the wall was ticking dangerously close to midnight when Tom finally got to his office. The teacher's gathering has been prolonged unnecessarily due to Dumbledore's ramblings and him finding problems where there are none. The amount of control the young professor has exercised to endure this long meeting has left him completely drained of energy, but he knew he still had to do some research about the Founders' Relics. After so many years he was finally getting close to achieving his goal and he was ready to sacrifice as many nights of sleep as necessary.

He knew something was not right the moment he opened the door. The lights were still off and everything seemed to be in the exact place he left it... but there was just the faintest sound of someone breathing which made him immediately reach for his wand.

"Ah, look who finally came", your giggle reached his ears before he saw you turning on his chair, fingers moving towards the small lamp on his desk, "Terribly rude of you to make me wait this long."

Tom's lips pressed into a thin line and his grip around his wand tightened. He traced his eyes over the visible parts of your body, noting the little changes that had occurred since he last saw you.

Your hair, which was usually neatly combed and put in a bun, was now in a messy braid, the front pieces framing your face. Your lips, which usually curved in a shy smile, were now forming an arrogant, almost sinister smirk. Your eyes, which have always looked up to him full of admiration, were now staring down at him with a glint of insanity.

"Get out", he commanded, striding towards you with his wand pointed towards your head.

Your raised your eyebrows and your mouth shaped an "o" in a mock horror, before you reached for your own wand, pointing it back at him.

"Now that is not a way to welcome your ex-lover, is it?", your eyes squint.

Tom scoffed at your words, stopping at the edge of his desk, before his expression hardened.

"You were never my lover", he stated, his head tilting to the side, "And I thought I was extremely clear when I said last time I saw you that you are not welcome here."

You hummed, eyes moving to the ceiling. Still holding your wand towards him, you relaxed further into his chair, lifting your legs onto his desk. With a curious gaze, you followed the stone patterns of the walls around the room, while scrunching your face in disgust.

"3 years, Tom", you finally said, landing your attention back on him, "3 years you have been here and your office is as bland as it was when you first came here. It brings my mood down, you know? It's so grey!"

"You can leave then", Tom hissed through his teeth, making a few more steps till he stayed right in front of you. The tip of his wand rested under your chin and he pulled it upwards, making you look up, "I am giving you exactly a minute to leave, before I take your life."

A loud giggle left your lips and you pressed your neck further into his wand.

"How generous!"

"45 seconds."

You gently put your own wand back into your pocket, not moving your eyes from his. Tilting your head, your mouth formed a wide smile.

"Okay."

His brows shot in confusion, his jaw clenching. You could see his on the wand became tighter, his knuckles almost white.

"Okay?"

"Do it", you shrug your shoulders, "My ghost will be eager to see how are you going to explain why your new assistant went missing after coming to your office to drop a list of all the students that are going to be in your... our class this year."

Before you know it, his free hand flew to your face and gripped your face. His fingers dig into your jaw, lifting it dangerously close to his face.

"My assistant?", he let out a dry chuckle, "Good try, dear. And a terrible way to waste that minute I gave you."

With lips already starting to form the words of the deadliest spell, his fingers dug deeper into your face, before his eyes landed on the sparkling object in your palms. The unforgivable words quickly died in his throat and he withdrew his wand, stumbling back. Eyes full of anger met yours, who in contrast were sparkling with playfulness.

"How did you get that?", he demanded, reaching towards the object, but you pulled it back, before laying it on your head. Putting your elbows on his desk, you fluttered your eyelashes, smiling brightly.

"Do you think it suits me?"

"Stop playing around."

"You are such a bore", you rolled your eyes, "I went on a holiday to Albania. And I found this gorgeous, gorgeous diadem, which turned out to be Rowena Ravenclaw's. What are the chances?"

Tom seemed unamused by your story, instead twitching his jaw. His eyes stayed glued to the diadem on your head, the reflection of the sapphire on it sparkling in his cold eyes.

"How did you know where it was?", his gaze moved towards you, his hand putting his wand back in his coat. His tall form moved towards you again, this time taking a seat on the empty surface of the desk in front of you. With a smile, you took the diadem out of your head, twirling it between your fingers.

"You don't think you were the only one who managed to charm the famous Helena Ravenclaw, do you?", you raised your eyebrow, moving your tongue across your top lip, "You underestimate the power of women's empathy and love for gossip, Tom."

He let out an airy laugh, running a hand through his thick curls. After two years, he hasn't changed anything about his appearance. His face, his haircut, and even the suits he wore were the exact same ones he already wore when you were a student. You would lie if you said you didn't enjoy it - that meant that the Tom you loved was still somewhere inside of him. Your Tom.

"I'm impressed", he finally said, moving his hands towards his knee and locking his fingers around it. His face dropped into a serious expression once again, "Give it to me."

You tilted your head, pursing your lips. Your eyes moved to the diadem, before landing back on him.

"Oh, I can't do that, Tom", you rested your palm on your chest, looking up at him with doe eyes, "He would be very disappointed if I don't bring it back to him."

Tom took a deep breath, his upper lip twitching.

"He?", he pressed his tongue to the side of his cheek, "Who is "he"?"

You twirled in his chair, pressing the diadem closer to your chest.

"My Lord, of course", you let out a giggle, resting your cheek on your shoulder and closing your eyes. You still managed to see the way Tom's body tensed, however.

"He sent his regards to you", you smiled, standing up, "If you hadn't left me that day, he wouldn't have met me and subsequently learned all about making horcruxes."

The man's eyes immediately darkened and his hand flew towards your wrist, stilling you in place.

"Name."

"Huh?"

"Tell me his name", Tom hissed, his nostrils flaring. You stepped closer to him, noses almost brushing.

"And why would I do that?", you raised your brows, your voice turning into a mocking laugh, "Do you think I would betray him... for you?"

The sudden feeling of his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you forward made you almost lose your balance and you grabbed his shoulder in reflex to keep you from falling on top of him. Nesting his head in the curve between your neck and shoulder, Tom pressed his lips next to your ear before muttering:

"You, my dear, are a liar", his teeth grazed the end of your earlobe, "And a very bad one."

Your whole body froze and you tried to push yourself away from him, but his arms were holding you firmly in place. Suddenly all the confidence you have displayed in his presence so far melted under the warmth of his touch, and you were left only with the hope you could still lie your way out of this situation.

"I am not lying", you protested with a quickening breath.

Tom lifted his head from your shoulder and rested his forehead on yours instead. His eyes stared deep into your own and his warm breath on your face made your whole body involuntarily tremble.

"I have already told you I am not a fool", one of his hands slid from your waist towards your arm and then hand, where you were still clutching the diadem. His fingers wrapped around it and pulled it out of your grasp with ease. Without looking at it, he placed it on the desk behind his back, before his hand found its way to the top of your head.

"I know you better than you know yourself, my dear", he muttered, his hand gently stroking your hair, "And I know there is no room in your heart for anyone but me. You would not be here otherwise."

He pulled back enough to be able to take a better look at your face. His gaze fell from your half-lidded eyes to your parted lips.

"You are mine. Always were, always will be."

A loud whine escaped your throat before it was swallowed by Tom's mouth on yours. His plump lips were chapped, a result of hours of his teeth sinking into them, trying to hold back all the snarky remarks he had for his fellow colleagues. The rough feeling made your knees buckle and you closed your eyes, relaxing fully in his arms.

Without breaking the kiss, he turned you around and with a swift move of his hand, pushed the diadem and a few books out of the way, before laying you on the cold surface. Your hands found their way into his hair, tugging the soft curls.

A low growl left his lips and he lifted his lips from yours, a trail of saliva connecting them, before it was broken by his fingers cupping your chin.

"This is what you wanted, is it not?", his voice was suddenly deeper and darker, "For me to take you on the same desk I once you graded you."

His words made a loud moan to escape you and your back arched up, seeking nothing more than to be close to him. With a low chuckle, he pressed his palm between your breasts, pushing you flat on the furniture beneath you. You opened your mouth to complain but were quickly silenced once he pushed his index and middle fingers in your mouth, almost making you choke. Fixating your gaze on his, you closed your lips around them and started to suck, making sure to flatten your tongue in the process.

The image before your eyes was something you had dreamt of countless times before - Tom, with his messy curls and parted lips, panting while the fingers of his free hand were skilfully unbuttoning his vest. You did not waste any time in helping him, focusing on shakingly unbuttoning his belt.

"So impatient", he clicked his tongue, withdrawing his fingers from your mouth, so could remove his shirt. Once his torso was in full view, you did not hesitate even a second before you lifted yourself in a sitting position and attached your lips to his neck. Nibbling and sucking the smooth skin, you started to nibble and suck your way down to his chest. His head fell back and he closed his eyes, his muscles relaxing under you.

Tom Riddle may not be a man who was capable of love, but he was a man after all. And it would be a lie to say he has never thought of you in a more... erotic way. You have always been so obedient and good, doing everything for him without any hesitation. He has always found that incredibly attractive, but not enough for him to act on his desires.

Now, however, the sight of you has ignited some primal urges within him that he never felt before. Maybe it was the few drinks he had consumed prior at the gathering or maybe it was the idea of the the crazy lengths you were willing to go in order to get back to him...

Tom Riddle would probably never know the reason for him giving up control for the first time in his life. To you, nonetheless.

His mind came back to reality when he felt you pushing him on his chair and nestling yourself between his legs. Looking up at him, you tugged his pants and boxers down, letting his erection free. You let your index finger gently caress the length of it, making it twitch. A small giggle left your lips before you repeated the gesture.

"Stop teasing me", the man groaned, and his palm rested behind your head in order to push you towards his member, but you swiftly moved to the side dodging it. You squinted your eyes, moving your hands to his thighs and digging your nails into them.

"You", the word was hissed through your teeth, "are in no position to order me around."

Tom scoffed and was about to argue when your mouth unexpectedly wrapped around the head of his penis, twirling your tongue around it. He let out a choked gasp and he tried to put his hand on your head again before you smacked it away. Swallowing his pride, he rested both of his arms on the side of his chair, bucking his hip forward.

Carefully watching his reaction you wrapped your hand around him, slowly moving it down and back up again, following the movement of your mouth. The feeling of him filling your mouth was causing some saliva to start dripping your chin, but rather than pulling away, you pushed him further into your mouth till your nose was buried in his dark pubic hair. The feeling of his swollen head hitting the back of your throat made you gag, causing Tom to groan in pleasure.

"Fuck this", he muttered, before grabbing you by your hair and pulling your head up, before pressing it down again. His hips buckled in harmony with your head, making sure you were taking all of him. His dick was now coated in your saliva, making it glisten in the dim light. You closed your eyes, the lack of oxygen making them sting. The rapid pace with which he was moving was making it hard for you to breathe through your nose and you tried giving him a warning slap on his leg, which he purposefully ignored. Instead, he moved his other hand towards your chin and held your head still, while he continued to thrust his hips up and down. Sloppy wet noises filled his office, being interrupted only by his heavy breathing.

Your thighs clenched together in a weak attempt to relieve the burning ache between your legs. The way he was using your mouth to satisfy himself was making your underwear damp, yet you knew better than to touch yourself yet. After so many sleepless nights during which you tried to relieve yourself, imagining how would it feel to taste him, you wanted to focus all your attention only on him.

Feeling he was close, Tom finally pulled your head back and examined your face. Both saliva and tears were smeared all over your chin and your cheeks were flushed in rosy colour.

"What a pretty sight you are, my dear", he smiles, wiping some of it with his thumb. You licked your lips, getting up on your feet.

"And you are such a smooth talker", your face leaner just inches from his, "I wonder if you are as good with the action as you are with words."

Taking this as a challenge, he stood up and pushed you back onto the desk, before lifting your skirt. His fingers hooked under the elastic bands of your panties and with one tug they snapped, leaving you completely exposed in front of him.

Tom gulped, burning the image of your waiting arousal into his mind. His fingers made their way towards your slit, gathering the wetness before easily sliding his middle finger in. You moaned at the contact, fluttering your eyes closed. He pumped his fingers a few times, his eyes carefully observing your facial expression before he slid it out. You whined at the loss of contact, opening your eyelids only to find him smirking down at you.

"Do you really think you deserve me wasting time on your pleasure?"

"Fuck you!", you snapped, resulting in him grabbing your neck and squeezing so hard, an airy cough left your lips.

"Such a dirty mouth", he lifted your face up, his jaw clenching, "but such a weak mind. Look at the pathetic mess you are..."

Your lips parted to offer a snarky response, but your mind quickly went blank the moment he slid fully into you. Arching your back, your hands found their way around his shoulders, while his rested on both sides of your head.

Tom did not waste any time in developing a quick pace, which made you roll your eyes back. With each thrust the head of his cock was brushing against your cervix, making your whole vision white. His left hand moved towards one of your breasts, pinching and twisting the oversensitive nipple between his fingers. His other hand made his way to your pussy, where his thumb started to draw sloppy circles over your clit.

Never in your life have you felt such pleasure in your life. Of course, you had previous lovers during the past two years while trying to get Tom out of your mind, but nothing compared to this. Curling your toes, you lifted both of your legs and rested them on his shoulder.

Both of you groaned in unison when you felt him going even deeper than before. His upper body collapsed on top of yours, his lips immediately latching onto your other nipple. Still gripping his shoulders, you dragged your nails down his back, leaving angry red marks behind.

The knot in your stomach started to tighten and your moans became louder and louder. Moving your hips so you can meet Tom's thrusts, you looked at his face, only to find him staring back with eyes clouded with desire. His fingers were now working faster on your sensitive bud and you let out a shaky breath: "Tom, I...", you could not finish your sentence, your vocabulary suddenly consisting only of his name.

"Shhh", he whispered, his hand moving from your breast to your cheek. He gently stroked it with his thumb and suddenly you saw in front of you the same Tom that charmed you years ago, "I've got you."

His words were enough to cause the knot to snap and your whole body went rigid, squeezing and pulsating around him. A few harsh trusts and Tom suddenly tensed on top of you, as he painted your insides white. You both held onto each other, fingers digging into soft flesh, as you melted into your shared euphoria.

It was not romantic.

It was primal. Rough. Dirty.

It was everything you have imagined.

Finally relaxing on top of you, Tom buried his head in your shoulder, trying his best to calm his breathing down. You laid under him, crushed under his weight, yet enjoying every second of the contact he allowed you to have.

Against your better judgment, you lifted your hand and started to gently stroke his hair. Against his better judgment, he allowed you to and closed his eyes in the process.

Tired from the long day and your office activity, Tom lifted you in his arms, his now soft member slipping out of you and he sat back on his chair, adjusting the backrest so you can both take a more comfortable position.

You lifted yourself from his chest and raised your eyebrow, but bit back your tongue the moment your gaze crossed his stern one, warning you not to voice whatever you had in your mind. Letting out a small chuckle, you shook your head and laid it back down on his skin.

There was an urge burning inside of you to mock him about showing gentleness, but deep down you knew this was your only chance to enjoy it. So you closed your eyes and relaxed, finally being able to fall asleep without the haunting dreams of what could've been.

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The sunlight was painting the whole room in a beautiful gold colour and Tom let out a low groan when he felt it hitting his face. His hand made its way over his eyes, shielding them from the light, while his mind slowly started to become aware of his surroundings. The uncomfortable chair was making all of his muscles ache and he immediately regretted not gathering the energy last night to make his way back to his room. The chill air coming from the window has not helped too, especially when we was only partly covered and-

Tom's eyes shot open looking down at his body and finding his suit jacket thrown over his waist and private parts. You, however, were not to be found. Not on top of him, not on the desk, nowhere in the room.

He immediately stood up, grabbing his pants from the floor and furiously putting them on, while breathing heavily. His gaze fell on the stack of books he pushed from his desk last night and he immediately fell on his knees, scanning the floor around him.

"No, no, no", he hissed under his breath, pushing his hair out of his eyes, "That little serpent!"

Not only you have left, but you also have taken the diadem with you. No matter how much he searched for it, it was definitely not here.

You tricked him.

Getting up back to his feet, Tom kicked one of the books on the floor, before slamming his hands on his desk. His breathing was hard and he could feel his blood boiling in his veins. Suddenly, his attention was caught by a small parchment of paper placed next to his quill. Unfolding it, he could have sworn his heart stopped for a second.

"My dear Tom,

Thank you for our wonderful night together. I did not want to leave you so early, but I had to be out of the castle before everyone else woke up. To be truthful with you, I am not going to be your new assistant. But your already knew that, so I guess it is not shocking news. I sneaked it yesterday when all of the teachers were having a party (or what you call a gathering, ha!). Neither do I have a new lord. You already knew that as well.

Do not stress about the diadem, as it is safe with me - if there is one thing I learned from you is that I need to take good care of horcruxes once they are made. I know it was probably foolish of me to bring it to you last night, as it does hold a part of my soul, but I promise that from now on I will take better care of it.

Without doubt your paths shall cross again. Remember Tom: You are mine. Always were, always will be.

Love, y/n

P.S. - I hope you do not mind that I helped myself by getting your keys from your jacket and getting a shower in your room. Also, I think you need to follow your own advice and start putting your objects away. I found your diary resting on your bedside table, so I had to take it with me. Do not worry - I promise I will keep it safe...

for now."

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CC artwork: Nasan Hardcastle

#tom riddle #tom riddle imagine #slytherin imagine #tom riddle smut #professor tom riddle #professor tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x reader #professor tom riddle smut

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slytherinboysappreciation · 5 months ago

Text

Happy Father’s Day - Prof. T. R. x platonic gn!Reader

A/N: I wrote this back in May coz I was inspired by my Bullied fic. I know it’s short, but I’ve been waiting a while to post it, and I think it stands good on its own. Happy Father’s Day 💛

There’s no use of Y/N

CW: Reader is implied to have a bad father; slight fluff

247 words

“Professor?” You knock on his office door, nerves coursing through you. You have a gift-wrapped book in your hands, a dark arts book from your family library.

The door opens to reveal Professor Riddle, standing in the doorway. “Hello.”

You’re his favorite student, his star pupil. But anxiety still churns your stomach when you speak. “Hello, sir. Um… I know it’s not a normal thing, but I just wanted to give you this.”

You hold out the book to him. Tom raises his eyebrows but takes the book from you. “What is this for?”

“I know it’s not approved of for teachers to mingle with their students as much as you do,” you take a deep breath. “But I just wanted to say thank you. For being there for me and the others.”

Tom’s gaze softens. “And you chose to give it to me today?”

You shrug and shuffle your feet. “Better you than my actual dad.”

Tom sighs softly and reaches out to rest a hand on your shoulder. It’s the closest thing to a hug he can give you. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sir,” you say quietly. You turn to go, but pause in your tracks. “Happy Father’s Day.”

He says nothing in return. He just watches you leave, your present still held in his hands.

But his lecture the next day is a little less harsh. His gaze, a little warmer.

It makes you smile; perhaps the stony professor had a heart after all.

#tom riddle #gn reader #platonic reader #divider by cafekitsune #professor tom riddle #professor tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x gn reader #tom riddle x you

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moonyeyedstar · 10 months ago

Text

Teacher's Pet- Professor Tom Riddle x Reader Smut

*18+*

“You are telling me that not a single one of you knows the answer to the question on the board?!” your professor shouts turning to face the class, his grip on the chalk in his hand was so tight it should’ve snapped it. Every single one of your classmates bowed their heads. You knew the answer to the question but everyone had been talking about how you are the teacher’s pet so you did not want to raise your hand. Professor Riddle was always quite harsh with how he handled his students and unforgiving but for some reason, there was something about you that softened him up. He had never raised his voice toward you and when he gave the class detention he never wrote you up. You’d be lying if you said you haven’t grown to fancy him. He was so devilishly handsome, the way his eyebrows furrowed when he was focused, a body so toned you could tell even under his suit, he was always dressed so properly, and his hands, oh my god his hands, his fingers were so long and slender and pale and his veins stuck out. He wore silver rings that would’ve been gaudy on any other man but not on him, he looked so sophisticated. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, but you should have, you should have bowed your head like every other one of your classmates, it probably could have prevented him calling on you.

“Miss. Y/l/n?” Professor Riddle’s voice echoed throughout the classroom. “You surely know the answer don’t you?” he asks, walking over to your desk. Your stomach did flips whenever he said your name. Your brain felt fuzzy as he approached you, and you caught yourself practically drooling over him.

“Ye-” you stop yourself, “N-No Sir,” you stutter, letting your eyes linger a bit too long

before dropping your eyesight to your textbook in front of you.

“No?” he cocks an eyebrow whilst staring you down causing goosebumps to erupt all over your skin. All you could do was shake your head no, keeping your eyes glued to your textbook, and try your best to distract yourself from the growing wetness between your legs. He looked back up at the class but a small smirk was playing on the corner of his lips, “You are all excused early, do not forget your essays are due at the end of the week, mediocrity will not be tolerated, meet the guidelines or fail, it is up to you,” he said roughly to the class. Everyone nodded and you all began to gather your things. As you went to close your textbook Professor Riddle slammed his hand down forcing it open, “Not you, Y/n. I’d like to have a little chat with you after everyone leaves,” he said lowly. There was a devilish glimmer in his eye, that made your heart skip a beat.

“Y-Yes Sir,” you nodded keeping your textbook open and squeezing your thighs together to help appease the throbbing need between your legs. The class quickly emptied and your professor looked down on you. “Why didn’t you answer the question?” he asked firmly.

“I am so sorry Sir,” you said shakily, “I will do better next time, I promise,” you looked up at him, your eyes were a bit watery from your nerves.

“You and I both know you knew the answer, you are at the top of your class and it was a simple question, the issue is you are surrounded by idiots. There is no need for you to lower yourself to their level.”

“No Sir,” you sigh because he does not understand, “They all say things about me, that I am a teacher’s pet, a suck-up,” you mumble, “I just did not want to make it worse, so I lied,” you nervously played with your hands. Much to your surprise, he let out a low chuckle, shifting your attention to look up at him. He had a small grin on his face, god he was so sexy.

“They say those things because they are jealous that you are so incredibly brilliant,” he said genuinely. The heat between your legs grew to be almost unbearable and

your cheeks flushed.

“Professor-” you start but he cuts you off.

“-And if I say you’re brilliant it means something,”

“Thank you, Sir,” your skin was hot and your panties were soaked. You tense up as he unexpectedly brings the back of his hand to caress your cheek. His hand was cold but his rings were colder, they almost stung against your burning skin.

“Why so flushed, darling?” he asks quietly, a sense of cockiness in his tone. He knew the effect he had on you and was relishing in the fact he got you so worked up.

“It is because of you Sir,” you admit, blushing. You did not know where this newfound confidence came from, maybe it was the built-up need for him, the way you yearned to be touched by him, whatever it was you were going to chase it. He chuckled again, his chuckles were almost a growl, they made your cunt drip.

“Because of me?” he teases.

“Yes Sir, because of you, I need you, I can hardly focus in class, the whole time I am thinking of the most utterly sinful things we could be doing to each other.” Your words seemed to have an effect on him as you watched his pants grow tight around his bulge. You could not help but smirk to yourself a bit.

“God,” he growls lowly, “You have no idea how badly I yearn to do those utterly sinful things you think of to you, I cannot keep my eyes off of you in class, not only are you the most beautiful girl I have ever laid my eyes upon, you also have a mind so extraordinary that it turns me on even more, I cannot even imagine all the brilliant things you will do but right now I think we both owe each other this moment, I have never met someone who made me almost intimidated by their intellect, I need you, Y/n, so will you let me have you?”

“God yes,” you practically moaned.

A smirk grew on his face, “Have you done this before?” he asked as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Yes Sir, I have done things before,” you said quietly, your heart pounding in your chest.

“What things? Have you ever had sex or just sucked cock?” he stares at you intently, his eyes full of lust.

“Just sex,” you blush hard under his stare. Your confession only seemed to intrigue him more.

“Oh my darling so you’ve never sucked a cock before?” he teases and you shake your head no. “Well, it seems to me that I have so much to teach you,” his smirk consumed his face. You nodded in agreement.

“Yes Sir, please, teach me.” You were practically begging. By this point, your clit was throbbing and you were so nervous but so excited to suck off your professor. He walked over to his desk and sat in his chair before waving you over. You rushed over quickly, your heart pounding in your chest, and stood before him.

“On your knees darling,” he chuckled condescendingly. You dropped to your knees in an instant before looking up at him awaiting your next instruction. “You listen so well, you’re already being such a good girl for me,” he teases as he undoes his belt, the button, and the zipper on his trousers and pulls himself out of his boxers. His cock was huge and you could not fathom fitting all of him in your mouth. His member bobbed in front of your face, his tip was red and swollen and slick with precum. You were so caught up in staring that it wasn’t even until you heard a small chuckle escape his lips that you realized you had been staring. You shook your head and looked back up at his eyes to find him grinning, so obviously amused. “Like what you see, sweetheart?” he taunts.

“Yes Sir,” you nodded, your nerves on fire.

“Good,” he smirks, “Touch me, darling, don’t be scared,” he waves his hand, gesturing for you to grab him. You reach out, your hand is shakey and clammy from your nerves, and you notice a sweat begin to come on, just waiting to break across your forehead. You grab him before looking up at him. “Now stroke me, darling,” he nods at you to begin and you start to stroke him, moving slowly because there is nothing to lube him with. “Spit on it, love, it’ll help,” he instructs. Your clit begins to burn from the arousal of the moment and the way he speaks to you. You lean over and spit on his cock. You rub it over his already slick tip and watch as his cock twitches from your touch. You begin pumping him and look up at him as you do.

“How is this, Sir?”

“Good but now give me a few more pumps before taking my tip, just my tip into your mouth.”

“Yes Sir,” you nod, your heart racing as you pump him a few more times before leaning over as instructed and taking just his tip in your mouth. You let your tongue flick over the slit on his tip taking in the bitter, salty taste of his precum as you continue to pump his shaft, you loved having his taste coat your tongue. You feel his hips shudder under you as his tip throbs against your tongue. The way his body reacts makes you eager to take more of him into your mouth. You slowly slide your head down fitting about half of his length in your mouth but stop before you let him hit the back of your throat so you do not gag on him. Your greediness earns you a couple of low moans and groans from your professor. His moans only made your desire for him grow. Your cunt was dripping for him.

“Fuck,” he growls, “Good girl, just like that, relax your jaw and breathe and take me down your throat,” he instructs, his hand going to grab a fistful of your hair as he lets his head fall back and his mouth stayed cracked open. You whimpered around him and took a deep breath in through your nose as you relaxed your jaw and took your professor down your throat. You tense up but quickly remind yourself to keep breathing and swallow around him as you bob your head on his length. His grip on your hair tightens as you continue to bob your head. You drool all over him as you move on him sloppily as he jerks his hips up towards you, his cock twitching more and more often inside your mouth. You hollowed out your cheeks around him loving the feeling of having him inside your mouth. You were almost getting yourself off just by thinking about him cumming inside your mouth. “Look at you, taking me so well already, such a quick learner,” he grunts looking down at you, loosening his grip on the back of your head to brush hair out of your face. “Why don’t you get on my desk and let me fuck you as a reward for being such a good girl for me?” You whimpered around him and pulled off with a pop. Your lips were slick and swollen and you had saliva running down your chin. He could not take his eyes off of you, “God,” he growled, “You look so perfect.” You felt almost intoxicated but his words made your skin hot.

“Thank you, Sir,” you whispered as you wiped your drool off your chin, licking your lips one more time as you propped yourself on his desk to take in every last bit of his taste. He watched as you sat on his desk, he was practically undressing you with his eyes. He got up from his desk chair and gripped your thighs, pushing them open swiftly making your skirt roll up before leaning down to kiss under your ear. He nipped at your earlobe as he pressed himself against your soaked panties before letting his hot breath hit the inside of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. He was so dark yet gentle.

“Now Y/n, let me show you how a real man fucks,” he growled into your ear as he slide his hand up your inner thigh and hooked his finger through your panties holding them to the side as he splits you open with his tip and buries himself deep inside you in an instant.

“Oh fuck, Professor,” you couldn’t help but cry out. Your hips bucked and shifted to adjust yourself to his length. You had never had a cock so big inside you before. Your walls were fluttering around his throbbing cock, you were already basking in the feeling of pleasure and pain from having him stretch you out.

“Fuck you’re so tight,” he groaned into the crook of your neck, sending goosebumps all over your skin as he began to pick up his pace. You took in a sharp breath and let your muscles relax allowing him to fix more of him inside you. “God you take me so well,” he moaned out and began leaving kisses on your neck, gentle at first but they quickly became rough. You made him feral, you had him aching with an animalistic desire for you. He began to suck on the skin of your neck taking it into your mouth as his tongue rolled over it, leaving a throbbing hickey. You whimper under his touch and choke back moans. He continued to leave hickeys all over your neck and collarbones as his thrusts became frantic and desperate. His cock massaged your walls and your hips writhed with his to meet him every time he buried his cock as deep inside.

“Oh fuck Professor, you feel so good,” you moaned. You felt him smirk against the skin of your neck before bringing himself to look deep into your eyes as he gripped your neck, his cold hands made you shudder. You locked eyes with him and found yourself becoming a moaning mess right in front of him, you felt so vulnerable, so exposed but you were loving every second of it. You feel your pussy clench around him and you could feel yourself approaching your climax.

“Jesus fuck,” he howled, “I swear to fucking god your pussy will be the death of me.” He let his grip on your neck loosen before sliding his hands under your ass, lifting you a bit, pulling your hips to be as flush against his as possible. He was loving every second of being buried in your tight, hot, dripping cunt. You let your legs spread wider as he began to pound himself into you. You felt a familiar knot grow in the pit of your stomach and moved your hands to grip his shoulder as you felt yourself become weak under him.

“Oh, Professor! Please I am so close,” you moaned through a shattered breath.

“Already my love?” he teases, “I was just getting started,” he smirks before pulling himself out of you. You whined at the emptiness in your cunt, the knot in your stomach was slowly fading away. You were on the verge of tears. He noticed the way your eyes glossed over with tears and chuckled, “Now now,” he teased, “Do not worry my darling, I’m going to have you cumming all over my cock soon enough,” he smirked and pulled you off his desk before turning your around and bending you over his desk. There was no time for you to process what was going on before you knew it he was driving his cock in and out of you again.

“Oh fuck yes!” you gripped the edge of the desk in front of you, your knuckles turning white. You were in complete and utter bliss to have him fill you up again. His thrusts were rough, his hips were slamming against your ass. Tears of pleasure began to roll down your cheeks as your gut began to tighten. You were so fucking close. “Fuck! Right there, do not stop!” you moan out and are on the verge of coming undone.

“Oh darling, keep moaning for me like that and I might just cum in this pretty little cunt of yours,” he moaned.

“God yes!” you cried out, your walls clenching around him, “Please cum inside me Professor I want you to fill me up,” you were so needy.

“Fuck,” he growled, your words were sending him over the edge. His grip on your hips was so tight he was digging into you. He gave you his last powerful thrust before spilling himself into you. You felt his cum fill you up sending you over the edge. You became limp on his desk as you let the most sinful of sounds slip your lips. Your walls were throbbing around him and you were seeing stars. You were left panting as he pulled out of you and leaned over to push the hair off the back of your neck before pressing a gentle kiss on it. “You did so well for me darling,” he said breaking the silence.

“T-Thank you, Sir,” you pant, still in a haze. You listened as his footsteps walked away from where you two were and heard a drawer open. After he gathered whatever it was he needed he came back. You felt a towel on your inner thigh. He was cleaning the both of you up. Your heart did a flip as you did not expect this from him. “Thank you, Sir,” you begin as you stand up, “but there is really no need,” you continued.

“Don’t be that way, I said I was going to take care of and I am, I am a man of my word,” he finished cleaning you both up. You both fixed your clothing quickly. You looked up at him nervously not knowing what to do next. “I think you will find yourself truly pleased if you stay after class again tomorrow, Miss Y/l/n,” he smirked playfully, already ready to go again.

“Yes Sir, I’d love to,” your cheeks flushed as you turned to head to the door.

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lovergirlanna · 9 months ago

Text

Professor Riddle x Professor Fem! Reader

He looks up from his newspaper, his piercing blue eyes appraising you, a cold stern expression on his face.

“good afternoon professor”

He said. His voice firm and confident.

teaser;

You and professor Tom Riddle had grown to be close colleagues over the course of last year. The defence against the dark arts teacher seemed to have a liking towards you. However with your attempts to stay in touch over summer break by sending him letters he hadn’t replied to a single one.

And now with the new school year starting you find yourself struggling to find a seat on the Hogwarts express until you hear a solitary voice. “Good afternoon professor”.

Cruelty and guilty

part one | coming soon …

You belong to me

part two | coming soon …

Vaguely inspired by this post on TikTok

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atzgo · 5 months ago

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A Race Against Darkness: The Curse of the Dark Mark

summary: In a thrilling race against time, Professor Tom Riddle and Nadia Potter face a dire challenge when a cursed dark mark mysteriously appears on Nadia's skin. The mark, pulsing with dark magic, threatens to consume her entirely. As the curse's influence grows stronger, Nadia's energy starts to fade away.

Content Warnings: a whole lot of angst, blood, dark magic and curses, vomiting, mentions of torture, physical contact between professor and student (no smut)

Word Count: 8.1 k

A/N: I tagged this fic as x reader however the female character does have a mentioned name "Nadia Potter", the name only pops up once maybe twice but that's it, her brother Harry is thrown in there but never mentioned by name only referred to as "her brother" twice, physical description of Nadia is never described.

This is also my first ever fic so!!!

P.s I got inspiration for the first two paragraphs from @ holybonez on c.ai from her Prof tom riddle bot so giving credit where credit is due, I did reword it and the rest of the story is my own, just those two starting paragraphs that gave inspiration to me to write this! <3

all characters are 18+ !!!

In the quiet and secluded classroom of Professor Tom Riddle, you find yourself studying without permission, taking a risk for the sake of uninterrupted focus.

Not long ago, you noticed the dark mark on your arm, though you had no recollection of how it got there. The mark’s presence has been a constant source of unease and curiosity. As you gently roll up your sleeve to examine it more closely, tracing the intricate design with your fingers, the door creaks open. Jumping slightly, you hastily roll down the sleeve of your robes. Tom Riddle unexpectedly enters the room, his eyes immediately locking onto you, a questioning gaze on his face as he takes notice of your panicked state.

"Nadia Potter. Why are you in my classroom?" He walked over and rested against his desk with a purposeful stride. "You know it's against school rules for students to be in an empty classroom without a teacher present," he stated calmly, his gaze fixed firmly on you. "I'm aware... It won't happen again," you whispered, preparing yourself for whatever consequences might come. His eyes moved over your appearance, examining everything from your shoes to your hair, as if carefully analyzing every detail. After a long silence that reverberated in the room, he spoke once more.

“Roll up your sleeves” his voice strong and resolute. A surge of panic washed over you as you locked eyes with him. "W-why are you asking me to do that?" you stuttered, unable to hide your anxiety. A smirk formed on his lips as he moved away from the desk and closed in on you. Standing just a few inches away, he lowered his voice. "Did I not make myself clear?"

You stood motionless, your mind racing. It seemed impossible to escape with the door so far away and his presence so close. Before you could react, Professor Riddle firmly took hold of your wrist and slowly rolled up your sleeve. His smirk remained as he spoke again. "Now the other sleeve."

Your mind was filled with fear and confusion, and tears started to form in your eyes. "No, you can't do that! You have no right!" you objected, but he disregarded your tears and swiftly rolled up the other sleeve to reveal your forearm. His eyes slightly widened at the sight of the mark etched on your skin. "And why can't I?" he asked, firmly holding your chin and pulling you closer to him.

"Professors are not allowed to touch students," you replied, with a wavering defiance in your voice. His grip tightened as he locked eyes with you, as if searching for something in your expression. A tear slipped down your cheek as you tasted the salty reminder of your vulnerability on your lips.

Filled with fear and confusion, your mind was overwhelmed, and tears welled up in your eyes. "No, you don't have the right to do that!" you protested, but he ignored your tears and quickly rolled up the other sleeve, revealing your forearm. Upon seeing the mark etched on your skin, his eyes widened slightly. "And why can't I?" he inquired, firmly grasping your chin and drawing you closer to him.

"Professors are prohibited from touching students," you asserted. His grip intensified as he locked eyes with you, almost as if he was searching for something in your expression. A tear trickled down your cheek, a salty taste entering your mouth.

He noticed the tear gliding down your cheek and quickly wiped it away with his thumb before looking into your eyes once more. "Why are you crying?" he asked, his cool tone from before being replaced by a softer one.

You were surprised by his sudden kindness as you said, "How do I get rid of it... the mark? You're a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher; you must know..."

Your voice shook with desperation as Professor Riddle's expression softened even more. He gently released his grip on your chin, understanding the depth of your fear.

"The Dark Mark is permanent once it's given. I assume you didn't receive it willingly...?" he asked with empathy.

“I found it when I woke up this morning, I can’t live with this”. Tears were flowing down my face as I spoke.

Professor Riddle understood your anguish. He softened his grip on your wrist and ran his fingers along the mark. "Has it been causing you pain?" he asked gently.

"It's been constant... Spells haven't helped, and I can't risk going to the hospital wing at Hogwarts, I could get expelled, they’d never give me a chance to explain if they caught a glimpse of it," you admitted, anxiety palpable in your voice. He continued to hold your arm, his touch comforting, as his fingers carefully traced the mark.

Releasing your wrist gently, he took hold of your chin, encouraging you to look at him.

"If I had to make a guess, the Dark Lord is the one who put it on you," he asserted with determination, his tone firm yet gentle.

"How? I've been at Hogwarts all this time, even during breaks. I thought I was safe here," you said, tears streaming down your face as you were engulfed by confusion.

Professor Riddle's expression softened even more as he pulled you closer, with his hand still grasping your chin.

"The Dark Lord's ways are unknown. If he wanted to mark you, he would find a way. Rest assured, as long as you're at Hogwarts, you are out of his reach..."

"If others find out... I could be expelled! Sirius won't take me back, my friends will abandon me, my brother will never speak to me again! There has to be a way to remove it," you begged, fear taking hold of you.

He held you tightly, feeling an unexpected tightening in his chest. Setting aside distracting thoughts, he concentrated on the current situation. "I will make sure no one discovers this. I’ll find a solution... I promise you," he reassured, sensing your anxiety diminish.

Your breaths became steady at his words, his reassuring presence bringing comfort. Pulling you closer, he continued to reassure you, his arm snaking around your waist, thumb gently rubbing circles into your skin.

"Are you feeling better?" he inquired gently, his concern evident in the tone of his voice. You gave a slight nod, feeling the tears subsiding as relief swept over you. "And the pain... none of the spells or potions that should work haven’t," you confessed, seeking his advice.

Professor Riddle carefully examined the mark before returning his gaze to yours.

"This mark is different from any I've encountered before. I will research potential treatments for the pain. It might take time, but I am determined to find a solution," he reassured you.

"Thank you, Professor. Your dedication means a lot," you responded softly, a hesitant smile appearing on your face.

"You seem tired. I can tell you're distressed, no doubt since finding the mark this morning," he said gently. You tiredly nodded, realizing how much the day had taken out of you. "I think I should go back to my dorm," you said, feeling comforted by his presence.

Professor Riddle agreed, moving away from you and heading towards his desk. "Get some rest. I will start researching the mark tonight," he promised, looking at you with newfound warmth.

Appreciative of his unexpected kindness and determination to help, you turned to leave, feeling reassured by his presence in the midst of uncertainty.

Throughout the night, Tom worked tirelessly to find a way to remove the dark mark, but unfortunately, he wasn't able to make any progress. Despite feeling exhausted from the sleepless night, he remained determined to find a solution. The next morning, Tom arrived at the classroom early, looking noticeably pale, but he didn't acknowledge any concerns about his appearance. Seated at his desk, he carefully reviewed the notes from his research, hoping for a breakthrough. When the bell announced the start of the day, he glanced up expectantly, anticipating your entrance.

Quietly, you entered the room, making sure nobody spotted you before softly shutting the door. Signs of fatigue were evident on your face, a reflection of a sleepless night. Tom observed as you settled in, offering a gentle greeting.

“Good morning.”

Noticing your weary appearance, he couldn't ignore the worry creeping over him. Pushing these emotions aside, he focused on the immediate moment.

“You didn’t manage to get any sleep last night, did you?”

"No," you confessed, your voice weighed down by exhaustion. "The pain gets worse every day. I can't sleep, and I've lost my appetite."

Your words filled Tom with worry, as he empathized with your difficult situation.

"Are you not eating at all...?" he asked softly, leaning in to closely inspect your tired face.

"No," you whispered almost inaudibly, eyes cast downward.

The pain in Tom's chest grew stronger. It hurt him to see you in this state, neglecting your basic needs. He reached out, gently touching the side of your face, his touch a blend of reassurance and worry.

"You need to have something to eat...," he said.

"I can't," you replied, your distress evident. "Whenever I try, I feel nauseous."

Tom felt his heart constrict even more. Your reluctance to eat was seriously affecting your health. His eyes locked on you with a blend of concern and resolve.

"Tell me, when was the last time you had a meal?" he asked gently.

"It's been two days," you confessed softly, a realization dawning on your face.

Tom's heart dropped at this admission. Two days without proper nourishment—how were you coping? He tapped underneath your chin, encouraging you to look into his eyes.

"You really should eat something. You'll waste away if you don't..."

You expressed your fears: "I don't know what to do. There are consequences whether I eat or not," with a sense of resignation and tears forming in your eyes. Tom felt a pang of helplessness, unable to bear seeing you suffer.

Despite his usual detachment, he found himself caring deeply for you. “There has to be something I can do…” he muttered to himself, feeling more determined than ever to find a solution.

Gently cupping your chin, he urged you to look at him. “Please… just eat something…” "I know what will happen, and frankly, I’d rather starve," you insisted, maintaining defiant eye contact.

Tom felt a pang in his heart at your insistence. He couldn't understand why he was so concerned, but he couldn't bear to see you suffering.

"Could you please have at least a small snack," he asked in a softer tone.

You hesitated for a moment, weighing in your options "Alright," you conceded, a faint smile appearing on your face. "But if I feel unwell, I'll blame you."

Tom felt a wave of relief as you agreed. Any form of nourishment, no matter how small, was a step forward. He mustered a slight smile in response.

"Don't worry, I'll take the blame," he reassured you gently.

Digging into your bag, you found a green apple that Draco had given you earlier. After looking at it for a few moments, you take a bite, letting out a soft sigh, feeling relieved to have taken the first step.

Tom was taken aback by your compliance but visibly eased. He kept a close watch on you, alternating his gaze between you and the apple, ready for any sudden discomfort.

You managed a few bites, a glimmer of hope emerging as you felt relief wash over you. However, suddenly, a wave of nausea engulfed you, shattering your temporary relief.

The apple slipped from your hand, falling to the floor as you quickly made your way to the bin in the corner of the room. Tom's eyes widened in concern as he stood up, closing the distance between you.

Placing a comforting hand on your back, he gently rubbed up and down, hoping to provide you with some comfort, his heart ached as the sounds of your retching filled his ears. You felt embarrassed as you vomited, thankful that your head was hidden by the trash can. Tears mixed with distress as you struggled, feeling vulnerable in front of your professor.

Tom's heart pained with each sound you made, but he didn't turn away. He kept his hand steady on your back, offering a soothing, regular pat as he stood by you until you were completely done.

After you regained some composure, he gently led you away from the bin and helped you sit in a chair nearby. Kneeling in front of you, he kept comforting you by rubbing your back tenderly, his touch soft against your trembling body. You were breathing heavily, your hands shaking, tears streaming down your cheeks—it had only been two days, yet it already felt like an eternity.

He felt his chest constrict as he saw you in so much distress. Tom took a seat next to you on the floor, keeping his hand on your back as he gently rubbed it, trying to offer comfort without causing more distress. At that moment, all he desired was to hold you tightly and protect you from the pain until it vanished.

"If it's not gone in a week... then I can't guarantee that I’ll still be here," you murmured, your voice filled with determination.

Tom's heart raced, his hand pausing on your back. Gazing at you, his tone was resolute, allowing no room for argument. "Don't even entertain that idea, do you understand?"

"This is hell... there are no records of the dark mark causing this effect on people.. so, how are we to cure it?" you whispered, your distress apparent in your voice.

Tom felt an even deeper pang of sadness at your words. The idea of the dark mark affecting you so severely was unbearable. His mind raced with countless possibilities; there had to be a solution. Meeting your eyes, he spoke in a determined, low voice.

"We will find a way... I will find a solution for you. I refuse to give up, and I won't let you give up either. You will overcome this, you must overcome this..." he whispered the last few words to himself, in attempts to bring him comfort.

You were adamant, insisting, "One week is all I can give.. I can't keep going for much longer."

Tom's breath caught at the thought of you losing hope in a week. He held your hands tightly, his eyes filled with determination.

"No, you can't put a time on this. I promised I will find a solution for you. You can't give up," he said firmly.

"By then, I might not even be alive... You saw how it went just now. I can only keep down water... My body won't make it like this," you whispered, tears forming once again.

Your grim prediction weighed heavily on him.

"You will not be dead in a week, don’t think like that, you will come out on the better side of this.. so promise me you won’t give up so soon."

"Fine, I promise" you finally conceded, your voice almost inaudible.

Tom let out a quiet sigh of relief. While still holding your hands, he loosened his grasp slightly and began to gently stroke the backs of your hands with his thumbs. Despite intense emotions welling up inside him, he fought to keep his composure.

You sat at the Slytherin table amidst your friends, enveloped in a silence that echoed louder than any conversation. Chin resting on your hand, you stared blankly ahead, your eyes fixed on the wall, unseeing. Not a single bite of food had touched your lips since you arrived, lost in thoughts that seemed to drown out the lively chatter around you.

Sitting at the head of the staff table, Tom focused all his attention on you. He watched as you remained motionless among friends, a look of worry forming in his chest. It was evident that you had no desire to eat, your empty stare fixed on the wall as if attempting to flee from your thoughts. Nobody at the table appeared to register your distress, preoccupied with their concerns and oblivious to the inner turmoil you were experiencing.

Meanwhile your eyes fill with tears as you come to grips with the harsh reality of your situation: your life is hanging by a thread, and time is slipping away. While those around you laugh and have fun, you grapple with the grim uncertainty of how much time remains. Suddenly, you rise from your seat, disregarding your friends’ calls, and storm out of the Great Hall, seeking solace in the tranquillity of the girl's bathroom.

Tom’s eyes widen as he watches you leave in haste, concern etched deeply on his face. He sees the worry wash over him like a wave, wondering what could have driven you to leave so abruptly. Amidst the oblivious conversations at the table, he can’t ignore the urgency to check on you. Ignoring the limitations of his position as a professor, his heart compels him to go after you.

Rushing down the hallway, you rub at your eyes attempting to unsuccessfully stop the flood of tears. Arriving at the bathroom, you grip the sink tightly, knuckles turning white from the force as sobs rack your body. It feels like an endless torment, each tear a reminder to the pain that has consumed you for days.

Standing outside the bathroom door, Tom’s heart shatters with every sob that echoes through the silence. He longs to barge in, to hold you close and reassure you that everything will somehow be alright. But he remains rooted in place, torn between his duty as a professor and his overwhelming desire to comfort a distraught student.

Staring into the mirror, tears streaming down your face, you take in your grim appearance staring at back at you. Your hand finds its way to your wand, a chilling thought forming in the depths of despair. Whispering to yourself, “He doesn’t have to know” you contemplate actions that could bring an escape from your pain.

Tom is motionless when he hears your quiet words, feeling each syllable like a jolt of fear. Every instinct tells him to act, to stop any hasty decisions. With his heart pounding, he can't just stand and watch, waiting for a disaster to happen.

Tom pushes the bathroom door open and strides in with determination. Your tear-filled, red and swollen eyes meet his, showing a mix of despair and relief as he arrives.

He never looks away from your eyes as he talks, his tone remaining steady even though he's filled with emotions.

“Put the wand down…”

Your head shakes involuntarily as the weight of your words hangs heavy in the air. "I can't do this anymore…"

Tom feels his heart skip a beat at your statement. His mind races, trying to comprehend the seriousness of what you have just expressed, although he dreads that he already understands. Slowly, cautiously, he takes another step closer, his voice steady yet tinged with desperation.

"Put the wand down, please… You aren’t going to do that…"

In response, you point your wand at him, your hand trembling with the weight of your emotions. "You don't understand! You have no idea what it's like… to live like this," your voice quivers with every word.

Tom’s breath hitches as he stares down the wand pointed at him. His heart pounds, his own voice betraying the fear and concern that gnaw at him.

"It's tough, but you're stronger than this. You don't have to give up.. Please, lower the wand…"

"I don't have much time left. I can't seek help from Dumbledore, Pomfrey, or even my own brother to extend my life! This is the end… There is no solution, not in books, not even in restricted sources! Nothing!" Despair fills your voice, each word reflecting the depth of your hopelessness.

Tom fights the urge to grab the wand from your hand. Instead, he begs, his voice filled with desperation and anguish.

"I've been searching tirelessly to find anything that might be able to cure you… I just need more time…"

"You've been saying that all along… and yet, here we are," you softly say, the weight of defeat evident in your voice. It's a painful recognition of the shared battle against an unavoidable fate.

Tom appears directly in front of you, his eyes fixed on yours, his words filled with emotion.

"… Just a bit longer, please…"

"I have no time! I can't eat or sleep, I can barely function without falling down!" Tear stains mark your cheeks as you speak with emotion choking your words.

Tom’s heart feels like it's on the verge of breaking, seeing you in such pain. His own eyes well up with tears reflecting your anguish as he speaks in a trembling voice.

“Please, just a few more days. I'm working so hard to find something… Please, just hold on…”

After you lower the wand from pointing at him, a brief sense of relief crosses Tom’s face. However, it quickly changes to shock as you direct it towards your own neck. Without hesitation, he moves quickly, grabbing the wand from your grasp and pulling you close to him.

“NO!” he shouts.

You let out a cry as he wraps you in his arms, his hold strong and resolute. In that moment, you feel utterly out of control, understanding that your last attempt to escape has been foiled.

"Never do that again…"

Tom clings tightly to your arm, one hand supporting the back of your head, refusing to release you. He senses your body shaking against his, torn between distress and solace.

“no..” you object, sobbing as your hands weakly strike against his chest, futile in your resistance against his strength. "You can't put me through this!"

“I said never again…”

His tone is resolute, authoritative, as he draws you into a tighter embrace, keeping you steady.

As you struggle against him, Tom’s arms tighten around you, preventing you from falling. Your face presses against his chest, you whisper your plea, your voice barely audible.

"Stop trying to keep me alive…"

“No” his voice firm yet gentle “I will never give up on you.. never..”

Tom’s voice is resolute, refusing to entertain the notion of giving up. He holds you close, his arms a shield against your despair, determined to fight for you even when you can’t find the strength to fight for yourself.

The past few days had been an agonizing blur for the young professor. He found himself pacing in his office, flipping through tomes in a desperate search for any solution to your predicament.

He hadn't slept for two days, as the stress of knowing someone was suffering and his own inability to help ate away at his conscience. In the still darkness of his room, Tom lay awake, tormented by thoughts of you. His worry for your well-being prevented any chance of rest, despite the need to prepare for morning classes.

Tom struggled with feelings of guilt as he lay wide awake, realizing that he couldn't inquire about your well-being without crossing professional boundaries. The act of confiscating your wand in the restroom lingered in his mind; although necessary to prevent harm, it weighed heavily on his heart.

As the sun started to rise, Tom remained in bed, worn out but unable to find comfort in sleep. Dark circles accentuated his eyes, evidence of his troubled night. Thoughts of your upcoming lessons weighed on his mind; he understood that you approached each day with suffering and diminishing strength.

During the Defence Against the Dark Arts class, you found it challenging to concentrate as you sat at the back. This subject used to be your favourite, but now even the simplest tasks seem difficult to grasp. Tom, attempting to maintain his composure, moved around the students and stole glances at your distant figure.

Your usual enthusiasm had vanished, replaced by a fog of pain and exhaustion. Every moment felt like a battle against overwhelming despair, leaving concentration an impossible goal.

As the lesson came to an end, Tom watched as the students left. He stayed at his desk, pretending to organize papers, but truly waiting for an opportunity to check on you.

You gathered your things slowly as the room emptied around you, with Tom watching and feeling his heart breaking with every moment he spent witnessing your pain.

After the last student left and the door clicked shut, Tom rapidly closed the distance between us. He spoke with a soft yet urgent voice that cut through the lingering silence.

“I need to talk to you…”

"Unless it's a solution to my problem… then I don't want to hear it," you responded sharply, with frustration evident in your voice. Tom flinched, hurt evident in his eyes, but he pressed on with determination.

“I’ve been searching for a solution all this time… I haven’t found anything useful yet, but I promise I won’t give up… I’m not giving up on you…”

"Well I have," you replied bitterly, your determination unwavering. "I'm finished, Professor. Because there is no solution! There is no escape from this…"

Tom's hand gently rested on your shoulder, his touch silently pleading. His voice shook with emotion as he spoke, determined to convey his resolve.

"You can't just surrender… There must be a solution… I'll find a way to assist you, you just have to trust me…"

"You have no idea… of the torture you're putting me through," you responded, your voice filled with anguish. Tom's grip on your shoulder tightened, his pain evident as he struggled to reply.

“Just give up already” you sneer at him

Leaving without saying another word, you threw your bag over your shoulder and angrily left the classroom. Tom was torn, unsure whether to follow after you or respect the boundaries between you. With fists clenched, he chose to stay put, feeling overwhelmed by his inability to help you.

Alone in the quiet classroom, Tom felt his heart sink. He had hoped that his words would bring some comfort, but instead, they seemed to deepen the despair. Standing there, he grappled with the realization that his efforts might have pushed you further into darkness.

you made your way toward the girl’s bathroom; the burden of your illness was too much to handle in the classroom. you didn't attend lessons, instead dropping your bag and collapsing onto your knees in a stall, clutching your skirt as dry heaves wracked your body, squeezing your stomach when there was nothing left to expel.

When Tom managed to leave the classroom and get to the girls' bathroom, his heart was heavy with a premonition of what you might be going through. He couldn’t bear the thought of you facing this alone.

When he entered the bathroom, the sight of you kneeling before the toilet, retching with nothing to show for it, shattered his heart.

Tom couldn't bear to stay still any longer, so he crouched down next to you, perching on his knees. His soft hand settled on your back, making slow circles to provide reassurance.

"Just let it all out…"

You wept into the toilet, the sound carrying your anguish. Amid such a terrible moment, his comforting touch was a small source of comfort.

"shh… just breath, darling…"

Despite feeling a glimmer of calm thanks to his presence, another wave of sickness overcame you. As you opened your eyes, they met with a horrifying sight – blood pooling in the toilet, more dribbling from your mouth.

My body collapsed backward, leaning against the stall wall, panic seizing me as blood continued to flow from my lips.

Tom immediately rushed to your side, his arms supporting your weight against the wall. His heart raced with fear at the sight of your deteriorating state, feeling utterly powerless.

“Just try to stay calm, alright? Just breathe…”

Despite your efforts to regulate your breathing, fear still gripped your entire body. Tom held you tightly against him, your back pressed against his chest, his arm wrapped around your waist trying to steady your trembling form.

“It’s going to be okay, sweetheart… Just try and breathe, okay? Just keep breathing…”

Lying there against him, another violent cough wracked your body, more blood splattering out, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“I changed my mind… I don’t want to die…” you whisper, voice hoarse.

He heard the pain in your strained voice, and his heart ached for you. The blood’s effect on your throat was evident, adding to his anguish.

“You’re not going to die… you’re going to be okay, love…”

“It’s because I’m a Potter, isn’t it?” you forced a laugh, which only resulted in a fit of bloody coughs.

His heart clenched with guilt at your words. He held you tighter, yearning to ease your pain.

“Don’t speak, sweetheart. Just rest your voice for a moment, okay?”

He continued to hold you close, whispering softly, his touch and voice offering the only comfort in this harrowing moment.

“Can you look at me, sweetheart?”

Your eyes flickered up to his, and he saw the struggle within you as you forced yourself to take deep breaths.

In that bathroom stall, amidst pain and fear, you found a brief respite in his embrace. Tom’s presence was a lifeline, a steady force of comfort and support in the midst of your darkest hour.

Taking repetitive deep breaths, you choked intermittently, focused on the task he had set for you. Each breath felt like a battle against the curse ravaging your body, each cough a painful reminder of the ordeal.

His heart ached as he listened to the deep breaths interspersed with coughs. Each sound echoed the agony you endured, intensifying his guilt.

He gently pressed his palm against your forehead, gauging your feverish warmth. The realization that you were still too hot under his touch pained him deeply.

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart… just keep breathing like that…”

Tom continued his soothing touch, tracing gentle circles on your back. His other hand remained on your forehead, sensing the lingering heat despite the temporary calmness.

His heart hurt knowing this was only the beginning of your suffering. He yearned to trade places with you, to shoulder this anguish instead.

You released your grip on your skirt, letting your hand rest on your stomach. Your gaze remained fixed, concentrating on maintaining steady breaths.

Feeling you finally relax against him, Tom continued to rub your back soothingly, relieved to see you easing your grip and finding a bit of reprieve.

“Just rest your focus on keeping that steady breathing, love… You’re doing so well…”

His touch and voice brought a serene peace, helping you focus on the rhythmic breathing that brought a fleeting sense of tranquillity amidst the turmoil.

Tom found solace in your relaxed state against him. Feeling your body ease brought him a sense of comfort he desperately needed.

You felt his steady heartbeat against you, a silent assurance that you weren’t alone. His closeness offered security you hadn’t felt in a long time, a shared moment of vulnerability.

He observed as you raised your hand to wipe away the remaining blood staining your lips, a pang hitting his heart. Gently grasping your wrist, he lifts your hand away from your face, his touch soft yet firm.

“Careful… don’t keep touching your lip like that,…. I’ll take care of it in a minute…”

“It feels disgusting.. want it gone…”

Your voice was hoarse, a painful reminder of the toll the curse had taken on your throat.

Understanding your disgust and discomfort, Tom’s heart ached. He spoke softly, fingers gently guiding your chin to keep your face turned towards him.

“I know it does…. Just give me a moment, okay? I’ll take care of it, sweetheart…” You nodded slightly, trusting him to help, a flicker of relief knowing you weren’t facing this alone.

Releasing your chin, Tom retrieved his wand from his pocket. With a soft, reassuring tone, he asked you to close your eyes.

“Close your eyes for me, just for a moment…”

Hesitating briefly, you closed your eyes slowly, finding a rare moment of peace after days of turmoil.

Tom directed his wand towards your face, whispering the cleaning spell. “Tergeo…”

Watching the blood disappear, he felt a wave of relief. The sight of your clean lips eased his heart, a small reprieve from the pain etched on your face.

“You can open your eyes now, sweetheart…”

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze instantly, a sense of relief washing over him. Feeling a bit better, you were grateful not to be overwhelmed by panic.

He smiled softly, holding your face gently, his eyes fixed on yours, his voice low and soothing.

“There you are… I’m glad you seem a bit calmer now…”

You said nothing, overwhelmed with thoughts of the suffering ahead. How long would this ordeal last? “All i want is to sleep..” You muttered, too exhausted to cry.

Your exhaustion and pain were palpable in your tired voice, and it made his heart clench. He desperately hoped that you would find some relief in sleep, even if only for a short while.

"I know, love… I wish you could rest now…"

"use the enchanted sleep charm…" you whispered, softly

Your eyes pleaded with him as they met his, urging him to allow you the comfort of sleep.

Seeing your pleading gaze tugged at his heart, making him conflicted about using the sleep charm on you in such a vulnerable state. Nevertheless, he recognized that it might provide the relief you so desperately needed.

"Are you certain that's what you want?"

With concern lacing his soft voice, he hesitates as he contemplates your plea.

"I'm exhausted… Please, I need it," you say, the weariness and desperation evident in your tone.

The weight of your request burdens him, stirring a sense of guilt at the idea of using the spell on you. However, he senses your fatigue and knows he needs to do whatever he can to assist.

"Fine… I'll do it, but just for a short while, okay?" he agrees softly, his nod tinged with a mix of compassion and apprehension. In response, you nod, gratitude evident in your eyes as you understand his decision.

With appreciation for your understanding and gratitude for your trust, he offers a gentle smile despite his own uncertainties.

Gently resting his palm on your jaw, he keeps his touch tender, ensuring your eyes stay connected with his.

“Keep your eyes open for just a moment for me, okay?"

"Mhm…" You softly murmur, hoping the spell will grant you the peace you long for, even if only temporarily.

Seeing your agreement, he smiles softly, as he prepares to cast the spell.

After he utters the spell, a sense of relief washes over you. Your eyelids close gently, your breath becomes steady, and your body becomes limp in his arms.

Letting out a deep exhale, he feels a burden lift from his chest as he observes you finally finding tranquillity in sleep.

He maintains his closeness, gently holding your relaxed body. From your forehead to your hair, his fingertips softly glide, providing comfort as he places a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

"There you go… You're safe."

Since the sleep charm took hold of your body, time seemed to stretch on endlessly. Vomiting blood had become apart of your daily routine, as regular as the sunrise. It had been two weeks since the cursed mark first showed up, yet any hint of a remedy remained out of reach.

During Defence Against the Dark Arts class, you remained silent, feeling your hope fade with each passing moment. Tom's attentive gaze never wandered far from you as he conducted his lecture. His worry was obvious, seen in the quick glances he cast your way, observing every hint of discomfort or pain that flitted across your face.

While you struggled to concentrate on Tom's teachings, you couldn't shake the feeling of his intense gaze fixated on you. Just when you started to feel some peace, the familiar metallic taste flooded your mouth, causing a wave of silent panic. The presence of other students in the room only amplified your anxiety, as you knew what was about to unfold.

Tom continued with his lesson, fully engrossed, but he remained acutely aware of any small changes in your behaviour. His heart sank as he saw the panic taking over you, indicating the beginning of another round of suffering. Without a second thought, he carefully made his way over to you, his steps purposeful yet inconspicuous, not wanting to attract unnecessary attention.

Seconds passed, and before you could react, pain seized you, doubling over in your seat as blood spilled from your lips. Tom reached you swiftly, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm. Kneeling beside you, he glanced briefly at the other students before focusing entirely on your distress.

"This is so humiliating," you whispered hoarsely, tears welling up as you struggled to contain the situation. Tom's voice, low and steady, cut through the chaos, soothing me with reassurance.

"Try to block them out for now. Concentrate on your breathing."

"Please, get me out of here," you pleaded, your tear-filled eyes locked onto his.

Tom's response was immediate and decisive. "Come on. I'll take you to the infirmary."

Taking a deep breath, you steadied yourself, finding a glimmer of hope in his steady guidance. Holding tightly onto his hand, we navigated the corridors, his voice a gentle murmur of encouragement as we neared the sanctuary of the infirmary.

"Just a little further, sweetheart," he murmured softly, his touch a comforting reassurance against the turmoil raging inside you.

Upon reaching the infirmary, relief washed over us as the door swung open, ushering us into a haven of calm amidst the turmoil of the day. The room was quiet, save for a few occupied beds, offering a sense of privacy and respite. Tom led you to an unoccupied bed, his demeanour calm yet filled with concern as he helped you settle.

"Here we are, away from prying eyes," he said gently, his words a balm to your frazzled nerves.

"I just want it to be over," you whimpered, fresh tears streaming down your cheeks.

Tom's heart ached at your anguish, his touch tender as he comforted you. "I know, sweetheart. I wish there was more I could do to ease your pain."

Sensing a presence nearby, you whispered anxiously, "What if she sees the mark?"

Tom's expression turned serious, his voice low as he assured you, "It'll be alright. Stay calm. I'll make sure she doesn't notice."

Nodding in trust, you felt a wave of relief knowing Tom was there to shield you. Madam Pomfrey approached, her eyes scrutinizing our scene with a mix of concern and authority.

Tom met Madam Pomfrey's gaze steadily, his expression calm despite the urgency he felt. He knew he had to tread carefully to protect you from any unnecessary scrutiny.

"Madam Pomfrey, she's feeling unwell," he began, his voice measured and composed. "I was just bringing her here to rest for a bit."

Madam Pomfrey's gaze shifted to you, her brow furrowing as she took in your pale complexion and the traces of blood on your face. Her concern deepened, but Tom maintained his reassuring demeanour.

"She had a sudden bout of illness in class," Tom continued, choosing his words carefully. "I thought it best to bring her here immediately."

Madam Pomfrey nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing slightly as she assessed the situation. She approached you with a gentle but firm manner, preparing to examine you more closely.

"Let me take a look at you, dear," she said kindly, reaching for her wand. "We'll see what we can do to help."

You glanced nervously at Tom, silently pleading for his guidance in this moment of uncertainty. He nodded subtly, his eyes conveying reassurance as he squeezed your hand gently.

"It's okay," he whispered softly. "She's here to help."

You nodded hesitantly, allowing Madam Pomfrey to proceed with her examination. Tom stood by your side, his presence a steady anchor amidst the turmoil of the situation. As Madam Pomfrey began her assessment, Tom kept a watchful eye on you, silently praying for a solution to end your suffering.

Madam Pomfrey's examination was thorough yet gentle, her experienced hands and wand moving with practiced precision as she checked your vitals and assessed your condition. With each passing moment, Tom's concern grew palpable, his eyes never leaving your face, silently urging you to stay strong through this ordeal.

After what felt like an eternity of tense silence, Madam Pomfrey finally straightened up, her expression thoughtful yet composed. She glanced between you and Tom before speaking in a calm tone that belied the seriousness of the situation.

"I can see you're going through a lot, dear," she began, her voice laced with empathy. "We'll need to take some measures to manage your symptoms and monitor your condition closely."

Tom nodded in agreement, his gaze unwavering as he silently conveyed his support for whatever course of action Madam Pomfrey deemed necessary. He knew this was beyond his expertise, trusting in her ability to provide the best care possible.

Madam Pomfrey then turned to Tom, her expression softening slightly as she addressed him directly.

"Mr. Riddle, I'll need your assistance in ensuring her comfort and maintaining her privacy," she said with a hint of urgency. "We must keep a close watch on her condition and any developments."

Tom nodded again, his commitment to protecting your well-being unwavering. "Of course, Madam Pomfrey," he responded calmly. "I'll do whatever is needed to help."

With that, Madam Pomfrey began to lead the way, guiding both of you to a nearby bed where you could rest and receive the care you needed. Tom remained by your side, his hand still clasped gently in yours, offering silent reassurance and support as you navigate this challenging moment together.

As you settled onto the bed under Madam Pomfrey's watchful eye, Tom took a seat beside you, his presence a steadfast comfort amidst the uncertainty. He knew the road ahead would be difficult, but he was determined to stand by your side every step of the way, supporting you with unwavering loyalty and compassion.

"I'm scared," you quietly confided in him, making sure not to be overheard by the matron, the fear in your voice unmistakable.

Tom felt his heart tighten at your admission. Moving closer, he urgently but gently reassured you, his voice a comforting presence amid the anxiety surrounding us.

"I understand, love. It's natural to be afraid. But you're not alone. Madam Pomfrey is doing everything in her power to help us figure this out. Try to stay calm, okay?"

"Okay," you murmured softly, his hand gently squeezing yours in a gesture of silent support..

Your response brought a flicker of relief to Tom, and he was thankful that his touch could provide comfort in your shared unease. He held onto your hand firmly, keeping his gaze steady as Madam Pomfrey examined with a concerned and puzzled expression.

"Your body is being affected by some unknown form of magic, but I can't determine the exact cause," she said with furrowed brows.

Madam Pomfrey's words filled Tom with a surge of anxiety, as the uncertainty of the situation weighed heavily on him. He recognized that despite her expertise, there were limitations to what she could uncover. He turned to you, his eyes reflecting the concern that mirrored your own. "We'll figure this out," he murmured reassuringly, though his voice held a note of unease. "We just need to be patient and trust that Madam Pomfrey will find a way."

You weakly nodded, attempting to compose yourself despite the fear eating away at you inside. Tom's presence next to you was a source of stability, grounding you in the midst of the medical jargon.

Madam Pomfrey continued to examine the charts and magical symbols she had summoned, her forehead creasing further with each passing moment. "The healing charms are producing an unusual reaction," she murmured more to herself than to us. "There's a resistance that I can't quite explain."

Tom moved in closer, speaking in a hushed tone, "What does that mean?" Her gaze flickered between us, her expression troubled. "It means," she began carefully, "that whatever is affecting you is unlike anything I've encountered before. It's not just magical, it's… complex."

Her words made your heart sink, as a surge of despair felt like it might consume you. Tom silently expressed his support by tightening his grip on your hand. "What are our options?" he inquired, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his eyes.

Madam Pomfrey let out a soft sigh, her sympathetic gaze fixed on you. "At the moment, we'll observe and wait. I'll speak with some colleagues to gather any insights or experiences with similar cases."

and wait we did. patiently.

Weeks passed with a relentless rhythm of uncertainty and hope in the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey's consultations with other healers yielded little clarity on the mysterious ailment that gripped you. Despite her best efforts and the collective wisdom of experts, your condition continued to confound them all.

Tom remained a constant presence by your side, his support unwavering even as fatigue etched lines of concern on his face. Each day, he arrived early, often before you woke, and stayed late into the night, offering comfort through the long hours of tests, treatments, and waiting.

The infirmary became a second home, its white walls and sterile smell a stark contrast to the vibrant life you once knew outside. You missed the bustle of the Great Hall, the laughter of students, the company of your friends and your brother and the routine of classes. But most of all, you missed the freedom of being healthy and carefree.

Yet, despite his efforts, there were moments of despair that even his unwilling support couldn't dispel. On the darkest nights, when pain kept sleep at bay and fear gripped your heart like a vice, you would lie awake, listening to the distant sounds of the castle and wondering if life beyond these walls would ever be yours again.

One night, the infirmary window was illuminated by the silver glow of the moon, and you were having difficulty breathing. The pain had grown stronger, an unyielding ache that felt like it was penetrating every part of you. Beside you, Tom shifted in his chair, his eyes showing concern as he reached out to hold your hand.

"Are you feeling alright?" His voice was tender, but you could sense the underlying worry.

You managed a weak nod, though the effort left you breathless. "Just… hurts," you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible.

Tom pressed a cool cloth to your forehead, his touch soothing against your clammy skin. "I'm here," he murmured softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "We'll get through this, I promise."

The words offered a flicker of comfort, but you couldn't shake the fear that this pain marked a worsening of your condition. Madam Pomfrey had done everything within her power, yet answers remained elusive, leaving you to confront the harsh reality that your time might be running out.

Days blurred into nights, each filled with a cycle of hope and despair. Tom continued to balance his responsibilities as a professor with his unwavering commitment to your care. His dedication was a testament to the depth of his feelings, a silent declaration that spoke volumes even amid the chaos of your circumstances.

One afternoon, as sunlight filtered through the infirmary windows, Madam Pomfrey entered with a somber expression. Her footsteps echoed softly on the tiled floor, drawing both your attention.

"I've consulted with healers from across Europe," she began, her voice tinged with a mixture of exhaustion and determination. "There's one last possibility we haven't explored."

Tom leaned forward, his expression hopeful yet cautious. "What is it?"

She hesitated for a moment, as if gathering her thoughts. "There's a rare potion, ancient and highly complex," she explained slowly. "It's not without risks, but given the circumstances…"

Your heart raced at the glimmer of hope her words ignited. Tom squeezed your hand gently, his eyes locked on Madam Pomfrey. "What do we need to do?"

Her gaze softened, recognizing the fragile thread of optimism that tethered you to her expertise. "I'll need to prepare the ingredients," she said quietly. "It will take time, and there are no guarantees."

Tom nodded solemnly, his resolve unwavering. "Do whatever you need to do," he said firmly. "We trust you."

Madam Pomfrey nodded, a hint of gratitude in her tired eyes. "I'll begin immediately," she assured you both before turning to gather the necessary components.

Working diligently to mix potions and prepare spells, Tom stood by my side, offering quiet comfort and companionship. We both understood the high stakes and uncertain outcome, but in that moment, hope burned bright in the face of adversity.

Hours stretched into agonizing anticipation, the air thick with tension as Madam Pomfrey meticulously completed her preparations. Finally, with a sigh of relief, she turned to both of you, a vial in hand.

"This is it," she said quietly, her voice carrying the weight of responsibility. "It needs to be administered carefully. Are you ready?"

You glanced at Tom, seeing the mirrored hope and fear reflected in his eyes. You nodded slowly, your heart pounding with a mixture of apprehension and desperate hope.

Madam Pomfrey approached with measured steps, her demeanor focused yet gentle. "This potion will be administered in small doses," she explained as she prepared a syringe with meticulous care. "It's designed to counteract the effects of the unknown magic, but its potency requires caution."

Tom took a steadying breath, his hand tightening around yours as Madam Pomfrey injected the first dose. A surge of warmth spread through your veins, followed by a wave of dizziness that made you clutch Tom's hand tighter.

"It's working," Madam Pomfrey murmured, a glimmer of relief in her voice. "Just a little more."

The minutes ticked by, each dose bringing a gradual easing of the pain that had plagued you for so long. Tom's presence beside you was a constant anchor, his quiet strength bolstering your resolve as you navigated this final, precarious hope.

At last, when the final dose was administered, Madam Pomfrey stepped back, her eyes fixed on you with a mixture of hope and apprehension. "Now we wait," she said softly.

Tom leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. "You're going to be alright," he whispered fiercely, his voice trembling with emotion.

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to believe in the possibility of a future beyond the confines of the infirmary walls. Beside you, Tom remained vigilant, his hand never leaving yours as you waited for the potion to take effect.

Hours passed in tense silence, the weight of your collective hope and fear hanging heavy in the air. Then, as dawn painted the sky outside the window, you felt a shift. The pain ebbed further, replaced by a sense of calm that settled deep within your weary bones.

"It's working," Madam Pomfrey breathed, her voice filled with wonder.

Tom's grip on your hand tightened, his relief palpable. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you whispered a silent prayer of gratitude, overwhelmed by the enormity of the moment.

With each passing hour, the effects of the potion became more pronounced, restoring strength and vitality that had seemed lost forever. You and Tom shared moments of cautious optimism, daring to dream of a future where laughter and light once again filled your days.

Days turned into weeks as you continued to recover under Madam Pomfrey's vigilant care. The infirmary walls no longer felt like a prison but a sanctuary where healing and hope flourished.

Tom was there every step of the way, celebrating small victories and offering unwavering support during setbacks. His love and devotion became the bedrock upon which you rebuilt your strength, his presence a constant reminder that life's greatest challenges could be faced with courage and resilience.

As you finally prepared to leave the infirmary, a mixture of emotions swirled within you. Gratitude for those who had stood by your side, determination to reclaim the life that had been put on hold, and a profound sense of love for the man who had never wavered in his belief that you could overcome even the darkest of trials.

Standing together at the threshold of a new beginning, Tom took your hand in his, his eyes shining with pride and joy. "We made it," he said softly, his voice filled with awe.

You nodded, overwhelmed by emotions that rendered you speechless. Instead of attempting words, you gazed up into his deep, dark eyes, now filled with hope and relief, sparkling like never before. Memories flooded your mind—moments of unwavering loyalty, his steadfast support through every trial. As you looked into his eyes, the golden sunlight bathing you both, a surge of courage and gratitude welled up inside.

Resting gently on his chest with one hand and finding its place on the back of his neck with the other, your lips hovered close to his, almost brushing against his, drawing you closer with a magnetic pull until the remaining distance was closed. The rush of warmth and reassurance spread through you the moment your lips met his. Instantly, his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you tenderly, silently acknowledging the shared relief and joy.

You savored the taste of his lips, the feel of his arms around you, knowing that together, you had faced the darkest of trials and emerged stronger.

Breaking the kiss gently, you rested your forehead against his, breathing in sync with his steady heartbeat. "Thank you," you whispered softly, your voice barely audible but filled with all the love and gratitude you felt.

Tom's eyes, still locked with yours, reflected a depth of emotion that matched your own. "I love you," he murmured, his voice filled with emotion. "I love you too," you whispered, your voice shaking with the intensity of your emotions.

A tear of happiness escaped your eye as you spoke, tracing a path down your cheek as his words reached your ears.

As you looked ahead to the future, uncertainties still lingered, but you knew that as long as you were together, you could face whatever challenges lay ahead.

With Tom beside you, you felt invincible, ready to embrace the new beginnings that awaited outside the walls that had confined you for so long. The journey ahead would be filled with its own trials and joys, but with his love lighting the way, you were certain that your shared future would be nothing short of extraordinary.

And as the sun sets over Hogwarts, casting a warm glow over the grounds, you embrace the future with open hearts and a love that has proven itself unbreakable.

#fanfic #angst #fluff #professor tom riddle #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x reader #professor tom riddle x reader #tom riddle #tom hughes #harry potter #harry potter fanfic

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yovrnewromantic · 4 months ago

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SNEAK PEAK OF TOM RIDDLE FIC/SERIES IF IM EVER IN THAT PHASE AGAIN <3

“Mind explaining my grade to me, Professor,” you spit. A sharp slam echoes from his ebony desk, the weight of your hand roughly forcing the scribble-covered parchment onto the wood shakes the table. A large red circle surrounds the word ‘Dreadful’. It stares up at the ceiling. Tom is hardly phased, eyes shifting to look at your paper as if it was unknown to him-- like he hadn’t unintentionally stored the memory of carefully sketching the letters on your essay with a smirk. “Yet, you can hardly be called that. Personal feelings should not be involved with a teacher’s grading.”

Tom tsks, assessing the wild infuriation in your eyes. His lips yearn to quirk. Instead, his slender fingers reach the paper on his desk, clasping your essay. He holds it out to you, leaning back in his chair. The wheels squeak in the silence. He only begins talking when you snatch your assignment out of his hands.

“I assure you my grading has nothing to do with my personal feelings. It’s entirely based on your work ethic and performance.”

#yovrnewromantic #tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #professor!tom riddle #professor riddle #professor tom riddle #professor tom riddle x reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter

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codnriddlewhore · 27 days ago

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A/N: guys idk how to make thos links someone teach me plsssss and i hope u like this, i decided to post 2 shorter parts instead of 1 long one, felt nicer. next part is gonna be set some years later and itll be maaaybe a tad bit happier. dont hesitate to say anything, good or bad, mwah

wc: 965

She left earlier, of course.

The day after, to be precise. It was a slow and quiet morning. She felt at peace and torn apart at the same time. Can you feel that way? Maybe like someone that felt content with the way they lived their life, though now being stuck in a tornado.

Tom´s wife was sitting on the breakfast table with one leg propped up on the chair, wearing one of his jumpers and a teacup in her hand, smiling to herself and only having kissed him good morning and asked if he wanted tea. It angered him. Of course it did, she was always and every day the biggest chatterbox in the morning, excited about the day. He sometimes joked that it annoyed him. He hoped she realized the joke. He lived off her feeding him her presence. And who smiles like that, does he have a stain on his tie? Did she pack him heart shaped-sandwiches? I mean what else could´ve-

“Why aren´t you getting dressed? We`ve got to leave in-“

He checks his watch.

“exactly 13 minutes. I love you, but I know you wouldn´t make it.

She looks up from her tea, smiling again. He could sense it wasn´t the adorable type, it made his stomach turn. Something was wrong.

Well of course something was wrong Riddle, you´re ignoring the fact that you weren´t able to breath after the argument last night and that, you incontrollable child threw up all over the fucking bathroom you-

“Oh Minerva took the 2nd years to Hogsmeade for the morning, got 3 free periods.”

Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. You never lie to me, you´ve never lied to me- What did I do, please, I´m begging you to go back day before yesterday with me I can´t fucking stand this

Of course he knew what he did, though did it deserve such a reaction? From both of them?

She stands up, gets very close to him and musters a real smile, one that made her eyes really small and showed her gums. It took all of her willpower left to do so. For him, It made his before mentioned train of thought stop.

Okay, of course it´s still her. It´s his wife.

She straightens his wobbly tie, there was no need to do so on other mornings. Another look in his eyes, knowing she´s the probably the only person that will see the truth in them. The fear. The other wobbly thing in the room were his legs when she kissed him, deeply, not hungry, but lovingly and meaningfully.

“Be nice. They´ll love you”

“Pfft, absolutely, don´t they always?”, he didn´t want to make a joke in such a moment but I guess he felt human, wanting to lift the atmosphere.

In the years after, they´d both remember this moment countless of times, she grinning like a child that remembered their last cool birthday party and he as in the objectively worst choice of words he ever made.

It was time, she felt it in the air. She'd die otherwise. Her to-do-list was now fairly simple, though the circumstances added some points.

pack Cry Put music on to distract Sob Pack Unpack Sob Look forward to life Pack Leave her faveorite blanket. He secretly thinks it´s fluffy. He gets cold easily. cry Cry happy tears because how fortunate is she to have spent 3 years with such a magnificent person. Pack Write note Cry but just a tad Breathe. Make tea. Put a lid on his cup so it stays hot. Breathe Smile Leave

Tom came home early. Who fucking cares about the pre-OWLs, he knows there´s the quidditch finale tonight and no one will concentrate. 1st day after Christmas break, whose idea was that.

Was she still in the school? He didn´t see her, though he didn´t particularly go look for her, he knows when to back off. She sometimes “regenerated” in her own space.

He got comfortable in his house and went into the ki- Did he forget his tea this morning? Seems unusual.

a note.

No.

In a pace an Olympic fast-walker would be jealous of, he makes his way to the library and sits down in the old, brown leather chair. His eyeballs hurt from his palms pressing into them, a strategy from the orphanage when he was first mocked for crying, it prevented the tears wonderfully. Tom sat like that for a few minutes, his left leg bouncing up and down and increasing in speed.

No.

Abruptly Tom stands up and walks over to the bookshelf with her little detective novels and big encyclopedias on algae and what not. His shaking hand pulls one out, the title doesn´t matter. He stares at it. He smells it. It doesn´t smell like her, at all. Why would it? It´s just a book. Was she real?

From his mouth comes not a growl, not a scream, what is it? He simply knows he hasn´t made that noise in a very long time and it almost accurately described his emotions. Almost. Nothing ever really will, he believes, though he´ll find a word for word description of his thoughts many years later. The book is now in about 14 pieces, torn apart, unreadable. Something wet runs over his hot cheeks. The knee-part of his grey slacks is ruined by the wet grass. He thought he´d suffocate inside.

Dearest Tommy,

I think I said everything I meant last night, though my devotion to you is hard to word.

You are the most precious, wonderful thing that has happened to me.

I want you to accept yourself.

To see yourself as I do.

You´re too much of a gift to existence and love in general to reduce yourself to a cause.

I love you, my Darling.

There were a few more words in between, but the tear stains made them unreadable. He´d get to reading it at some point. Maybe.

#angst tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #professor tom riddle #x reader #harry potter #tom riddle au

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generallyhux · 2 months ago

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Extra Lessons • Professor Tom Riddle

Summary: Professor Riddle gives his favorite student a lesson in Occlumency

A/N: NFSW, originally posted to AO3

Enjoy! :)

*******************************************************

October 1955

Grading papers was Tom Riddle ’s least favorite task as a professor. If these were the students that were to go out and become the next generation of the Wizarding World, they were all doomed. Hardly any of them could comprehend the difference between the Expulso and the Reductor Curses, and their attempts at describing hexes were laughable.

His original design in getting the position was, of course, to seduce Hogwarts’ young minds and accentuate the power of dark magic. Instead, he found that there was not one single specimen in this castle that he would even consider worthy of his time and expertise.

Except for her.

Riddle looked down at the essay he was currently reading. The penmanship was elegant, letters looping together in a way that was just begging to be read. Her essays were the only ones worth reading, the only ones that would ever receive his praise.

Everyone called her Kitty, though she always used her full name on his assignments - Catherine Carr. A seventh-year in Ravenclaw and the top of her class, she excelled at everything. Her knowledge on most subjects was beyond those above her in both experience and age.

He, however, had much he wanted to teach her. He knew that she could be useful to him someday, but to ensure she was up to par, it wouldn’t hurt to mold her into the witch he needed by his side. Riddle had to test her - prove that she was truly made of sterner stuff.

He knew just the way to do that.

At the conclusion of his next lesson, he waited for most of the class to exit. Kitty still sat at her table near the front, gingerly placing her books into her bag as she often did.

“Miss Carr,” Riddle said, “would you mind staying? There’s something I have to discuss with you.”

She nodded, “Of course, Professor Riddle.”

He led the way to his office with Kitty following a few paces behind, ringing her clammy hands behind her. To her understanding, Professor Riddle had never asked for a student to stay behind.

Entering the small office, he offered Kitty a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk. The room itself was dark, lit by a few candles, but the young witch could make out some titles of the books that littered the room and stuffed the shelves against the walls. She was only a little surprised to find most of the material covered in these books was very dark magic.

Now seated at his desk, Riddle looked at the girl across from him, but her eyes couldn’t seem to meet him.

“You are a very bright girl,” Riddle started. “Perhaps more intelligent than anyone I have taught before.”

“Thank you, sir,” Kitty said. Her pale complexion turned slightly pink at the compliment.

Riddle continued, “Your OWL scores were impeccable and it is my understanding that upon your graduation, you wish to work for the Ministry.”

Kitty nodded, unsure of where this was heading.

“As a seventh-year, you are preparing for your career and I want to aid in that preparation.”

“In what way?” Kitty asked.

“Are you familiar with Occlumency?” Riddle replied. He paid special attention to the way her eyes lit up at the word.

“It’s the act of closing your mind against external forces,” she stated. Kitty had read many books on the subject, but performing the mental block was something beyond her capacity.

“Not only is it useful, it is a rare and difficult skill. It is not a part of the curriculum, but I believe you to be an inquisitive witch and would prefer to teach you in a way I see fit.” Riddle’s words rolled smoothly off of his tongue.

This was not true, but she would never know; this was for purely selfish reasons. Catherine Carr was the first student in his five years of teaching that displayed signs of dedication to the craft. Perhaps she was a little too innocent at the given time, but he could mold her into the witch she ought to be.

He was aware of the impact he had on these young students - the female ones in particular - and Miss Carr was no exception. Riddle noticed the way her lips formed a small smile when he called on her to answer challenging questions and how a tinge of pink dusted her pale complexion when he praised her swift responses.

She was rendered speechless at her professor’s offer, but hastily accepted the opportunity with a graciousness that almost made Riddle feel something like guilt. But nothing she could have done would stop his efforts now.

He sent Kitty on her way with some mind-blocking exercises to work on and scheduled their first session for the following week. Tom’s eyes followed her down the corridor until she turned from view.

Lust was not a trait Riddle had though he possessed. In his post-Hogwarts years, he had found himself in the company of a few young witches that turned into little more than one-night stands. He considered his wild oats to be sowed; the presence of Miss Carr stirred something deep within him, however.

It disgusted him to think he was no better than any other man, desiring a younger woman clad in a short skirt. But she was different. She was rather plain, he thought, but her intelligence made her incredibly desirable.

A week later he was sitting at his desk when the soft knock came at the door.

“Come in.”

Kitty entered the office, fidgeting slightly with her wand. “Good evening, Professor.”

“Good evening, Miss Carr. You may have a seat,” Riddle motioned to the armchair in the corner of the room by the bookshelves and the young witch sat down.

He continued, “I hope you have been working on the exercises I taught you, they’ll prove very beneficial as I begin prodding into your mind.”

At that, Kitty shivered slightly. Prodding into her mind? She knew what Occlumency entailed, but what if he found… those thoughts?

Yes, she was the brightest witch in her class and yes, she thought herself above the dating scene of Hogwarts, but who hadn’t had a crush on their teacher? And who hadn’t had thoughts of doing scandalous things with their very young and attractive professor?

“Let us begin,” Riddle said. “Legilimens!”

Unsurprising to Kitty, he was able to perform the spell wandlessly and therefore she was taken off guard when she felt him flood into her mind. All attempts to clear her thoughts were thwarted by his presence.

An 11-year-old Kitty sat on a stool in the Great Hall as the Sorting Hat was placed on her head. Almost in an instant the hat cried out, “Ravenclaw!” The Hall erupted into cheers and the young girl giddily made her way to her house’s table.

A few years later, she was seated in the courtyard working on homework when a gaggle of girls in her class scurried by. They were giggling quite loudly over something Kitty was not privy to. However, any question she had was answered when the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor crossed the courtyard and the girls were once more wracked with squeals and red faces. Kitty, too, found the appeal, but she did her blushing in private.

The scene shifted forward to her sixth-year where Kitty found herself in the library scribbling out the final sentence in her essay with a sigh. She rubbed her bleary eyes, careful not to transfer any of the ink from her hands to her face. Suddenly she felt a pair of eyes on her and looked up to meet Professor Riddle staring deeply from across the way. She was slightly taken aback from the attention, causing her breath to catch in her throat and her cheeks to flush a dark shade of red. This was not lost on her professor who began to smirk before swiftly exiting the library.

Once more her surroundings blurred around her and focused on the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Kitty was sitting at her usual spot near the front hanging on to every word spilling out of Professor Riddle’s mouth. Her head rested in her hand, eyes not moving from Riddle ’s form. She didn’t notice she was gawking until her friend sitting next to her gave Kitty a quick nudge to her arm and her attention shifted to the exam on her desk.

Riddle was jolted back to his dimly lit office and in an uncharacteristic move, he leaned back on his desk for support. Clearly Kitty had not done her best at blocking him from her mind, but after viewing the last memory, she had forcefully casted him out.

Kitty appeared out of breath and flushing a deep shade of crimson. While she had never mastered eye contact, Riddle noticed she refused to look up at him.

Feeling he needed to exploit the poor girl even more, he pressed on. “I could feel you shutting me out near the end which is a step in the right direction. This time, I’m going to push even further.”

“Please, sir,” Kitty said quietly, “I don’t think I can do any more.”

Riddle smirked, “Why ever not, Miss Carr? What else would I see if we continued?”

Kitty’s mouth went dry. What was he insinuating?

He continued, “That last thought was very interesting. May I ask why that was significant to you?”

“Erm - I don’t remember what it was,” she lied. Abruptly standing up from the chair, she slowly walked towards the door. “Thank you, Professor, for the lesson, but I really should be going now.”

As she reached for the handle, Riddle silently flicked his wand and the door locked before she had the chance to open it. In two strides he was across his office and facing Kitty which prompted a squeak from the girl.

“I think we have something to discuss.”

“P-Professor Riddle,” she stuttered, flushing even deeper.

Riddle grabbed her wrists and held them above her head. He was usually much better at composing himself, but seldom was he in a position of such control; he was beginning to feel something stirring within himself. Something that would not be contained for much longer.

“What’s wrong, Miss Carr? Isn’t this exactly what you wanted?”

She was trying to respond, he noticed, but nothing was coming out. He was a great deal taller than her and when he looked into her eyes, he saw how dilated her pupils were. Kitty was aroused and there was nothing she could say that would deny it.

The young witch let out another pathetic mewl, but it only strengthened Riddle ’s desire for her.

“Please, sir.” It was barely a whisper, but he clung to her words.

“Please what?” Riddle asked. His empty hand was now cupping Kitty’s neck, thumb rubbing against her pulse point slowly. Her heartbeat was rapid.

“I need… I need…”

“What do you need, Miss Carr?” Riddle practically purred in her ear.

“You, sir.”

That was all Riddle wanted to hear. Within a second his mouth was on hers, parting her lips with his tongue. She tasted sweet - bubblegum. He was briefly reminded that she was barely seventeen. And his student.

The most wonderful noises were escaping Kitty’s throat and melodically filling the dim office as his mouth traveled to her neck making sure to suck hard on the most sensitive parts. Riddle flicked his wand once more, wordlessly placing a silencing charm on the room to keep her sounds from getting out. Perhaps it was juvenile, leaving the trail of dark purple marks on her previously unblemished skin, but the thought of her looking at them and being reminded of who made them was exquisite.

Riddle led them back to his desk. As if she were a doll, he picked her up by the waist and placed her on top, nudging himself between her legs. His mouth was attacking hers now with such force that when they broke away, her lips were red and puffy. Kitty’s eyes were wide - frightened, almost, as if her mind was catching up to what was happening, but Riddle, sensing her discomfort, simply stroked her cheek with a warm hand.

“What’s wrong, kitten,” he tutted, “I thought this is what you wanted?”

At that, her hips practically bucked forward, making contact with his throbbing member. His hands snaked down to grab at her exposed thighs. He hadn’t noticed how far her skirt had ridden up during their interaction and he couldn’t help but let out a groan at the sight of her exposed milky-white thighs gripping his waist.

“Please, sir! I need you inside of me,” Kitty begged as her professor continued to grind into her warm center.

Riddle silently agreed with the girl, but he wasn’t done playing with her just yet. He wanted to hear those sweet sounds spilling from his favorite student’s lips a little while longer - wanted to hear her whine and beg for him.

“Oh, my sweet little kitten,” he moaned, “you’ve been so patient - so good for me. Perhaps you deserve a treat.”

Slithering up her smooth thighs, his fingers latched around her panties, slowly dragging them down until they fell to the floor at his feet. He leaned down to inspect her core and felt his stiff cock throb even more than before. A dusting of hair covered her swollen folds which were covered with a sheen of arousal. He gave her a quick kiss to the mouth before gently laying her down on his desk.

He parted her lips and lazily rubbed circles on her mound with his thumb, causing Kitty to release another explicit moan.

“Oh, Professor,” she whined.

Looking up at her he raised his eyebrow quizzically, “What do you want, my pet?”

He began to make quicker loops around her pulsating clit. All she could get out was, “More!”

As he himself wanted a release, he obliged her request and got to work. Replacing his thumb with his mouth, he sucked and licked at her center, his supple tongue moving in rhythmically. Once again, the sounds coming from the young witch were obscene, causing Riddle to keep at his pace.

After a few minutes, he let his tongue slip into her tight entrance, groaning at the thought of being inside of his favorite student - his little pet. Hungrily he lapped at the wetness gushing out of her.

“You’re being such a good girl, aren’t you?” Riddle hummed into her and spread her legs even further, “Keep those legs open for me, kitten.”

“Oh, sir, I’m gonna - I’m gonna-”

Riddle removed himself from Kitty’s center which elicited a cry of displeasure from the girl.

“Not yet, my pet,” he chastised. “Not before I’ve had my fun.”

He made quick work of removing her blouse and skirt before undressing himself. His large member sprang free from its constraints making Kitty’s eyes to widen in disbelief and her face reddened.

Her small hand reached out to take a hold of his cock and the contact alone made Riddle’s hips jerk involuntarily.

Riddle stroked his student’s cheek once again before slipping a thumb between her still swollen lips. Her tongue swirled around the digit and she looked up at her professor unsure.

“That’s right, my kitten,” Riddle nodded, “Get on your knees for me.”

The young witch obliged, kneeling in front of him and tentatively opening her mouth to let him in. Riddle hissed at the contact from her warm, velvety mouth. His fingers tangled themselves into her hair and he brought her head further down on his cock.

He continued to pound into Kitty’s throat mercilessly, relishing the slight choking noises that came with it and the tears that formed at the corners of her eyes. He felt himself getting close and pulled out before he could spill into her.

Riddle pulled Kitty up from the floor and unceremoniously bent her over his desk, exposing even more of her pale and unmarked flesh which he quickly palmed with a groan. Her whining was getting louder and her legs parted as an invitation, thighs wet with her slickness.

“What do you want, my sweet pet? Hmm?” Riddle cooed into her ear, giving her earlobe a nibble.

“You, sir,” she whimpered, “I need you.”

Riddle let out a chuckle, “And what do you need me to do?”

“I want you to - I need you -”

“C’mon, you can say it,” he murmured.

Her voice was barely a whisper, “I need you to fuck me, professor.”

That was all Riddle needed to hear. He reached down to collect Kitty’s juices and pumped his pulsating cock a few times with her slick. Lining up with her entrance he gave a tentative thrust, but her entrance was so tight he wasn’t able to get more than the tip in.

“So tight for me, kitten,” Riddle growled in her ear. “Is this your first time?”

She squeaked out an answer that Riddle took as an affirmative.

“I need you to relax for me, alright? Can you do that?”

Kitty gave a shaky nod, “Yes, sir.”

Gently pushing in further, Riddle bottomed out in her tight hole. His hands were grabbing her waist so hard he knew there would be bruises. He couldn’t believe how wet she was; the wet squelching noises and their loud moans that echoed in his office was like a symphony to his ears.

His hand slithered up from her middle to clutch her throat, forcing her to look up and make eye contact. Her mouth opened to let out a moan and he spat in it; her eyes rolled back in her head from pleasure.

“Oh - fuck - you’re being so good for me,” Riddle panted. He was teetering on the edge of coming and while he may be taking advantage of his young student, he wanted to at least make sure she came first.

She was clenching on his cock, getting close to the edge as well. While he wanted to savor her a little longer, he wanted to fill her pussy with his seed.

“Your cunt is so tight,” Riddle grunted. His free hand went to cup her sex and started to rub circles around her clit once again.

“Professor,” she cried, “I’m gonna come.”

“Come for me, kitten. Come on my cock.” Riddle’s thrusts quickened, helping her get to the point of release.

Within seconds her orgasm took over and Riddle felt her spasm all over his cock which sparked his own peak. Together their fluids mingled together and he collapsed on top of her, peppering light kisses on her shoulder.

He removed himself from her center and magicked them clean. Conjuring up a glass of water, he sat Kitty down on the armchair and helped her drink from it as he stroked her hair.

Riddle was the first to break the silence, “You were wonderful, Miss Carr.”

Though he had seen every part of her and had just been inside of her, she still had the decency to blush at the notion.

“Erm - thank you, Professor,” she mumbled, “for the lessons.”

“I think we may need to cover more material next week,” he smirked. After a few moments of letting the young witch catch her breath, he led her to the door, hand on the small of her back. “Have a good evening, Miss Carr.”

“Goodnight, Professor Riddle,” she smiled before leaving for her dormitory.

The young professor sat back at his desk, staring down at the surface where moments earlier he had been defiling his even younger student.

Riddle let out a sigh and went back to grading papers. He supposed if she was unwilling to turn to the Dark Arts, she would at least be a pleasant companion to keep around

#tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle #fanfic #professor tom riddle #professor riddle #harry potter #original character #student teacher #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #defense against the dark arts #occlumency #smut

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slytherinboysvip · 10 days ago

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hiiii, i love ur writing so much, u capture the slytherin boys perfectly chefs kiss 😘 and i was wondering if u could do 69 or ab/thigh riding with any of the boys?? heehee 🤭 if ur not comfortable with that that’s totally ok, js wanted to ask and see

thanks!!

Hide and seek- T.R

(tw: thigh riding, 69, ab riding, overstim, praise, slight degradation, prey+predator mindset)

first of all thank u smmm, annnd okay sooo how about both.. hehe >:)

you see, tom was a man who was into many things. some, usual, and some well.. deranged?

he wasn’t the type to immediately get into sexual relations upon getting together, but believe me once he’s there, there’s no going back. he watched over you constantly as if you were his prey, ready to be taken over by him, your main predator.

and when i say predator i mean it, once hes got you you’re his and there’s no getting out, he will literally eat you out the second he’s got you. he loves playing this special little game, one where you run, hide, and he seeks. now it seems easy, the castle is huge there’s no way he could catch you.

not to mention the fact that you two only play at night- prefect privileges.

you’re running, heart pounding against your chest at the thought that any given moment tom would snatch you up and you’d lose your game, though that’s what you really wanted. the adrenaline starts kicking in when you hear echoed footsteps from another hall, attempting to sprint away as quietly as possible failing miserably; hearing the footsteps getting louder and closer.

no thinking necessary you ran out of the castle and it was pitch black. peeking behind as you were running you caught a glimpse of tom chasing after you- this time you did think but only for a split second before running towards the forbidden forest not looking behind at all and rushing throughout different bushes and passing creatures.

finally stopping for a second to take a rest and catch your breath you slid down a tree and sat breathing heavily. you closed your eyes for a second and as you were getting up you heard a twig break. looking behind you there stood tom smirking. you had two options in this part of the game, surrender and have some mercy, or the fun option, run more and whatever happens.. happens.

obviously choosing the fun option you immediately ran for your life in the opposite direction of him and swerved around trees trying to offset him from your trail, to no avail you heard twigs breaking behind you after you’ve thought you’ve gotten away.

stopping for a moment you realized there were no more breaking twigs, or any noise at all for that matter. you looked around worried, there was not even the sound of a cricket. all you could hear was your breathing, until you felt warm sporadic breathing over your left shoulder. abruptly turning around you were stopped by strong arms. “caught you dove”

even though you knew it was tom, even though you knew he wouldn’t hurt you, your heart was practically beating through your chest. you could never imagine what he was going to do to you whenever you lost this specific game, even if you’ve never actually won.

“you know, running into the forest like that.. not very smart of you. i think someone might need a bit of a punishment”. his hand met your throat tightly wrapping around it, whispering a charm that brought you back to his dorm. “how the fuck” you breathed out suddenly dizzy. “watch your tone” he slapped your ass harshly pushing you on the bed.

“strip for me doll”, his voice was deep and seductive his words making you hypnotized doing exactly what you were told. removing your skirt slowly looking up at him with your fuck me eyes, followed by removing your shirt giving him a smile. “i have no problem ripping that shit off hurry up.” no hesitation you threw your underwear and bra across his room revealing yourself completely.

“mm you get hotter and sluttier everyday” he breathed out walking towards you unbuttoning his shirt. though your boyfriend didn’t look it, he was hiding a raging six pack underneath that white button down. absolutely toned to perfection you stared in awe, as you did everytime he took his shirt off. “can i touch” you looked up at him reaching for his stomach.

he smirked slapping your hand down “actually, you’re going to do something for me.” he laid on the bed and looked over at you, “you’re going to ride my abs, just like the slut you are doll” his smirk only growing wider at your visual embarrassment. “what’s wrong? i thought you loved them..” he chuckled mockingly in amusement.

your face was an indescribable color of crimson and you couldn’t even look him in the eyes as you straddled yourself over his stomach and brought yourself down onto his abs. “spit” he nodded towards your pussy not even looking back up at you, doing as you were told you spit down onto his abs lifting yourself slightly so it could roll down underneath you, lowering yourself back down.

his hands met your hips harshly and began grinding you back and forth onto his abs, to your surprise your clit was being perfectly stimulated dragging over his abs your wetness now mixing with the previous spit as low moans escape your mouth. “i knew you’d like this shit whore” he slapped your right breast causing a loud moan to leave your mouth “i need you tom” you cried out desperately for his dick.

“well dick is only for good girls who surrender for me, someone didn’t surrender.” he pushed you off of his stomach and shoved you on his thigh, “get yourself off for me, and maybe, just maybe i’ll let you have dick” his eyes darkened waiting for your next move, wanting any chance to fuck him you began moving your hips chasing your high just looking at him.

you desperately moved yourself back and forth leaving a slick spot of wetness on his school pants that he’d yet to remove. your eyes trailed up and down his body- scanning his abs admiring how shiny they look covered in your arousal. balancing yourself onto him your hand landed onto his raging boner. it felt like a complete fucking rock. and you absolutely needed it. just the thought of it alone made your immediately reach your high. moaning for him as he watched you carefully.

he reached his fingers down to your pussy sliding them under and pushing them inside the pleasure making you moan even more before he abruptly removed them taking them into his mouth “so delicious dove” he smirked. “i think overstimulation is the perfect punishment for your forbidden forest incident.” he pushed you off of him and onto the bed, getting off the bed and dragging your legs to the end. he bent down and his head dived into your pussy.

he shook his head back and fourth licking and twirling his tongue all over your clit you could feel another high coming and you didn’t want him to stop no matter how much the pleasure hurt. just when you were about to cum he shoved three fingers inside of you pumping them in and out at a harsh speed. you were unable to control your own reactions drool ready to spill from your mouth as you moaned like there was no tomorrow.

you tried to keep yourself from cumming, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of it. he sucked and twirled his tongue around your clit licking up and down all while fingering you expertly. he knew every spot that made you feel pleasure and had no problem finding new ones. everything finally took over and you couldn’t hold back.

even when you screamed “i’m cumming oh fuckkk”- he didn’t stop. tom curled his fingers up and began curling and un curling them all while pumping in and out of you, his long slender fingers hitting your g-spot perfectly. he suddenly stopped. removing all fingers and his face from your pussy. without any words he got back on the bed and smirked. “ever done six nine before, love” he winked dragging your ass to his face and immediately going back to eating your pussy.

through your moans and undeniable pleasure you tried your best to remove his throbbing boner from his pants, most of it springing out of his boxers you took what you could in your mouth and began bobbing your head. “fuckk” he took a break from your pussy leaning back and groaning lowly. you swirled your tongue around his tip multiple times before taking all of it and leaving it there for a second.

you were about to keep going when his mouth began to suck harshly on your swollen clit. your moan barley escaping over his dick in your mouth the vibration itself gave him pleasure, he continued abusing your clit, slapping your ass over and over before you bobbed your head more. you were a moaning mess gobbing on tom’s cock, spit was all over yours and tom’s body.

managing to get one arm to his dick you pumped the base of his shaft and sucked only the tip, attempting to give him a taste of his own medicine. you knew he wouldn’t last long if you did this. just then he began thrusting himself up into your throat fucking your face all while eating you out. at this point it wasn’t only a game of pleasure and overstimulation, but it was a game of you trying to breathe while he attempts to catch his own high.

his thrusts were harsh and your throat would surely be bruised by tomorrow but oh my god did it make you want to cum. and so you did, you came hard, loud, and well, you squirted all over his face. the noise that left your mouth was almost demonic-yet heavenly to him as the pleasure truly became too much. and with that you felt tom’s cum shooting down your throat making you gag at the harsh impact of his thick cum.

“good fucking girl.. fuck y/n” he sighed heavily pulling you off of him and bringing you on top of him, “i love this game” you sighed catching your breath.

this was so fun to write tbh not having to come up with my own ideas is great LMAO

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aethon-recs · 1 year ago

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Hi I wanted to know if you know any tomarry fanfics were Tom is the professor. I don't care if it's time travel or anything like that I just want to see some professor Tom because I can't find any.

Also your blog help me so much thank you for that!

Have a good day/night

Oohh, this is a fun one! Thanks for the ask!

I love the Professor Riddle trope. I might be biased, but I think Tom Riddle would have made for the best Defense professor that Harry could have had 😉

See below for some favorite Tomarrymort fics of this trope, arranged by alphabetical order:

Professor Riddle Fic Recs

Cam for the Money, Stayed for the Fun by @itsevanffs (E, 7k, complete)

Harry is a camboy. Professor Riddle is secretly his biggest patron.

Everything Green Is Gold by @cindle-writes (E, 24k, WIP)

Prior to Hogwarts, Harry had stayed mostly invisible to the teachers and adults around him his whole life. But Tom Riddle, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, looked at Harry like he was something to be wanted.

Fault Lines by @vestiges-of-light (M, 151k, complete)

After the world believes that Voldemort has died on that Halloween night, Tom Riddle returns to Hogwarts to claim the Defense post at last. Hogwarts will be a sanctuary, while he waits to find out more about Harry Potter and the prophecy that connects them. But when Grindelwald is broken out of prison, perhaps the magical world needs Voldemort to be publicly resurrected after all.

Fidgeting Anxiety Prevention by MistyTheGhost (E, 1k, complete)

Harry feels nothing but dread about his upcoming NEWTS. Luckily, Professor Riddle offers some assistance.

For Auld Lang Syne by @vdoshu (T, 8k, complete)

When he finds himself disarmed and held at wandpoint in the middle of a snowstorm, Tom’s first thought is that he is an embarrassment to Defence professors the world over. His second thought is something along the lines of, “Oh no, not again."

gratuity by @being-luminous (E, 2k, complete)

In the middle of class, Professor Riddle uses a spell to magically manifest his cock into Harry's arse.

hook, line, and sinker by @purplemineralwater (M, 6k, WIP)

Harry asks Professor Riddle for help in killing Voldemort. Riddle is endlessly amused.

Muggle Studies is Economics in Disguise by May_May_0_0 (M, 12k, complete)

Dumbledore acquiesces when Tom Riddle asks for the defense post. Harry stumbles into this AU version of Hogwarts hoping to teach defense. But there is only teaching one spot available: Muggle Studies. Chaos ensues as Muggle Studies becomes everyone’s favorite class. Tom Riddle is enraged, concerned, and… turned on?

Professor by Day, Vigilante by Night by @duplicitywrites (T, 73k, complete)

Harry and Tom have been together since their fifth-year, proving once and for all that Slytherins and Gryffindors can actually get along. Fifteen years later, they are both professors at Hogwarts and more in love than ever. Harry plays Quidditch with the Weasleys on the weekends, and Tom is secretly a vigilante named Voldemort.

On Holiday by @neurowriter14 (E, 2k, complete)

Harry's thirsty over his DADA professor. Professor Riddle knows.

The Orphaned King by @silenceinwinter2019 (E, 134k, complete)

In an AU where Voldemort wins, Harry starts his seventh year. Two things told Harry it would be an interesting semester: first, the Dark Lord would visit Hogwarts; second, they had a new defense professor, who made Harry’s stomach squirm and called himself Marvolo Gaunt.

What Happens in Vegas by @dividawrites (E, 14k, complete)

Turns out, the role of the Slytherin Head of House is not just ruling over pre-teen idiots and deducting points from Gryffindors. Now Tom has to accompany the seventh-year students on their school trip to Las Vegas. It goes even worse than he could have imagined.

#tomarrymort #tomarry #harrymort #aethon recs #tomarry recs #tomarrymort recs #harrymort recs #hp fic recs #ao3 recs #fanfic recs #professor riddle #professor tom riddle

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slytherinboysappreciation · 7 months ago

Text

Bullied - Prof. T. R. x platonic gn!Reader

A/N: this was originally written for this request, but I realized it was too angsty so I made it its own thing. Please read the warnings carefully! They’re there for a reason! This fic is completely unedited with no use of Y/N. Please be nice, I’m an inexperienced writer 💛 Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated!!

CW: Bullying!!; descriptions of bullying; crying; shame; graphic descriptions of violence/injury!!; anxiety; mentions of the quills Umbridge used; detention; mentions of eating; Prof. Riddle becomes a safe space for reader; swearing; derogatory language towards reader; graphic descriptions of violence against reader!!!!; nausea; head wounds; vague mentions of blood; Dumbledore bashing; hurt/comfort, I guess; slightly fluffy ending?

I think that’s everything. Please please let me know if I’ve missed anything! If you don’t like it, don’t read it!!

2019 words

You were hiding in a corner of the library, silently crying. The library was your safe space; the only place in the whole school aside from your dorm where you didn’t have to worry about getting bullied.

And it had been invaded. Your bullies had come in today, destroying your peace with the very sight of them. Even worse, they’d ripped your books and blamed it on you.

Madame Pince had been thankfully skeptical, but the three of you still got detention. You were terrified of being in the same room alone for hours with those two.

As you sniffle and wipe your eyes, the sound of footsteps approaches your spot. You huddle up into a ball, hastily wiping your face in an attempt to hide that you were crying.

“You should be in bed.”

You look up, startled. It’s Professor Riddle, looking down at you with an unreadable expression.

“I— I was—“ You falter, unsure what to say. Telling the truth hadn’t worked with your head of house. There’s no way you’d expose your deepest shame to someone as imposing as Professor Riddle.

“Yes, sir,” you say meekly, slowly picking yourself up.

He watches you, hands tucked into his pockets. “Everything all right?”

Your eyes start to itch from crying so much. You rub at them before catching yourself. “Yes, sir. Just…”

He holds up a hand and pulls something out of his pocket. A handkerchief. “Next time, come to me.”

You take the handkerchief slowly. Next time… Was he saying… You couldn’t risk it.

“Yes, sir,” you mumble, starting to back away. He stops you with a hand on your shoulder.

“I mean it. Bullying has no place here at Hogwarts.”

You stare down at the floor, frail hope fluttering in your chest. You squash it with both hands.

“Thanks, Professor,” you say quietly. “But I’ve heard that before.”

With that, you shrug off his hand and walk away, clutching his handkerchief like a lifeline.

Your detention comes late the next night. You’re fully prepared for the usual horrors. Being forced to clean suits of armor by yourself until your fingers crack and bleed from the chemicals. Scrubbing floors till your knees are bruised and you can’t feel your arms.

Being a guinea pig for whatever malicious spell the two bullies of yours have cooked up.

Instead, you receive a different set of instructions. Your two bullies will be cleaning floors and suits of armor.

You will be writing lines with Professor Riddle.

You stare blankly at your head of house, baffled by the news. Writing lines? That’s a first year punishment, the easiest detention ever.

You show up outside Riddle’s office at exactly the time you’re supposed to. Without punishment or curses from your bullies, it’s easy to be on time.

You knock on the door, nervousness drumming through you. Why had he taken your detention? What was his plan with this? Was it some sort of worse punishment?

You’d heard about the cutting quills from Professor Umbridge’s reign of terror. Would this be something similar?

The door swings open, startling you so badly you jump. Professor Riddle raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment on your action.

“Come in. I have everything set up.”

You slowly follow him in, your nerves building with every step. He’s supposed to be the strictest teacher. The hardest on his students and the one urging them the most to reach their ambitions.

You sit at the desk he’s provided you, looking over the paper and quill in front of you. They look… just like a normal quill and paper.

“They’re perfectly safe. I’ve used that quill before.” Riddle watches you from his desk, that same inscrutable expression on his face:

You startle. Then flush with embarrassment. “Sorry, sir. I’ve just had… bad experiences before.”

He nods. “Here.”

You watch in disbelief as he picks up his own quill and ink pot and brings them over to you. Then he takes yours and moves them over to his desk.

“Is that better?”

You just stare at him for a moment. Then your sense comes back to you and you nod. “Y-Yes, sir.”

“Please start with your lines. I’ve written the first one out for you. You will fill the front and back of the page.”

“Yes, sir.”

You lower your head and pick up the quill he’d given you. You don’t know what you did to receive such light detention, but you’re not complaining. It’s infinitely better than what you’d be doing otherwise.

You grimace at the thought and lower the tip of the quill to the page. With a deep breath, you start writing.

Over the next week, you start to warm to Professor Riddle. It takes two whole days to stop being so jumpy around him, and two more days before you slowly start to believe his words.

Mainly because he will not stop asking you about your bullies. About who they are. What they do. It would be annoying if it wasn’t so gratifying that someone finally seems to care.

You don’t really answer him, of course. You have enough self-preservation to know that much, but you do start to reveal smaller details.

Like how you’re always late to class because of them. Or how they bother you when you try to study. Or even how you’re afraid to eat meals outside of your dorm because of them.

Which is the reason you’re currently outside his office door again. You knock hesitantly, balancing your plate of food with one hand.

He opens the door and you walk in, sitting at the now familiar desk. You set down your plate and get comfortable.

“Thank you, sir,” you say quietly, picking up your fork.

“Of course.” Riddle nods and sits at his desk to eat his own lunch.

It’s strange; eating in peace for once. You don’t have to worry about slaps to the head or food being spilled on you or some new embarrassing secret being shared. You just eat your food.

It’s hard to admit, but Professor Riddle is starting to grow on you. He doesn’t make you talk; doesn’t force you to do things you don’t like. He just sits with that unreadable expression of his and lets you do the same.

You take your time eating your food, allowing yourself to savor the flavors. It’s a nice change of pace. One you could find yourself getting used to.

Once you’re done eating, you get up. “Thank you, sir.”

“Of course,” Professor Riddle says, glancing up from his own plate. “Enjoy the rest of your classes.”

“I will.” You give him a slight smile and leave his office.

Maybe things will actually be better after this.

You’re slammed against the wall. Hands grind your face against the stone, pinning you in place.

“You fucker!” It’s your bullies, clearly enraged. “You think you can tell on us and get away with it?!”

You panic, fear shooting through you.

“We almost got expelled because of you, you piece of shit!”

Your head is pulled back so you can see their angry faces.

“I didn’t say anything!“ you beg, starting to shake with panic and terror.

“Shut up! I swear to god, you dumb little—“

Your head is bashed against the wall. Your hearing cuts out, replaced by the loudest ringing you’ve ever heard. Your vision goes blurry. Something drips down your face, stinging your eyes.

Then, the hands are pulled off you. You’re vaguely aware of yelling as your legs give out and you crumple against the wall.

Your head throbs, pain shooting through your forehead as you lean your head against the wall. When you pull back to try and focus on it, red stains the stone.

Someone crouches down in front of you. A gentle hand tilts up your chin. You struggle to focus on the face, but your vision won’t cooperate.

The person says something, but you just blink. You can’t hear what they’re saying over the ringing in your ears.

Hands scoop you up, cradling you in strong arms. Nausea rises in your throat at the sudden motion.

The last thing you remember is throwing up.

You wake up in the Hospital Wing. You don’t remember much; just a bustling Madame Pomfrey and a warm, firm hand gently rubbing your back as you cry. The rest is a haze. It makes your head hurt to try and remember so you just give up.

After Madame Pomfrey pronounces you to be fine, you’re swept up to the Headmaster’s office. You sit nervously in a chair, fiddling with your fingers.

Headmaster Dumbledore’s normally kind expression has been replaced with a serious look.

“Hello,” he greets you solemnly. “I’m glad to hear you’re doing better.”

Something about the way he says it makes you doubt he means it. You say nothing in return.

Your Head of House bustles around behind you, muttering something under their breath. You look down at your hands and wish you were back in the Hospital Wing.

“Do you know why you’re here?” Dumbledore asks.

You shrug a little and don’t look up. “No.”

“We take bullying very seriously here at Hogwarts.”

You snort, then wince as your head aches from the action.

Dumbledore’s lips thin, and his look sharpens. “We understand you have been through some… issues with a few of our students.”

You bite your tongue to keep from saying anything rash.

“We’ve contacted your parents about the situation,” your Head of House adds. “But they haven’t replied yet.”

Your stomach churns. You’re well aware of that. Your parents have taken a hands off approach to your schooling since you started being bullied. You doubt they’ve even read the letter from the school.

“Unfortunately,” Dumbledore continues, “without the permission of a trusted adult, we cannot do much about the issue. The offending students will be given detention and strict warnings.”

“What?” Your eyes start to sting. “You’re just— You’re not going to do anything?”

Dumbledore raises his hands in a helpless gesture. “Without permission from a trusted adult—“

You can feel the tears building behind your eyes. “No! There has to be something you can do! I can’t— What if this happens again?!”

Dumbledore opens his mouth to say something when the door to his office flies open. Professor Riddle stands in the doorway, glaring at the Headmaster.

“A letter for you.” He says calmly. He approaches Dumbledore and hands him a letter. “I think you’ll find it contains everything you’ll require for the students’ expulsions.”

Dumbledore’s expression changes instantly. “Of course, Tom,” he says coolly, “I appreciate your care and concern for our students.”

Professor Riddle doesn’t even try to hide his sneer. “Someone has to do it.”

He gestures to you. “Come on.” It’s not a request. It’s an order.

You obey, getting to your feet and meekly following him out. As soon as you get down to the hallway, Professor Riddle turns to you.

“I’m sorry about that. You should be resting, not dealing with old fools.”

You blink up at him. “How did you…?”

“I owled your parents.”

He doesn’t elaborate and you decide you don’t want to know.

“Thank you, sir.”

He rests a hand on your shoulder and gives it a comforting rub. “Of course. Your bullies will be expelled by tomorrow morning, and you won’t ever have to deal with them again.”

Tears well up in your eyes. He truly means it. You won’t have to worry about getting to class, or about not studying, or anything like that again.

You throw your arms around him, hugging him tightly. “Oh, thank you, sir!”

He pats your back, lightly returning your hug. “You’re welcome. Now, go get some rest. I don’t want to see you out and about till morning.”

“Yes, sir!” You head off to your dorm, practically giddy with excitement.

You’re finally free from your bullies. You’ll be able to make friends again now. You can get good grades again. Live without fear for your wellbeing.

You don’t think you’ve ever been so happy in your life. And it’s all thanks to Professor Riddle.

#tom riddle #professor tom riddle #platonic reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #divider by cafekitsune #reader is from an unspecified hogwarts house #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #professor tom riddle x reader #professor tom riddle x you #tw bullying #tw violence

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