Enigma [A Tom Riddle x Reader fan fiction]

FIRST-PERSON POV (Y/N’s POV)

“It’s been four days and I still cannot get my mind off it!” I whisper-shouted, stabbing my toast like it had personally offended me.

Since the moment with Malfoy, I couldn’t get the fluttering in my chest out of my mind. Over the past four days, there were times when his hand would find mine as we ate, his thumb lightly tracing circles on the back of my hand. His touch was cold and warm at the same time, but strangely, it felt just right. His hands were larger than mine, enveloping mine with a sense of ease, as if they were made to fit each other.

“Oh, Y/N, just tell him already,” Mari urged, with Cassius nodding in agreement, his mouth stuffed with waffles.

“I’m too scared, Mari. I don’t even know where to start,” I admitted.

Before another word could be spoken, Abraxas slid into his usual seat next to me. He pressed a quick peck on my forehead, then settled in.

He flashed a smile as he said, “Good morning, lovely.”

My heart gave a tiny, involuntary jolt at the word—lovely. He said it so easily, like it belonged to me.

“Morning,” I replied, keeping my tone stead. Or, at least, I tried to.

Across the table, Cassius raised a brow, clearly amused. Mari didn’t even try to hide her smirk, as she wiggled her eyebrows at me.

I felt too embarrassed to look at Abraxas, I resulted to fiddling with my fingers instead, trying to distract myself from the awkward situation I was in and to avoid looking and them.

Abraxas glanced at them, as if signalling them to stop, then lead slightly closer to me. “You look tired,” he said, softer this time, so only I was able to hear. “Did you sleep last night?”

“I couldn’t fall asleep,” I replied. I didn’t mention that my mind was anxiously thinking about him—the things he says, his new habits when he’s around me, the way he looked at me like I was something rare. I didn’t even know what this was. Whatever it was, I was terrified it’d stop.

He hummed in response, grabbed my hands in his and rubbed them, just like he always did. It was subtle, but I could feel tension rising between us, something unspoken neither of us was willing to say.

Mari’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. “Y/N, you have Runes first today, right? With Riddle?”

I nodded, pretending I hadn’t taken notice of Abraxas suddenly stiffening beside me at the mention of his name.

After breakfast, I parted ways with Mari and Cassius, and Abraxas walked with me as far as the corridor that split off toward the North Tower.

“I’ll see you later?” he asked, fingers brushing against mine.

I gave a small nod. “Yeah, later.”

He didn’t immediately let go, he let his fingers linger just a little more, before finally releasing.

The classroom was quiet when I arrived, Tom already seated at our usual spot near the window, neat parchment and ink arranged like always. He looked up, gave the faintest nod of acknowledgment, then returned to his notes.

I slid into the seat beside him and started pulling out my things, in the process, my inkwell accidentally slipped from my fingers and rolled under the table.

“Good morning,” I greeted, trying to mask the tiredness in my voice.

He glanced at me briefly before replying. “You’re five minutes early. That’s unlike you.”

“I figured I’d try something new.” I smirked, resting my chin in my hand. “Change is thrilling, don’t you think?”

Tom didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he turned his head slightly and gave me an unamused blink. A beat passed.

“That jokes was terrible,” he said flatly.

I burst out laughing. “Well, not everyone appreciates true wit.”

Tom exhaled through his nose, the closest thing to a laugh I’d ever get from him. Still, the corner of his mouth twitched.

Progress.

When class began, we fell into an easy rhythm. He’d correct my notes with a flick of his quill, explain things without sounding condescending, and lean just close enough that only I could hear him clearly over the rest of the room—but never too close.

At one point, I accidentally dropped my ink bottle under the table. Before I could reach for it, Tom had already moved his wand, retrieving gracefully.

“Careful,” he said, placing it back beside me without looking. “That would have ruined both our essays.”

I muttered a thanks, slightly flustered—not from the ink incident, but from how effortlessly he moved around me, how he isn’t hard or as controlling, he’s gentle and how he always seemed to notice everything.

THIRD-PERSON POV

Y/N didn’t notice the way Abraxas Malfoy watched her from the back of the classroom.

His quill hadn’t moved in minutes. His textbook remained untouched, open only for show. His gaze, however, was fixed. Burning holes through the space between Tom Riddle and Y/N, who sat side by side near the window.

She was laughing, again. Softly, but it was enough. Enough for a burn to crawl beneath his skin.

Tom leaned slightly toward her, murmuring something, and she responded with a half-smile, the kind Abraxas had only seen her give a few time—although, never to him. (A/N: To Malfoy is what I mean).

His jaw tightened.

Y/N didn’t seem to realize how different she looked when she was around Riddle. More relaxed. More at ease. It was infuriating.

By the time class ended, Abraxas barely waited for the other to file out before cutting across the room.

“Are you like this with every guy you sit next to?” he snapped, sharp. His words slicing through the air before she could even register the reason he’s there.

Y/N froze, halfway through packing her things. “What?”

“You heard me,” he bit out sternly. “Is this how you are? Laughing, leaning in, acting like it’s nothing? Do you do this with every boy you talk to, or is there something special in Riddle?”

Her throat went dry. Her fingers curled tightly around the edge of her bag. “Malfoy—”

“I’m asking a question,” he interrupted. “Because from where I was sitting, you seemed quite comfortable with him. Like you weren’t just head over heels for me.”

That hit harder than she expected.

She shut her eyes for a moment before standing, forcing herself to meet his glare.

“Malfoy,” she said, quieter now, steadier. “I don’t think you know, do you?”

He looked startled for a second, brows furrowed, as if he hadn’t expected her to actually say anything.

She slung her bag over her shoulder and stepped past him, ready to walk away. Her heart pounding—but his hand caught her wrist before she made it too far.

Not enough, but firm enough to stop her. “What do you mean by that?”

Y/N hesitated. She didn’t want to do this—not here, not like this—but the ache in her chest had been building for days.

“I liked you,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “That’s why I acted like that with Riddle. Because it meant nothing, he’s simply just a friend. Because I was trying not to think too hard about you.”

His grip loosened slightly, he now looked at her with concern.

“I’ve had people leave before,” she added, her voice cracking just a little. “Friends, family—people who said they cared. So I get scared. I try not to want something too much because I’m terrified it’ll vanish the second I start to believe it’s real.”

Abraxas didn’t speak. Not at first.
She blinked quickly, trying to stop the tear that threatened to escape. “So if you think I’d just flirt around with just about anyone, then you really don’t know me at all.”

For a moment, she thought he’d just let her go.

But then he pulled her towards him, arms wrapping around her tightly. His jaw was clenched, exhaling hard against her.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, over and over again. “I didn’t know—I didn’t mean it like that. I just—Merlin, Y/N, I can’t stand watching you smile at him like that.”

She didn’t respond. But she let herself sink into him, trembling slightly.

After a moment, he cupped her face in his hands, eyes searching hers with raw desperation. “I like you. Properly. Not because I’m supposed to or because it’s convenient. I like you. And I’m sorry for being a complete arse.”

He kissed her forehead gently—slower this time—and wiped the corner of her eye with his thumb.

“Be mine,” he said quietly. “Please.”

From down the corridor, just as the last students walked out, Tom Riddle stood motionless near the archway of the stone staircase, partially shadowed by the torchlight flickering above him.

He hadn’t meant to linger—he never did without a reason. But something had made him slow his steps that day. Maybe it was the sound of voices echoing behind, or maybe it was her laugh earlier in class that had stayed with him longer than it should’ve.

And now, there she was.

Y/N stood just outside the Runes classroom, her face tilted slightly down, her wrist still loosely held by Malfoy. Her shoulders were tense, she was trembling. Tom didn’t have to hear her words to know what they were laced with. Hurt.

She was crying.

Tom’s fingers curled tighter around the spine of the book he carried. He wasn’t close enough to hear what Malfoy said, but he didn’t need to. The picture was clear.

Malfoy was too close.

He could walk away. He should walk away.

He’s seen people cry before. He’s made people cry before. And he’s never batted an eye. It’s weakness, ordinary, human weakness. And she wasn’t supposed to be different. She was just another student. Just another girl.

Not clever enough to keep up with him, but clever enough to stand taller than everyone else but him. Not special. Not important.

She laughed too loud, stumbled over her word when she got excited, and made the most terrible jokes. She wasn’t cunning or careful like he was. She didn’t think three steps ahead, she just…reacted. Emotionally. Foolishly.

So why did it bother him?

Why did the sight of her crying make something cold twist in his chest?

It’s none of my concern, he told himself flatly. I don’t care.

It’s just Y/N.

He repeated that thought like a spell, like if he said it enough, it would be true.

Just Y/N.

The girl who always had ink on her fingertips, who didn’t flinch when he corrected her work, who laughed at her own terrible jokes like she wasn’t trying to impress anyone but her own humour. Who didn’t seem to fear him, not at all. Who made everything feel…quieter, when she was nearby.

Tom’s grip tightened.

He watched silently as Abraxas wiped a tear from her cheek and puller her into a tight embrace. Watched as she didn’t pull away.

Something about the way Malfoy held her, it didn’t seem to Riddle as concern. It looked possessive.

Tom turned away.

He wouldn’t interfere. He didn’t care. After all, he had more important things to focus on, things far greater than some girl tangled up in Malfoy’s arms.

‘Let her cry. Let her fall for someone who wouldn’t last. It didn’t matter. She didn’t matter.’ he thought.

And yet, for the first time, he walked slower on his way back to the dungeons—as if something heavy was pulling him back.

Final Word Count: 1929 words