My Name is Tom Riddle
The diary. Usually, I would never grab something that looked so ancient, but this… it seemed to call to me. It seemed to ask me to pick it up, screaming my name. And when I did, it claimed me. Like a drug, I could not stop writing in it. It felt like a breath of air, having someone responding to me whenever I ranted or complained about stupid professors.
Hello, Y/N L/N. My name is Tom Riddle.
Tom Riddle. He was supposedly the one who wrote back, his flowy handwriting always scribbling back the right words.
Tom, Professor Snape picked on me during class today. Again.
Snape is an idiot. Don’t let him get to you, Y/N. You’re smarter than that.
Nothing had ever gone wrong.
Y/N, what happened to the Chamber of Secrets after it was opened during your second year?
I'm not sure. Ginny Weasley left the school for a few months but nothing else. Potter for once chose not to get involved.
Hm. Would you like to see how I was involved with the Chamber during my years here?
Sure.
And so he had shown me. He had let me see every beautiful inch of him, leaving me craving him. To touch him in reality, to bless my eyes with his features. But I knew that I could not meet him. He was just a memory, and I had to live in reality.
And so I trusted him. After all, what ever went wrong with talking to strangers? Well you could get kidnapped. Like I did.
When I opened my eyes I had no idea where I was. Darkness enveloped me like a cloak, the damp air sticking to me. The stench of copper and the sound of running water made me assume that I was underground, in a chamber of some sort.
“Y/N…” I turned abruptly. I recognized the sound. Harry Potter. The attention seeker of my year. For six years I'd had to deal with his impulsive decisions, not knowing when one of them could end up killing me. I've never really liked him, but he sounded different. He sounded weak, fragile. “Run…”
A scream filled the air.
As my eyes began to adjust to the darkness, I scanned my surroundings. There, Harry lay with his eyes closed. There was a fang stuck in his chest, blood still oozing out. My fingers felt no pulse. My eyes then wandered to the figure next to him. I recognized the redhead. A gasp caught in my throat as I took in Ginny Weasley, my best friend. She was the one who had given me the diary so many years ago, warning me to keep it safe.
“It won’t do you any good to try to save them.” A soft voice filled the silence. My head snapped towards the source and my eyes met that of a young student of Hogwarts. Slytherin robes, brown hair, and a pair of beautiful brown eyes.
“Who… who are you?” I knew very much who he was. But could I dare believe? The shock was starting to set in as I stared at my blood-stained hands.
Harry’s blood.
The Chosen One.
He was dead.
He had gotten my best friend killed in the process.
The figure reached me in a few strides, crouching down to look me in the eye. His hand was cold and calloused against the back of my neck. "How offensive." His lips crashed into mine before I could react. His teeth clashed with mine as I struggled against him. Finally, he pulled away. "You can't even recognize your penpal."
I shook my head, but Tom did not stop there. He never knew where to stop. His eyes devoured me, taking in every inch of me. Though I was in my robes, I might as well have been naked before him. He stripped me with his eyes as his lips made their way down to my neck, his teeth grazing.
"Tom."
"Do you know how many nights I have dreamt of your skin under my teeth?" He bit down gently and I couldn't help but whimper. "Craved to feel your heat under my hands?" He sucked on my neck in ways that I knew would leave marks. I did not want this. I could not want this; he had murdered my classmates. My best friend.
"Tom." It was a plead. A plead to stop.
"I know you want me too, Y/N. I could tell from the way you wrote to me. With such longing-"
"TOM." Finally, he pulled away, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he looked at me. "Stop." I pushed him away.
"Y/N-"
"Tom, you killed my friend. My classmates, you killed them." The ghost of a smile appeared on his face. "Let me go," I growled.
His smile faded as he got up, circling me. Stalking me like a predator would its prey. "I don't think I will, darling. You know why?" My throat went dry as I shook my head. "Because you're mine."
"Tom, I can't be with you. It's wrong." His footsteps stopped abruptly.
Silence filled the chamber for moments that felt like an eternity. "What a shame," he drawled finally. I turned to face him. His wand was already drawn, pointing at my chest. Straight at my chest. A smirk was plastered onto his face. "I didn't want to kill you... but it seems you leave me with no choice."
My hands quivered as I reached for my wand. I knew I couldn't do anything against him, but I could at least deal a bit of damage. Anything would be fine, but as my hands searched every pocket, each was empty. He had taken my wand.
"I apologize, Y/N." His voice carried no sympathy. Neither did his expression.
His face became blurry as my eyes began to water. "Tom, please. You know better." My voice shook, cracking at his name.
There was a flicker of a foreign emotion in Tom's eyes. "Crucio."
Pain unlike any other hit me all at once. The force of every torment possible stabbed at my flesh, forcing screams from my throat. My chest tightened as tears flowed from my eyes. I had experienced pain in my life. I had even endured torture before, but nothing had hurt as badly as this. Torture on top of betrayal. Death. In stung like salt in the wound. I had learned of the unforgivable curses in my fourth year, but I had never expected to feel any of them. Even if I were to experience one, I would not have guessed the cruciatus. A cruel way of torture that only the sickest witches and wizards resorted to. Was Tom one of those wizards? I barely knew him, so maybe I shouldn't have been surprised.
But suddenly, it was all gone. Air rushed into my lungs as I coughed, my head banging.
Tom stood a few feet away, looking away from me. His face was hidden from my view. "How is it, Y/N," he whispered, his voice carrying a trace of an emotion that I had never seen him exhibit. I could not figure out which, "that it pains me to see you suffering."
I could not bring myself to speak. I could not even lift my head off of the cold floor on which I lay. I closed my eyes, shutting them tightly. Maybe, if I closed them for long enough, wished hard enough, I would wake up in my dorm. Maybe I had fallen asleep while talking to Tom and had a nightmare. Maybe I would wake up at any time and find that I'm late for class. Another nightmare in itself, but anything would be better than this.
Tom's hand on my head was what brought me back to reality. "You're wrong, Y/N," he said softly. His face was covered in shadows, but I could have sworn that there was a hint of remorse in his eyes. "I do not know better. I know only how to torture, kill, and smile about it. But you." His hand cupped my cheek as my tears stopped flowing and I looked at him. His eyes were soft, sympathetic, maybe. "You make me want to be better, Y/N," he whispered. He pressed a gentle kiss to my head.
I had lost consciousness, but when I awoke, I was in Tom's arms. He was carrying me bridal style through the corridors of Hogwarts. Owls hooted as the night surrounded us, and I relaxed under his touch. My body felt like jello, like it would melt the moment he let me go. So when he turned to leave after he had set me down on my bed, I stopped him. "Wait."
He turned to me, the usual mask of cold softening as his eyes locked onto mine. "What is it, darling?" I approached him slowly, watching as he tracked each step I took towards him. Finally, I wrapped my arms around his torso, burying my face into his chest. He froze under my touch, but after a few moments he softened. Though he did not wrap his own arms around me, his hand rested at the back of my head. He placed his chin on my head and pressed a kiss against it. He pulled away soon after, brushing a strand of hair out of my face.
"Write to me, Y/N." He jerked his chin towards where the diary lay on my bedside table. I just nodded.
After he left, I wondered if I had imagined it all. Tom Riddle was supposed to be a memory after all, preserved in the diary. There was not supposed to be a way to see him in person. But then again, how did it make sense that I was writing back and forth with him? Everything about him was a mystery, and I knew from the corpses rotting in the Chamber of Secrets that he was dangerous. But it did nothing but draw me closer. Call me deeper.
The smell of his cologne was still strong, causing me to not want to wash it off. My skin felt warmest where his hands had been, and the marks on my neck were evidence of the events that had went down. Nothing about him was safe. I knew nothing about him, and yet I wanted more. I missed him already.
By the time I picked up my quill, hours had already gone by. Though I wondered if Tom was asleep, I still scribbled a sentence into a page.
Hello. My name is Y/N L/N.
The ink disappeared almost immediately.
Hello, Y/N L/N. My name is Tom Riddle.