The Boy Who Changed

Tom. 

I stared at the ink as it lay on the page. I watched as it dried, but did not disappear. I missed the days he would write back immediately, letting me go on about anything. I missed the days when he wasn't as busy. When he had time for me. 

Annoyed, I just closed the diary. He's not worth my time, I told myself. None of them were. Not the pricks that kept on leaving the stupid notes in my bags, or the professors that did nothing about them. None of them were worth it. 

I found myself checking the diary every few minutes only to get mad at myself. I should not be so obsessed with a murderer. A sadist, and yet he showed some sort of interest in me. I let out a sigh of frustration as I retreated to my bed, refusing to be let down further. 

They haunted me in my dreams. The damn faces of Harry and Ginny, eyes empty of life. Now that Ginny was gone, no one was there to keep them away. The death threats were getting worse, anonymous notes filling my bag claiming terrifying things. I knew who they were from, but could not bring myself to blame him. After all, his boyfriend was dead, and I was the one to report the death. Though I had been let off due to no proof that it was a crime that I had committed, Malfoy had every right to suspect me. Perhaps it was my fault that Harry was dead. If I had gotten there sooner, Harry, Ginny. They may both still be alive. 

I jerked awake covered in sweat. I gasped for air, reaching for the bottle of water on my bedside table to wash down the feeling of dread rising in my stomach. I reached for the diary next, hesitating before opening it. His name was still scribbled on the page. I resisted the urge to burn it right then and there. 

I was not sure what Tom was doing, or if he could even act in present time. Then again, he had committed murder. Who was to say he couldn't commit worse? Either way, it seemed that he had run out of time for me. I missed having him around though he would make fun of me half of the time. It was still nice to know that someone was willing to talk to me. Now, only the looming feeling of death embraced me. 

---

As the day went on, I continuously checked the diary. He really could not find the time to talk to me anymore. While I half listened to Professor Snape drone on and on about werewolves and whatever other nonsense, I wrote in the diary. I journaled as one would in a normal diary. 

Riddle, are you so busy that you cannot spend a single minute with me? I am constantly left waiting for you and constantly disappointed. I deal with all of my problems alone now. I need your stupid solutions and snarky comments. I want to talk to you about something but you never have the time fo

I jolted as a hand slammed down onto the page. My eyes met that of Malfoy's. I must've not realized that class had ended. "Journaling, are you L/N? Let's see then, shall we?" 

"Malfoy get your filthy hands off-"

"Riddle, -- who is Riddle -- are you so busy that you cannot spend a single minute--" I snatched the diary out of his hands, my face heating. "You got yourself a boyfriend, L/N?"  

"Shove off, Malfoy." I watched as his face darkened. 

"Must be nice. Having a boyfriend." The students around us fell silent. "Mine happens to be dead because of you, mudblood. I don't think you should get to have one while mine is six feet under because of you." His voice broke and my heart fell. 

"For the last time, I had nothing to do with Harry." I paused, "And Riddle is not my boyfriend." I quickly gathered my stuff before racing out of the class, but not before hearing Malfoy mumbling something.

I stumbled into my dorm as I threw my bag onto the ground. I collapsed onto bed, just staring at the ceiling. I felt bad for him, but there was nothing that I could do. What was done was done. He was already dead, and there was nothing that could reverse that. Or perhaps I could have done something. Perhaps it had not been too late and Tom could've saved him if I had just asked. 

I thought about a few months ago. When Malfoy had caught Harry when he had fallen off of his broom. The way they looked at each other. A few days later they announced their relationship. A month later they held hands publicly and snogged without bothering to hide it. They had often rushed into the Great Hall flushed and panting. One time they had accidentally swapped ties and Snape had scolded them, but I swear I saw him smirk afterwards. I smiled at the thought of them. They had been so happy. They had made each other genuinely delighted. 

And now it was all gone. Malfoy mourned for Harry, who lay beside his parents with a basilisk fang still impaling him through the chest. Malfoy insisted that they should not pull it out, as he claimed it would truly kill him if it exited him. Anyone could tell how much pain he was in from how he dressed. He only wore black now, a constant reminder of what had happened. 

I pushed away the feeling of guilt as I trudged over to where my bag lay. Pulling out a hoodie, I stripped my robe and instead pulled the hoodie over my head. I then opened the diary to finally see a response. 

Well, stop stalling. What is it. 

Promise not to freak out.

The ink disappeared only a few minutes later. 

I don't make promises.

Fine. I've been getting... anonymous letters. 

Do I need to remind someone that you are mine?

No, you idiot, they're not love letters. 

A pause. 

Then? 

They're... threats. 

Though the ink disappeared, his response did not come for a while. 

Are you alright? 

I'm fine. Just wanted to talk to you about it. Thanks for your time.

Y/N. 

Anger caught me off guard. I was angry that he was suddenly so invested after discovering that he might lose me. He would not appreciate me unless I was dead or being threatened. Something was seriously wrong with him. He made me feel so worthless and pointless, and yet he made me feel like I was in euphoria when he actually tried. I went back to the diary to find he had written a few more lines. 

I knew you were looking a little off. I'll be at your dorm in five, wait for me there.

I hadn't seen him since the Chamber of Secrets. I had no idea how he knew what I looked like. All I knew was that I looked like a mess and he was on his way to my dorm. Somehow. I still did not know how the whole memory thing worked. 

Before I could get up to change into something a bit more suitable, there was a knock on the door. I paused a few feet away from the door. Tom Riddle was on the other side. As much as I ached to see him again, I did not know if I should open the door. He had not been there when I needed him. So why should I let him see me now? 

The door was open before I could think of a good reason. I suppose I don't know why I expected Tom to pull me into his arms, kiss me, or say something genuine. I don't know why I expected to see his face soft with compassion, maybe a smile on his face. Because there was none of that. He looked stoic, glancing over at me before slipping past me and into my dorm. He placed a bag that he had brought on my table and stood with his hands in his pockets.

"You show up after basically ignoring me for weeks. Now you don't even speak." I shut the door and turned back to him. 

His eyes were now filled with worry, scanning over me. He reached me in a few long strides and he grasped my shoulders. He tucked me into his arms. His warmth surrounded me as I relaxed into his body, the scent of spices and pine overcoming me as I let out a content sigh.

"Tell me you're safe." His voice was hoarse. "Tell me that you're alright." 

"I'm fine, Tom," I whispered. He nodded, only gripping me tighter. 

After a while he lifted me into his arms, my arms wrapping around his neck as he carried me over to the couch where he sat down. I sat on his lap, watching as he scanned every inch of my bare skin. His eyebrows furrowed together in concentration. He then jerked his head towards the bag. 

"I brought you some food. I didn't know if you would be craving chicken or sushi, so I got you both." He spoke as if he did not have a care in the world. As if he did not remember what I had told him I wanted to eat a few days ago. Maybe the short conversations that we had did mean something to him. Maybe he really was trying for me. 

Though I had not had an appetite in days, I still opened the bag and took out the sushi. I broke the chopsticks and began to eat, knowing he would only be more concerned if I did not eat. I rolled off of him and sat beside him instead. 

"You came," I said, slight surprise evident in my voice. 

He paused, looking at me. "You called." He pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. "I know I've been distant, darling. But I will not sit back as some bastard threatens you. I will find out who is doing this, and I promise you. They will pay." 

I nodded. I didn't think it was the right time to tell him that it was Malfoy. I did not want Malfoy dead, though I hated him with a passion. He had every right to be upset about the death of Harry. Perhaps threatening me was overstepping, but I could understand. 

As the night went on, Tom made no effort to push me to tell him more about these letters. Instead, he just reassured me, holding me in his arms until I fell asleep. Though he was meant to be a memory, he felt so real. I could almost hear his heartbeat, maybe a bit better than I could last time. He stroked my hair as I fell asleep, humming tunes I did not recognize. And when I woke, he was there every time. For the first time since the Chamber of Secrets, I did not have a nightmare.