Tom Riddle One Shots

Heartbreaking - part 2

The party was insane. Slytherins are known to have illustrious parties but this topped all the ones in the past. It was crowded beyond belief but drinks never ran low. It was the last party of our 7th year, or dismissal from Hogwarts a few days away.

Music blasted and lights flashed as we all danced. Rosier took my hand and spun me around until I was dizzy, my shrieks and laughs drowned by the music. He dipped me and my head hit a stranger's ass. He pulled me back up in an instant his face suppressing a smile. I playfully hit him and we continue to dance.

Nights like these it was easy to forget how fucked up Slytherin guys are because they are really good dancers.

He spun me around again. This time right into Tom. I gasped, backing into Rosier who grabbed my arms and pushed me forward back towards Tom. I give him a small smile.

Tom leans in, his lips brushing my ear. My body stills, "Can we talk?"

I lean back, tilting my head. He normally is rather serious and... well suspicious but during a party? he would never. This must be important.

I turn to Rosier holding up a finger. Rosier's eyes were wide, his playful demeanor shifted entirely towards something I've never seen... not since first year. What is Tom going to tell me? 

Tom pulls me away before I can ask Rosier what is going on. His hand was warm from the hot, populated dance floor. I nearly pull my hand away thinking of where is has been. He pushes through people and I reach over and grab a beer on my way out the door.

The hallway is hauntingly quiet, the silent spell on the dorm working wonders. Now in the light, I analyze what Tom looks like. His hair is a mess, dark strands sticking up and a drop of sweat fall from his forehead. When he catches me looking, he runs a hand through his hair, trying to catch my eyes.

I clear my throat, my gaze falling on his. "What's up?"

He looks down at our joined hands and he rubs his thumb over the back of my hand. I squint at him, my breath caught in my throat.

"I need you to not hate me," his voice is strong and my mouth falls open as I try to think of a response. His thumb is so distracting.

"I have a plan and, if I am going to share it with you, you need to promise me you won't hate me," he clarifies but I still am lost in my thoughts. And his thumb, goodness his thumb won't sop moving on my hand.

"What plan?" I say the words slow, my voice foreign as I try to guess what he's going to do.

"promise me," he whispers, his eyes searching mine in the most gentle way I've seen in ages.

"I don't want to lie," I respond, my voice catching. I have to remind myself he doesn't know how he's making me feel. I also have to remind myself he can't know, not with his reputation.

He says my name. "If I take this risk I put 7 years of your good-natured friendship on the line. On the other end, I put your innocence and kindness on the line. Give me reassurance, even if it's a lie."

My breath fails me at the desperation I hear. What is he saying? What is he meaning? The more questions I have the more pain hits me in my heart. I felt this before and I know it won't end well. Most importantly, his thumb is still circling my hand.

"Fine, I promise," I say through my teeth, "what is going on with you?"

He's silent for a few agonizing seconds. He's never been like this before, not even during his awkward kid phase. His thumb is still fucking circling and I can't think straight. I crack open the beer with my teeth, taking a massive swig. I hate the taste but anything to ease my nerves.