Ask Tom Riddle

7K SUPRISE FROM TOM RIDDLE

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*Owldemort delivers gold-lined, important-looking envelopes to you*

Dear (Y/N),
Seven is the most magically powerful number in the world.
Obviously, I'd do something special regarding my 7k views on my Horcrux.

So what did I do?
I wrote a fanfiction.
Why the bloody hell did you do that, Tom?
Because I'd like to *cringe* thank you.
And what is this fanfiction about?
It's a Tom Riddle x Reader imagine. Of the fluffy romantic kind.
Why would you write a fanfiction about yourself, you conceited, arrogant, but devastatingly-handsome git?
Why not?

Without further ado, I present to you a short fanfiction about myself, written by myself. Enjoy.
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The First Horcrux- (Tom Riddle x Reader)
By Tom Marvolo Riddle

The tall arched windows of the Hogwarts library revealed different views of the falling white snowflakes that were barely visible against the darkness of the night. A chilly breeze drifted through the room and past the girl, making her shiver.

There was an air of coldness and loneliness that lingered in the castle. The laughter, chatter, and gossip that could normally be overheard was gone and replaced by an unfamiliar silence. Most of the students had gone home for the holidays, leaving (Y/N) and a few less fortunate others a whole castle to themselves.

It didn't even feel like Christmas.

To make things even better, (Y/N) had caught a cold the day before and spent her Christmas sneezing and coughing her lungs out.

Sighing, she took her book and made her way back to the Slytherin common room. She muttered the password ("Pureblood") and entered the dungeon.

There was a hearty orange fire in the fireplace, filling the room with its warmth, making the place seem much more alive in contrast to the rest of the castle. Perhaps it was so, because the room contained another person other than (Y/N).

A tall handsome young man was leaning on an armchair, reading a thick book in a casual manner. His dark hair had grown slightly longer than the year before and his cheeks were hollowed. Nevertheless, all of this suited him.

Of course, (Y/N) knew who he was. Everybody did. Tom Marvolo Riddle was "one of the most brilliant students to have graced Hogwarts with his presence" (Slughorn's words, not hers.)
He was a prefect, and soon afterwards, Head Boy. When he spoke, he was almost downright polite, and he had a way that made people respect him. He was undeniably clever, getting the top OWL marks in literally everything.

Altogether, (Y/N) believed that Tom Riddle was a little too good to be true.

He looked so peaceful and much more content alone than (Y/N)'s ever seen him with his gang of questionable friends: Avery, Mulciber, Lestrange- all slimy Slytherin gits. She didn't want to disturb him. There was something...intimidating about him. He was quiet, most of the time, and much more serious than the rest of the students in Hogwarts. Silent but deadly. Like a fart.

(Y/N) began to walk towards the girls' dormitories without a word. She let out a loud sneeze. The very man she had been trying not to disturb looked up from his book and his dark eyes met hers.