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regretmedaisy · 6 months

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i can see you - tom riddle x fmc/reader

part II

loosely inspired by "i can see you" by taylor swift.

“I've been watchin' you for ages

And I spend my time tryin' not to feel it”

summary: She had always fancied Tom Riddle. It was an infatuation that bordered on love and obsession, that she had secretly grown and cared for, content with indulging in her fantasies and never bold enough to try and make them become reality.

When she meets him again in her adulthood, dormant longings resurface together with a newfound desire to be the object of his own devotion.

As their paths keep crossing, she starts to think he feels the same.

tags: afab mc, use of female pronouns and no descriptors (i tagged it as x reader because i guess it could be read as such if you use the same pronouns), somewhat period-accurate clothing, courtship (just a little because it's still tom riddle), fmc has a crush on tom, she's a bit anxious, a bit of fluff, explicit sexual desire, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, woman is on top.

please note that mc has a crush on tom, therefore the way she refers to him could sound a bit cheesy and exaggerated. i edited this last night and didn't read it again before posting. i'm sorry for any typos or grammar mistakes i missed.

bear with her in this one, she's a little anxious.

words: 6.7K

you can find part I here, I strongly recommend you read that one first.

this is me crawling out of my hole of shame to post this chapter.

i'm really sorry for this very late update, but the smut chapter is finally here after many days of writing (but still in time for smutober lol).

it's not crazy smut, but i hope it was worth the wait.

Part II: And I could see you up against the wall with me

She tapped her foot, pursing her red lips as she jotted a few numbers down on a parchment. She sighed, taking another folder from the pile on her side and checking if the reports corresponded.

When Serena, her boss, had showed up that morning with two delivery men in tow, she already knew her day was going to take a detestable turn.

Serena had dropped three boxes full of last year's reports in the office and sprinted out of the door before they could say anything and try to stop her.

Apparently she had hired a cheap accountant to save money and now she had to review everything before the Ministry noticed and demanded an audit. Or rather, Serena had asked her to do it.

She was now holed up in the backroom while Will had taken her place in the main office, since Serena didn’t pay her enough to care about customers and save her from bankruptcy at the same time.

She glanced at the clock, noting that it was almost time for her usual break. She chewed the inside of her cheek and returned to the reports.

She wasn’t in the right mindset to meet Tom.

The day she had gone to see him had been like the calm before the literal storm. In the past week it had rained so heavily that she had had to give up on going out and he hadn’t come to post his letters. What had happened between them had been left unresolved.

She had replayed it so many times in her mind, at night and during idle moments in the office, picturing different ways in which it could have ended, desperately wishing she could indulge in his warm lips again.

The first few days she had fretted about it, but as the week had gone by without a word from him, she had just started to accept it as the normal course of things. Perhaps it had just been an extraordinary event, a moment that wasn’t going to repeat itself and that she needed to find contentment in. Perhaps it was supposed to be one of those memories she was going to return to in twenty years, thinking about everything she could have had, or it will sour in her mind, turning into regret while her lamenting soul grieved the possibilities of youth, the chances she had been too scared to take.

It didn’t matter that she was conscious of the anxious butterflies leading her decisions, she still didn’t want to find out if what she saw in him was just a product of her infatuated imagination.

She immersed herself in numbers, refusing to go down that rabbit hole again.

Fifteen minutes after the end of her break, a customer walked in. A beat of silence followed and then Will said, “She’s in the back.”

She almost jumped out of her seat, her heart rate picking up. She quickly smoothed her hair and sat straighter, crossing her legs.

Tom appeared in the doorway, his arm half raised as if he had wanted to knock. She pretended she had just noticed him.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Hello, Tom.” She gave him a mellow smile.

He was so good-looking, with his perfectly styled curls and black coat in the muted light of the cloudy morning. Her heart fluttered painfully.

He looked hesitant as he made his way to her and handed her a folded magazine. It was the weekly crossword.

“Thank you,” she said, taking it as her gaze met his. The way he was looking at her was so compelling it was impossible for her to divert her eyes.

He had been thinking of her, she realised, he had noticed her absence, perhaps even missed her.

“I hope I’m not disrupting your work.” His gaze trailed to the numerous papers scattered on the table.

“Not at all, a distraction is more than welcome.” The distraction of his presence was most desirable.

He drew closer, reading through them as he casually rested his hand on the back of her chair.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Maths mostly,” she replied, fiddling with the parchments to hide her nervousness.

He reached out over her shoulder to grab a folder but she placed a hand on his arm to stop him.

“I’d rather you didn’t. It’s still work.”

He dropped his arm. “You’re right, I apologise. I don’t wish to put you in an uncomfortable position.”

“It’s fine.”

He stepped to the side, tickling her neck.

“I’ll see you later?” he asked.

She had to stop herself from grinning.

“Of course.”

She watched him with desirous parted lips as he left. He said goodbye to Will and she heard the door closing. It was only a matter of minutes before Will came to pry.

She grabbed the crossword, flipping through the pages. He had bought her her favourite one.

As she got up to put it next to her bag, a small note fell to the ground. It was a plain piece of parchment. But as she picked it up, ready to throw it on the table with the rest of the documents, words started to appear.

Her breath caught in her throat. She knew to whom that elegant and neat handwriting belonged.

She read the note. Then read it again to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating.

“I hope to see you more often in the future.

You look stunning with that lip colour.

T.R.”

She brought her fingers to her mouth, staring at the words until each swirl of ink etched into her mind, terrified they might disappear.

Instead his message remained there, visible, tangible, real. He had taken time to write her a note, to think about something he knew she’d appreciate.

Something warm diffused in her chest, a new version of a familiar feeling, and a giggle escaped her as she realised the ridiculous effect he had on her.

She was so engrossed in her reverie that she didn’t notice Will standing in the door until he cleared his throat.

She quickly hid the message in her purse and he was so considerate not to comment on it.

“How is it going?” he asked.

“Awfully slowly, these numbers are all over the place,” she huffed, returning to her chair.

He dragged a chair and sat across from her. He started bouncing his knee. “I know you’d prefer not to talk about this, but how are things between you two?”

She stopped twirling her quill. “What do you mean?”

Will shuffled awkwardly in his seat. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for you but I’d hate to see you hurt.”

She tilted her head to the side, disliking the territory the conversation was heading towards.

He was struggling with his words. “He never- I never saw him interested in a girl. I just want to be sure you know what you can expect from him.”

She averted her eyes. “I have considered all the options.”

“And?”

“And I don’t know, Will!” she bursted out.

Her flare of annoyance suddenly deflated, making room for embarrassment for what he probably saw as naivety.

“I know I’m probably getting ahead of myself.”

“You are smart, I just can’t stand watching you smile at the things he writes to you.”

She feigned offence and threw a balled up paper at him.

“When you find someone, you’ll be just as ridiculous.”

He laughed and steepled his fingers in front of him. “I’m curious to know, when did it start?”

She scrunched her eyebrows, thinking about how much she wanted to reveal. “I don’t remember exactly. It was more like a sequence of events, until one day I was anxiously waiting for him to sit at his usual spot at breakfast,” she replied with a smile. Will was smiling too.

“You and half of Hogwarts,” he said.

She chuckled. “I miss those years sometimes. Everything was simpler.”

“I used to worry about everything,” he admitted. “But fears always seem so big.”

They really did.

“What do you like about him?” he asked after a beat of silence.

It was her turn to be at a loss of words. “He’s handsome…and always so mysterious. I think I always liked him because it was easy to imagine him being exactly what I wanted.” She looked at him hesitantly, fearing judgement, but he was just listening. “But I think it’s impossible for me to dislike the real him.”

They shared a small moment of closure. She had always wished for someone she could confide in, someone that could help her see beyond the fabrications of her wary heart, and perhaps she had finally found them.

The bell chimed and Will got up.

“Do you want to come for lunch on Sunday?” she asked.

“I’d love to. I’m sorry for earlier, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

His gaze shifted between the door and her. “Just make sure you both want the same thing.”

He went back, leaving her at the mercy of her insidious brain and foolish heart.

Throughout the afternoon she had opened the note at least three times, giggling like a schoolgirl everytime she read his words.

Her mind kept straying to what he had said.

“I’ll see you later.”

She wasn’t sure what he had actually meant. Was he just going to stop by or was he going to wait for the office to close? She wasn’t even sure she could see him today, since she expected to stay late to solve Serena’s mess.

Will popped in. “I have to check something at the owlery. I’ll be back in a while.”

“Alright, I’ll see you later.”

The door opened and closed and then she was submerged by stillness. It was soothing almost.

She had found out long ago that she enjoyed being alone, it freed her of any kind of expectation.

She turned up the heating with her wand and took off her jacket. Since they couldn’t light a fireplace in a room full of paper, they had refined a spell that kept the room warm and the humidity away.

It was a few minutes after the usual closing hour that the door opened again. She knew who it was.

He walked in, his cheeks slightly flushed from the cold and his lips reddened.

“Are you still working?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’m afraid it’ll take a while before I’m free to go.”

“It’s not a problem,” he said, grabbing her crossword and a quill and sitting down on a chair, bending one leg so that his ankle rested on his other knee.

Her face heated as she watched him but she didn’t say anything.

As she returned to her work, she realised that silence was a strange assistant. It felt like every sound was heightened and she was becoming keenly aware of everything that was happening. The scratching of their quill on parchment, paper being flipped as she checked the numbers or he looked for a crossword he liked, his soft breath threatening to pull her close like a magnet, her absentmindedly chipping her nail polish.

She kept throwing glances in his direction and she could feel his eyes on her from time to time.

An unspoken craving was growing between them again. She had waited long enough.

She slowly got up, gathering her reports and stacking them in a neat pile. She then took them and walked over to the shelves, conveniently passing by Riddle in doing so.

As she stored them, his chair scraped on the ground and she felt him draw closer. She deliberately turned around, meeting his eyes.

His gaze was deep, like he was trying to read every thought that crossed her mind just by looking at her. She wasn’t going to lay them bare for him.

He raised his hand, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Did you get my message?”

“I did,” she replied, stepping forward and trailing her fingers down his suit jacket, feeling the fabric. “You keep mentioning it but this is the first time I’ve seen you all week.”

“It was storming all week,” he pointed out.

She tilted her head, finding his eyes again. His eagerness was palpable. “Still,” she said.

He grabbed her waist, pressing her body flush against his. “And you still haven’t answered my question.”

She had thought about that moment since then.

“Tell me what you desire the most.”

What could she tell him? That she had been pining for him for so long she couldn’t imagine herself with anyone else? That she was jealous of even thinking about him with someone else? Will’s words played in her mind.

She leaned closer, murmuring against his ear. “Not until I know why you’re here, Tom.”

She left a kiss on his jaw, phantom lips brushing against his flawless skin.

“It’s a really uncomplicated answer,” he said, caressing her back.

“Explain it to me, then.”

Tender amusement tugged at the corners of his lips. “Do you really think I came here because I don’t own an owl?”

His words pulled at her heartstrings with raw delight and her mind went blank. Adrenaline was rushing through her as she listened to her impulses. It was enough, at least for now it was enough.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and tangled her hand in his hair, involuntarily tugging at the strands as she leaned closer. She could feel his warm breath as he pulled her in, gripping the silky fabric of her blouse.

She met his lips halfway, the burning touch consuming her as he pressed her against the shelves, one hand lost in her hair, the other splayed around her ribcage.

She bit his lower lip, smiling as it elicited a groan from him and the kiss became more demanding.

It was a moment frozen in time, where she wanted to stay forever, like the scenery in a snowglobe.

“Hello?”

A man’s voice abruptly pulled them apart. She was breathless as she realised she had forgotten to lock the door. Was this a conspiracy?

Tom was slightly panting and she left a small kiss on his neck.

“Don’t leave,” she whispered.

She used a finger to fix her smudged lipstick and went to see who had just dared to interrupt them.

There was a man standing in the office.

“We’re closed,” she said.

“But I saw the light on.”

There was a twitch in her jaw. “We are closed to the public. I must ask you to come tomorrow morning.”

He rolled his eyes and she ignored his grumbling as he left, locking the door behind him. When she went back, Tom was leaning against the table.

He turned his head towards her as she languidly got closer. She forgot pleasantries, immediately grabbing his face to kiss him again. He was quick to react, wrapping his arms around her.

His mouth trailed down, kissing her cheek, her jaw and then pressing against her neck, soft lips and the occasional scrape of his teeth.

He grabbed her waist and spun her around, flattening her back against his chest and brushing her hair away from her neck to bite and lick her skin. His hands travelled down and he started gathering the fabric of her skirt.

Merlin, it was finally happening.

He caressed her inner thigh, tracing patterns and snapping the nylon of her stockings as his fingers moved excruciatingly slow.

Finally he pulled her underwear to the side, feeling the wetness between her folds with his fingers as his other hand cupped her breast.

She threw her head back against his shoulder as he stroked her clit, eliciting a sigh out of her, and she grabbed his thigh for support.

“I won’t drop you,” he murmured, amused, against her ear. He rubbed his palm over her clothed breast, the friction causing sparks to jolt through her body.

None of her fantasies came even close to what she was feeling right now.

“Should I trust you?” she asked, biting her lip to suppress a moan as he sunk one finger inside of her, his thumb still applying pressure on her clit.

“Such a great timing to ask me that,” he replied. She felt him smile on her skin.

“We don’t really know each other, Tom.” She dug her fingers into his flesh as he slipped in a second finger and started fingering her, stretching her as pleasure morphed her features.

“And yet you are letting me do this.” He squeezed her breast, lewd wet sounds filling the room as he kept moving his fingers inside of her.

She leaned her body weight completely on him, her legs unsteady as it was precarious the beating of her heart.

He let out a low moan as she yanked his hair to catch his mouth, biting his lip hard to gain better access, their tongues tangling together.

He curled his fingers inside of her, an unrelenting wave of pleasure washing over her.

She stopped to imagine what it would be like if he dropped to his knees again, if he started kissing and licking her, if she could watch him at her mercy between her legs.

She realised in that moment that the fall down the precipice was inevitable. Tom had threatened to push her but she had allowed him to succeed, jumping into an abyss that felt unending but that could only allow two conclusions to her story.

What she had told Will was true. She loved the fantasy, all the glances, conversations, gestures that had never happened, that she had delighted herself with when the reality was harsher, but as she kissed him she knew that falling for the real Tom was unavoidable. Not if he kept touching her like that.

It was bound to happen, it was part of her story, the decision she was brave enough to take.

She focused on him, on the circles his thumb was drawing on her clit, on the indecent sounds falling from her lips, on his groans on her reddened skin, on him growing harder against her back.

He pulled her hair back, tilting her head to meet her gaze. His eyes glimmered with rapture while hers were heavy-lidded, tension building inside of her.

He didn’t take his eyes off of her, as if he wanted to memorise each detail of her, the way she looked at him, the way her lips parted slightly and the way she panted as she was nearing her orgasm.

“Just like that, darling,” he murmured, a pleased smile on his lips as he noticed she was still blushing.

She threw her head back, losing herself in the motion of his fingers, surrendering herself as blissed moans spilled out shamelessly. She squeezed his soaked fingers, and he kept moving, stroking her throughout her climax.

She panted, coming down from her apex in a flurry of emotions and flustered thoughts. He raised his wet fingers to her lips and she opened her mouth, tasting herself on her tongue as she sucked on them, never breaking eye contact.

“Good girl,” he said, holding her jaw and kissing her.

It was a slow kiss, meant to explore her depths in a different way from the breathless and unrestrained passion from before. She leaned into his palm, her hand closing around his wrist.

His arms snaked around her waist and he turned them around, pushing under her thighs to lift her on the table.

The kiss transformed again.

Teeth and tongues met with vehemence, burning urgency guiding their movements as he brought her legs around his waist and she quickly started to unbutton her blouse.

But at the third button, she stopped.

Tom noticed the shift in her demeanour and drew back, observing her. Her eyes flew to the clock, as she had just remembered about Will.

She noticed with disappointment that they had no time.

“What is it?” he asked. She didn’t miss the urgent tone of his question.

“Will will be back any time now,” she replied, leaving a peck on his lips.

He cleared his throat and stepped back, composing himself. She got off the table and

cool hands unexpectedly reached her again, adjusting her clothes and stockings. She shivered at the contact.

He smoothed her skirt and put his coat back on, watching her as she scribbled something on a piece of paper and gave it to him.

“If you want to stop by one of these days.”

“I remember where you live,” he replied, reading the address she had written down.

She shrugged, holding out one finger to wipe away the lipstick at the corner of his mouth.

“Do you have to go back to work?”

“I was supposed to meet with a potential supplier, so yes.”

“I’d stop by the bathroom before,” she advised, gesturing for him to go as she herself needed to compose herself again.

She braced herself against the threshold, leaning her head on the hard wood as she watched him unlock the door and leave.

Then she was alone, finally finding an answer in the cluster of hypotheses that had tormented her mind.

Two days later, as she was returning from her meeting with Serena, she found Tom waiting for her.

He was talking to Will and they both turned to her as she entered, feeling tremendously self-conscious.

“How is Serena?” Will asked.

“Dim-witted as always,” she replied, earning a laugh from Will.

Her eyes trailed to Riddle, holding an unspoken question.

Will seemed to notice because he stepped forwards.

“It’s quite late, you can go if you want, I’ll close.”

Tom didn’t wait for him to repeat himself, pushing down the handle and holding the door open for her.

She mouthed a ‘thank you’ to him and followed Tom outside. Once in the street, she huddled herself in her coat and took the arm he was offering her.

“May I walk you home?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said, a little breathy, still not immune to the chivalrous manners he always had with her.

They strolled through the streets, passing by scarcer and scarcer people as the stores emptied and everyone returned home seeking a tranquil evening.

She held his arm tightly, her fingers tracing delicate patterns on the fabric of his coat.

The first time they had walked together it had felt like an accident, a singular mistake in the already waved threads of her life. This time, she yearned for so much more than she wanted for the error to repeat itself; she was willing to cut the strings herself and tie them back together, as messy as it might have looked.

They crossed the road and he gently put a hand on her waist, pushing her away from the pavement.

“Would you fancy dinner?” he asked. There was a foreign quality in his voice and when she turned to look at him, he averted his eyes. She blinked bewildered. Was he nervous?

“I’d love to,” she replied and she noticed his chest rising like he had just begun breathing again. “But not tonight.”

An almost imperceptible smile cleared his expression at her answer and she leaned her head on his shoulder, basking in his mere presence.

When they reached her front door, she looked for her keys with embarrassingly clammy hands.

As she lifted her head to ask Tom if he wanted to stay, she found his eyes impatiently boring into her bag.

“Would you-”

His gaze snapped to her, serious and scorching. “Don’t even ask.”

Something coiled between her legs at the way he was looking at her. She nodded and walked up the few stairs to her door, unlocking it.

“Second floor,” she said, more to fill the silence than anything else.

They stepped into the building, the sound of her heels and the soles of his shoes hitting the stone ricocheting through the empty hall.

She turned to gesture to him to follow her when he grabbed her face, kissing her as he pushed her against the wall by the foot of the stairs. Her hands tangled in his hair, tugging at it just as she suspected he loved by the way he always pressed himself harder against her.

He curved his palm around her cheek, better angling her face as their tongues met.

“I have a nosy neighbour,” she said after they pulled apart to catch their breath. “She is probably spying on us through her peephole.”

Tom didn’t think twice about it, taking her hand and leading her up to the second floor. She stifled a laugh as she unlocked the door, Tom’s lips skimming against her neck as she did, and was left breathless when he closed it unceremoniously behind them, resuming from where they had been interrupted.

As she dropped her bag and grabbed his waist, walking backwards into her living room, she remembered there were clothes somewhere - perhaps in the bathroom but she wasn’t sure - that she had forgotten to put away yesterday.

In any case, Tom didn’t look particularly interested in how tidy she was.

They quickly took off each other's coats and discarded them on the floor.

He sat on her sofa, pulling her down with him.

She was straddling him, her knees digging into the plush cushions as his hands appreciatively caressed her back, moving up and down and occasionally squeezing. She lit the fireplace with a wave of her hand.

She rocked her hips, rubbing against him and eliciting a long awaited moan from him. She grabbed the collar of his shirt, their lips collading so hard she was sure she cut him.

She helped him out of his jacket and vest and undid his tie, smoothing her hands on his white button-down.

“I’ve waited too long,” she said, quickly unbuttoning his shirt and grinding against him. Her hands disappeared under his undershirt and ran over his pale chest, lightly scratching his skin.

“Slowly, my dear. We will get there,” he replied between kisses.

His palms kept tracing her thighs and his face buried in her neck, nibbling at the thin skin.

When she was a small girl, before she discovered sex, Tom Riddle was just a boy she liked. During puberty, sharing stories and questions with her friends, she started to understand what was the sensation that passed through her everytime she was close to him, the one that made her cheeks redden and her mind go somewhere she wasn’t yet comfortable with.

As an adult, sexual relations weren’t unfamiliar to her, but this carnal longing, the need of a physicality that went beyond her skin touching his, was.

He opened her blouse, revealing her silk slip and bra underneath.

She wanted to touch his soul, to hold it and comprehend it.

Her eyes fell on the tattoo on his forearm, black tendrils of ink in the shape of a serpent slithering out of a skull.

“Does this have a meaning?” she asked.

He followed her gaze, blinking surprised at her question. “It does.”

“Am I prying too much if I say I’m curious to learn it?”

He bit his lip, opening and closing his fist as if he was scrambling for words. Or perhaps he was just determining if he could trust her.

“It’s a reinterpretation of the ouroboros, the snake eating its own tail,” he finally said. “It symbolises eternity and the renewal of the being after rebirth.”

She traced her fingers on his skin, following the outline of the snake. “And what does your interpretation mean?”

“There is time to talk about it later,” he whispered, his teeth biting her neck and sinking lower, kissing her collarbone and her sternum, moving the fabric covering her breasts to the side.

She let go of the subject. She knew what it meant not being comfortable sharing your life.

He held one breast between his fingers, latching his mouth over the other, sucking her nipple and twirling his tongue around it.

She moaned, rolling her hips faster as he revered her bosom, the cold air hitting her moist skin and making her shiver as he took her other nipple in his mouth, lightly tugging at it until she reached the point where pleasure and discomfort mixed.

“Since we are in the mood for confessions…” she said between moans. He raised his head and looked at her waiting for her to continue. She hesitated, collecting all her courage.

“Why did you pursue me?”

His eyes softened, glimmering with fondness. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

“Because there is something extremely valuable in your devotion.” His voice was an intimate murmur, a confession no one else could hear.

She freezed, turning her head to the side to hide her mortification.

He took her chin, searching for her eyes until she finally gave in.

“Don’t be embarrassed, darling, I respect it, I understand it. Obsession keeps us alive, it’s what drives us.”

She swallowed the lump of embarrassment in her throat. “Do you enjoy it?”

“Being the object of the desire of such a woman? Of a witch? I do,” he replied, and he was so direct and earnest that her heart swelled.

He lifted her to sit on the sofa, sliding down on his knees on the floor and taking off his shirt and vest. She remained silent as he rolled down her tights, his lips gliding down her smooth skin. He unbuttoned her skirt and helped her out of it, tracing patterns on her inner thigh as his other hand felt her damp underwear.

She tensed, something tightening in her lower abdomen and her eyes fell down to his trousers.

He kissed the crease of the thigh, like he had done that one time at Borgin and Burkes, but this time she wasn’t letting anyone interrupt them.

He took off her underwear, his movements deliberately slow, and kissed her everywhere, except there.

His lips felt hot on her skin, searing her flesh like she had often dreamed about, carving his way into her body the same way he had done with her mind and heart, until her entire soul was consumed by him, until he could finally close that fist and feel her in a way nobody had before.

Her breath hitched as he delicately kissed her mound, spreading her legs apart. She leaned her head against the backrest, licking her lips with anticipation, and she couldn’t contain a whimper as he felt his tongue dragging down her slit, sweet and cruel.

He took her clit in his mouth, sucking on it as his hand splayed on her abdomen to keep her still.

She squeezed her eyes shut, overwhelmed.

“Look at me, darling,” he murmured against her folds. His breath was warm and pleasant.

She obliged, meeting his devilish grinning figure between her legs. She was incapable of looking away as he resumed his work, she didn’t want to look away. She wanted to watch him, finally allowing herself to fully indulge in him, in what he wished to do for her.

She observed his curved eyelashes, the way his perceptive eyes followed her reactions, refining his movements to please her better.

He sucked her labia and she moaned loudly, the idea of him enjoying this as much as her being exhilarating.

He threw her leg on his shoulder, resulting in her figure sliding down the cushions and him gaining better access to her.

His tongue probed her entrance as he coated his fingers in her wetness. He slipped one finger in, working her thoroughly as she gripped his hair, keeping his head in place.

He inserted a second finger, his tongue on her clit moving accordingly to the delighted sounds she emitted.

“Tom,” she cried urgently as she tried to press herself harder against him.

He curled his fingers inside of her and her hips jolted upwards, arching her back to an uncomfortable angle as she reached her orgasm with lascivious bliss, her obscene moans matching the wet sounds he produced by licking her until she came down from her climax.

“Tom,” she said again, so breathless her voice was a raspy whisper.

“I know,” he said, kissing her leg and inhaling deeply, like he was trying to commit the moment to memory.

He brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean as she let her watch.

She gently pushed him onto the carpet, bracing her hands on his shoulder as she sat on top of him. The fire was burning, enveloping their almost naked figures in warm orange light, heating their already scalding skin.

She took off her blouse with quivery hands, his gaze tracing her naked form that was slowly revealing itself. She hooked her fingers into the straps of her slip, pulling it down and then getting rid of it altogether. His hands on her waist tensed as she did the same for her bra.

Her lips parted as he touched her breast with both hands, kneading the soft flesh, tracing her areolae.

She undid his trousers, pulling down the fabric until they were both completely naked. She took him in her hand, her fingers closing tentatively around him. Her hand started sliding up and down, her pace getting quicker and more confident as moans escaped him. She brushed her thumb on his tip, her eyes admiring what was in front of her. His lips were swollen, residue of her lipstick still on them, his hair was tousled, curls falling disorderly on his forehead, his eyes heavy-lidded as he looked at her. She felt a rush of satisfaction in knowing his current state was her doing, that she had enough power over him to ruin his flawless exterior, to make him want her to do it.

His lips caught hers and he gently pushed her hand away.

What happened after felt like rehearsed choreography, something so familiar it was impossible to forget. Their bodies moved together, their movements responsive to each other, doing and touching exactly where it mattered.

She pushed herself up on her knees, slowly lowering herself until she sank down on him completely, shuddering breaths escaping her lips.

His jaw was tense as she placed a hand on his shoulder for support, positioning herself better.

She didn’t break eye contact as she rolled her hips, soaking in the hazy blue of his eyes, in every twitch of his jaw and emotion he was feeling as she increased her pace, in his voice murmuring her name against her ear as his hands squeezed her tights and traced her back.

Skin slapped against skin, his touch inebriating as he felt every part of her, caressing her, massaging her, kissing her until she couldn’t take it anymore. Almost.

His hand dipped between her legs again, stroking her clit as she rocked her hips, eliciting groans from both of them.

Sentiment and pleasure fused together in an exhilarating moment, seared in her mind and flesh forever.

She kissed him again - she could never get tired of that - and bit his lower lip roughly as his other hand went to her breast again, pulling at her nipple.

She threw her head back, letting his mouth scrape over her neck and chest, leaving behind scorching wet kisses. Or perhaps those were marks reddening her skin, she didn’t particularly care.

He gripped her waist, thrusting upwards as she held onto him tighter. Her nails drew half-moons into his back and she bit his neck, the fibres of the carpet scratching her knees.

The lights in the flat fluttered momentarily.

His fingers increased the pressure on her clit as his thrusts grew in intensity with one purpose in mind.

She bit her lip, trying to hold back, to prolong this instant of pure bliss before she inevitably plummeted onto the other side.

She arched her back, moving accordingly to his rhythm, her hips bucking erratic as she rubbed against his pelvis.

And then she fell down, unrestrained, her walls closing around him as she moaned uncontrollably. He didn’t stop, drawing circles on her sensitive skin until her breath found a semblance of steadiness again.

“You did so good,” he whispered against her forehead, brushing a strand of sweaty hair away.

She slumped against him, her hands grabbing onto his biceps as he chased his own pleasure, his movements turning frantic, losing his rhythm.

She found herself murmuring against his skin the same things she had never had the courage to say out loud, not even to herself. She wasn’t sure he was even listening to her, engrossed as he was, but it didn’t matter.

He squeezed her tights once and she understood, rolling to the side as he deftly touched himself, fast strokes that culminated in white spurts all over his hand. She watched him mesmerised

He turned to look at her, his chest rising and falling rapidly. The fire casted shadows on his gorgeous face.

They stayed like that for a long moment, gazing into each other, trying to guess what the other was thinking, making sense of what remained of themselves after what had just happened.

Did it have the same momentous effect on both of them? Or was it just her that knew she couldn’t go back to being acquaintances after this?

“Do you want to stay here tonight?” she asked. Her voice sounded faint and husky to her own ears.

“I do,” he replied without a second of hesitation.

They didn’t get up, instead resting against the foot of her sofa. She curled up against him as his hand traced indistinct patterns on her skin, remaining in this haze of indiscernible unspoken feelings they were both still trying to find a name for.

When she woke up the next morning he was gone. As she took in the cold sheets and missing clothes, her heart threatened to crack.

She got up groggily, conclusions already forming in her mind, building the most pessimistic of pictures.

She felt anxious as she wore her robe and opened the door, heading straight for the bathroom. Halfway down the corridor, the sound of someone flipping through a newspaper halted her in her steps.

She stepped into the kitchen, finding Tom sitting in a chair with his legs crossed.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning,” she said back, adjusting the belt of her robe.

She noticed he had made breakfast, a steaming coffee pot, kept warm by magic, and some pastries she had never bought waiting for her on the table.

She turned to take a mug from a cabinet so that she could hide her smitten smile. When she closed the cabinet, she found him looking at her.

There was no need for words.

“Where did you get that?” she asked as she poured herself some coffee, referring to the newspaper.

“I stole it from your neighbour, I hope she won’t mind.”

She laughed. “So you know how to make a joke.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She sat next to him, crossing her legs. She perhaps needed to rethink her choice of slippers.

“You were always so serious growing up.”

She put a spoonful of sugar in her coffee.

“That never seemed to deter you.”

“It doesn’t.”

He took a sip of his own coffee. “Good.”

“Does it deter you, knowing how I feel?”

He blinked. “It never had. It makes it more interesting if I have to be honest.”

She blushed, scared to ask the next question.

“How long have you known?”

He got up, brushing his knuckles on her cheek.

“Long enough to see you for who you truly are.”

He bent to give her a chaste kiss. “I should go, the shop opens in half an hour.”

He put on his coat and grabbed his leather gloves from his pocket. She turned in her chair, treasuring the last few moments of him in her apartment.

“There’s still a lot you haven’t learned yet.”

She refused to be an open book to him. There was so much about her that was still incomprehensible even to her and too much she wanted to show him on her own terms. She wanted to be enigmatic, to drive him mad.

“I know.”

Her disappointment was visible on her face as she was met with his silence. She had wanted to continue that conversation, to learn what he had observed.

Instead he opened her front door, throwing her one last glance, heavy with unsaid intention she hoped she wasn’t imagining, before leaving.

She had almost finished her breakfast when she noticed a small note under the newspaper he had left behind. She grabbed it faster than she was willing to admit, almost knocking over her cup in the process, and unfolded it.

“Dinner tonight?

I’ll pick you up at eight.

T.R.”

the last part is a bonus scene i wanted to write to apologize for my tardiness. tom is a little different, but I hope he isn't too out of character.

i honestly had so much fun writing this short story and exploring a different tom from the one i usually read and write about. i hope you enjoyed this and thank you for reading!

#tom riddle x fmc #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle #tom riddle fic #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle smut #tom marvolo riddle #harry potter #hp fanfic #tom riddle x oc

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regretmedaisy · 8 months

Text

i can see you - tom riddle x fmc/reader

part I

loosely inspired by "i can see you" by taylor swift.

“I've been watchin' you for ages

And I spend my time tryin' not to feel it”

When she meets him again in her adulthood, dormant longings resurface together with a newfound desire to be the object of his own devotion.

As their paths keep crossing, she starts to think he feels the same.

tags: afab mc, use of female pronouns and no descriptors (i tagged it as x reader because i guess it could be read as such if you use the same pronouns), somewhat period-accurate clothing, courtship (just a little because it's still tom riddle), fmc has a crush on tom, very light foreplay (fem!receiving, clothes stay on), a bit of fluff, explicit sexual desire, mention of masturbation.

words: 5.9K

More smut in part II

Part I: You brush past me in the hallway

She couldn’t recall when her obsession with Tom Riddle had started. Perhaps she had always felt that way.

She thought about him as she got ready for school, walked to breakfast or sat in the Great Hall to study, her heart fluttering every time his eyes wandered in her direction. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t actually looking at her - the fantasy was enough.

She felt herself blushing every time he walked past her in the corridors, her gaze sometimes daring, sometimes hesitant, careful not to look at him for too long in case he realised her feelings, but enough to not come off as completely indifferent. Just in case he felt the same.

She had become an ever-present shadow, one he could have moulded into whatever he desidered, as her heart, easily-fooled by an irresistible pretence that had shaped her passion and longing, didn’t know any other affection.

She ignored everything there was to know about him, as he only existed in her fantasy, beautiful and clever and mesmerising. She started following him everywhere: watching him as he sat reading in the courtyard, getting detention when he was the one supervising.

They had once talked and he had smiled at her. Oh, what a moment that had been. She had laid in bed, her face in the pillow, giggling as her roommates asked her what had happened.

But she had never wanted him to know. She liked to dream about him but never expected him to make those dreams come true.

After they graduated school, she felt empty. Her fantasies were vacant of their predominant character and she had spent a few nights crying about never seeing him again, although she didn’t like to wander in that part of her memories that much.

Then, through a series of coincidences she liked to think were fate’s doing, she had gotten a job at the post office.

She had been on her way to deliver a missive to Flourish and Blotts - a favour she did to the old owner - when he had walked past her.

Time had stopped.

She couldn’t hear or feel anything. Not the wind brushing through her hair and cooling her cheeks nor the jumbled chatter of the street. Everything was muted and still, except for him.

He was dressed in a tasteful black suit, his jacket buttoned, and his stride was long and confident. He stopped in front of the newspaper rack, picked one up, paid and left without a glance to her or anyone else.

It was only when he had disappeared down the street that she had snapped out of it, realising she had been crumpling the letter in her hands.

Back in the office, she had discreetly asked Will - who had been working there longer than her - about him. He was almost certain Tom had been working in Knockturn Alley for a while and an errand in that part of the city had confirmed his presumption.

The next day, as she was trying not to shout at a customer that if he wanted his package delivered to France in one day he could’ve delivered it himself, she had seen him walk by through the glass door.

And the next day as she was busy sorting through the deliveries.

And the next one again.

On the fourth day, she had taken her break around the time she had calculated he was going to pass by. She had to suppress her giddiness when she saw him.

Since then, she duly waited for him as he punctually went to buy his newspaper.

“Isn’t it a bit cold to be outside voluntarily?” Will asked one day, standing up from his seat to return to the storage room as she went back inside. She hung her coat and scarf, fixing the collar of her jumper.

“I like the fresh air.” She sat down at her desk, getting back to her tasks. It had been an unexpectedly slow morning, leaving her time to write the report she usually needed to cram between customers.

She leaned back against her chair, absent-mindedly twirling her quill between her fingers as her mind went back to the same subject that had filled her younger years.

Since that fortunate day of September, her infatuation with Tom Riddle had returned to burn like a wildfire, but it had also felt different. It wasn’t the childish crush of a teenager anymore, unbridled in her fantasies and hesitant in her action. It was a different type of fixation, more subdued, more restrained, perhaps more mature. He felt familiar and new at the same time, and she was content with watching him, appeased by his mere existence.

But lately she had felt the compelling need to to draw closer, to enter his orbit without actually being pulled in by it.

Those were desires she succumbed to during other times of the day.

She anxiously drummed her fingers on the desk, her eyes urgently checking the clock as the man in front of her couldn’t bother to fill out his form. If she wasn’t going to do it today she wasn’t sure when she’ll find the courage again.

She hurriedly signed it as he handed it over and retrieved her coat.

“I’m going on break!” She didn’t even wait for Will to answer before stepping out in the street.

She could feel her heart beating in her chest as she walked, her heels clattering on the cobblestones. Perhaps high heels weren’t a good idea, her legs felt less steady than she had anticipated. She adjusted the silk scarf around her neck and smoothed a hand over her curls as she went straight to the magazine rack.

Alright, she needed to stay calm and look relaxed. Nothing of importance was happening. She was just there to buy a magazine.

She browsed through a few, incapable of actively reading the headlines since her mental capacity was too occupied waiting with him.

Minutes passed inexorably, her tension growing imposing until it exploded into a million butterflies the moment she noticed him. She didn’t turn, instead subtly moving in front of the stand where they sold his newspaper, pretending to skim, deep in thought.

She could hear him walking closer until he was right next to her.

He was wearing his coat, his hands in his pockets, his shoulders slightly hunched to read the headlines. His presence was impossible to miss and became even more breathtaking when he scooted closer to her, his arm stretching out to grab a newspaper right in front of her. His side brushed against her arm and she couldn’t stop herself from taking in all she could. His scent, his warmth, the mere occasion of being so close to him.

Her eyes moved to find his of their own volition. His expression was slightly surprised, like he wasn’t expecting her to consider him. He held her gaze for a second, his blue eyes glinting in her morning light, lively like she had only occasionally seen them.

He pressed his lips together and nodded to her in greeting, folding the newspaper under his arm before entering the store to pay.

She was breathless. The wind had picked up, biting against her cheeks that she knew must have turned flush. She forced herself to divert her attention, deciding on a crossword magazine just as he left the store.

“Five letters, it starts with an S,” she read, “It can be found at Hogwarts.”

“Stars?” Will attempted, his voice muffled from the thud of some boxes he was moving.

It had been a few weeks since her last encounter (if it could be called that) with Tom. Since then, once a week she would dress more attentively and get to Flourish and Blotts in time to wait for him. She would choose a different magazine or newspaper every time, although crosswords were her favourite to waste her time between customers.

She had come to the conclusion that one trip a week was enough to satisfy her persistent yearning without drawing too much attention to herself. The rest of the week she spent her break outside, unperturbed by the changing of the seasons and the chilly weather.

“Yes, because stars are a prerogative of Hogwarts,” she jested. She could hear Will grumble something through the open door that separated them.

“I think it’s ‘Squid’,” she said triumphantly, writing the word down. She held up the paper like she was reading it for an entire audience. “Next, it tells you the truth you might not want to hear. Eight letters.”

“Veritaserum!” Will enthusiastically suggested.

“That’s eleven letters. Honestly, did you even go to school?” It was like this every time, he would just throw out the first thing that came to mind. It was still funny, though.

“Honesty maybe? No, it’s seven letters. Let me get the dictionary.”

Sometimes she wondered how he had managed to run the office alone until they had hired her.

“Synonyms with eight letters, let’s see.” She could hear him quickly turning the pages. Why did he have a dictionary in there she could not say.

“I don’t think it’s an-” She lifted her gaze as the doorbell chimed and her sentence got cut off by a sudden rush of heat that didn’t allow her to think clearly for a few seconds.

Tom Riddle crossed the threshold. He took off his leather gloves and turned down the collar of his jacket.

She was embarrassingly wide-eyed as he approached her desk.

“Hello,” he said.

She blinked a few times, trying to remember the customs of the society she got raised in.

“Hi, how can I help you?” She gave him her usual bright customer service smile. Thank Merlin habits were stronger than feelings.

“I have a letter to post.” He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out an envelope.

“Sure,” she said, her tone professional and experienced. “Just fill out this form, please.”

She offered him a quill and her eyes lowered on his long slender fingers as he skillfully gripped it. She could have watched him write all day, but instead pretended to be busy sorting through a cabinet.

Will came out of the backroom, holding his beloved dictionary. He gave Tom a tight cordial smile and set the dictionary in front of her, pointing to a specific word. “Morality”.

She glanced quickly at Tom before focusing on Will.

“What does that have to do with the truth?” Her tone was an aggravated whisper.

He shrugged. “I don’t know, but it has eight letters,” he whispered back. She held in the laugh that threatened to escape her as she looked at him.

She gestured for him to leave before Tom reported them as unprofessional and turned to him as he handed her the signed papers.

“Thank you.” Why did her voice suddenly sound so shrilly? She cleared her throat, trying to regain some dignity.

She checked the address and noticed it was in England. “It will be dispatched with the afternoon owls and will probably reach your addressee by tomorrow.” She was not required to give him this information, but she just wanted to keep him there a little longer.

He nodded and smiled warmly at her. Butterflies bloomed again like flowers. “Perfect, thank you.”

“Have a good day,” she said.

“You too.” He turned but then halted, like he had just changed his mind about something. “It's ‘Prophecy’ by the way.”

She frowned, confused on what he meant, until she remembered the crossword. “Oh, thank you.”

She watched him open the door and leave. And then watched him some more through the window as he returned to Knockturn Alley, something warm diffusing through her.

“I knew it!” Will's exultant voice broke her reverie.

She whipped her head around. “What?” By the way he was looking at her, his eyes gleaming like they had just witnessed the most engaging of gossip, she could guess exactly what he was talking about.

“When you asked all those questions I thought nothing of it, but you spend all your breaks outside, and it’s so windy in this part of Diagon Alley! I knew there was a reason. Especially after you started coming to work looking very lovely.”

“So, since I care about my look and spend my break outside, you deduced that…what exactly?

He leaned against the doors with his arms crossed and raised an eyebrow. His expression was so self-assured she knew she couldn’t deny her way out.

“Are you telling me you don’t fancy Tom Riddle? Because if I liked men I would definitely fancy him.”

“Don’t even start,” she sighed, covering her face.

If someone had told her years ago what would have happened in the next few weeks, she would have thought they had more imagination than her.

Aside from Will forcing her to buy another crossword, since the one she had chosen was part of some sort of divination conspiracy - his words.

“What does it have to do with the ‘truth you don’t want to hear’?” he had said. “Divination is just a scam, let me tell you.”

Tom had been coming and going from the post office. The response to his letter had arrived three days later and he had personally showed up to collect it.

She had always assumed that Riddle and the people he corresponded with had their own owl, but perhaps she had mistakenly presumed who he was exchanging letters with.

In school she had often dreamt of receiving a letter or a simple note from him, something to keep next to her bed and occasionally reread, wishing for things she didn’t have the courage to take for herself.

An insidious thought had crept into her mind after the first letter, instigating jealous feelings she had never felt. In school he had never shown interest in romantic liaisons, but his intentions could have changed since then.

The morning after, checking who he had sent the letter to was the first thing she had done once she had stepped into the office, professionalism be damned.

It was now a gloomy day, kept bearable by the prospect of talking to him.

“Good morning,” he greeted her as came in half an hour later, closing his umbrella and leaving it by the entrance. The sound of pounding rainfall on the street filled the silence. His coat was dampened around the sleeves and shoulders and his curls fell haphazardly on his forehead. “I believe you have something for me.”

She smiled at him. “Let me just get your letter, I think it arrived today.” She got up and reached for one of the shelves next to her. She knew he was coming today, so she had worn her nicest pair of work heels and a flattering skirt. Her curls had also turned out prettier than usual.

She perused the envelopes but didn’t find any addressed to him.

In the backroom, Will was reading a book with his legs crossed on the table. She searched through the newest delivery but couldn’t find it.

“Where is the letter?” she asked under her breath.

Will lifted his eyes from the page and adjusted his glasses. “What letter?”

“His letter, Will,” she hissed. “I saw it earlier.”

“If it isn’t there I don’t know what to tell you. Perhaps he switched up the dates.”

He noticed her accusatory expression and prudently held up his hands. “I’ll send a note to see if the owl got lost. Will that help you relax?”

Her features distended. “Yes, thank you. I’ll tell him to come by later.”

“Did you ask if he wants tea as well?”

She rolled her eyes laughing, relieved he wasn’t mad at her - she was feeling guilty for her unfair distrust - and went back to Tom, who was flipping through a brochure.

She threw him an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid we had some troubles with the owl carrying your missive.”

She couldn’t read his face as he listened to her.

“It’s fine, I’ll return before you close.” He grabbed his umbrella, completely unperturbed.

“We are really sorry,” she said, resisting the urge to start chipping away her nail polish.

His eyes bore into her. “Don’t worry about it, it’s not your fault.”

Lightning struck in that same moment, a blast of wind slamming against the windows as thunder made her swallow her redundant apologies.

“Let’s hope it will stop raining by then,” she mumbled more to herself, watching the raindrops fall quickly and heavily.

After lunch, Will brought her the envelope she had been desperately looking for. The paper was surprisingly pristine, not even a drop of water or a crease on it.

“It just arrived,” he announced with a wink.

“You’re telling me an owl flew with this rain?”

“I always told you I believe those animals have superpowers.” He shrugged and returned to his duties.

She stacked it on top of a pile of papers, smiling involuntary. She was embarrassed by herself.

An hour later, Will stepped out of the office with his coat and scarf on.

“I’m leaving for today. Do you want me to wait for you?” he asked. Rain was still pounding on the glass.

“You can go. Hopefully it will stop.” He nodded, retrieved his umbrella and disappeared among the flock of passersby.

She glanced at the clock, wishing time could just run faster so that she could go home. The light had dimmed over the afternoon, engulfing the office in a dull atmosphere with drowsy undertones. She was drawing a flower on a piece of parchment when the bell chimed. She already knew who it was.

He gave her a small smile and her heart fluttered.

“Here it is. The poor owl lost his way in this storm,” she said, holding his letter. He grabbed it and signed the usual form.

"Are you always this accommodating?" he asked casually.

She felt her cheeks heat at the question as she cleared her desk. "It's my job."

"Do you live far from here?"

She faltered as she was reaching for her coat and cleared her throat.

"Why do you ask?" She followed his gaze to the empty umbrella stand.

"Oh."

“I don’t mind escorting you home, if you’d like,” he said promptly.

Was this actually happening? She was sure she had fantasised about something like this once.

“I wouldn’t want to impose.” This was what she was supposed to say, right?

“I insist.”

She surely wasn’t going to let him change his mind.

“Alright, then.” She smiled coyly as he took her coat from her hands and helped her with it. His hands brushed on her arms in a gesture that was oddly intimate in the fading light of the office. He opened the door for her and waited for her to lock it.

Around them people hurried to get to their destination, but she was in no rush. He offered her his arm and she took it, a little out of breath. She hid her hand in the crook of his elbow, hoping it would not betray her nervousness and gently guided him in the right direction.

“How was your day?” he asked after a few steps, just as nonchalantly as before.

“It was good, perhaps a little boring.”

“Do you enjoy working at the post office?” He turned his head, watching her with those rich eyes of his.

She shrugged lightly. “It’s better than other jobs, and I like my colleague.”

“I met him the other day. You weren’t there when I went to post my letter,” he explained in response to her surprised look.

“Oh yes, it was my free afternoon.” She couldn’t believe Will hadn’t told her about this.

Tom nodded as if it was a fact he wanted to remember.

“Do you like your job?” she asked, greedy for anything he wanted to share with her.

“It might seem strange but I do.”

“Where do you work exactly?” Not even Will had been able to tell her what it was that he did.

“Borgin and Burkes.”

“The antique shop?”

He chuckled. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

She mirrored his grin. “How would you describe it?”

“You can call it that if you’re into cursed music boxes and a wide selection of skulls.”

“Perhaps I am,” she replied foxily. “I’ll come and take a look one day.”

“Are you?” The inflection in his voice told her he didn’t quite believe her.

“You don’t really know me, Tom.”

As her words were met with silence, she turned to him. She had never seen him look at her like that, his lips slightly curved and his eyes glinting with intrigue.

“So I gather Diagon Alley wasn’t in your ambitions?” he asked after a while. He must have seen her discomfort at his question because he immediately apologised.

“Don’t, please.” She put her free hand on his arm before registering what she was doing and he followed her motion as she composedly dropped it.

“You’re right,” she said with a sigh, averting her eyes. “I don’t know what I expected from the future.”

“But?”

“But I suppose it could be worse.” That’s it, that’s all she had to say. No big dream everyone required her to have.

“You could make it better, you have endless possibilities to choose from.” He sounded so sure, but of course he was. He had the world in his palm and he could change the course of existence at every moment.

She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think that’s true.”

She steered him to the right to cross the street. They were now out of Diagon Alley, walking through the small inhabited island that separated Muggle London from the commercial area. He rested his arm on her back and respectfully pushed her away from the street, switching their places. She pretended it didn’t affect her.

“You could have had any job after graduation,” she pointed out.

“I chose the one that I believed would give me more benefits.”

“Did you choose correctly?”

He smirked. “I did.”

She wanted to ask more but didn’t dare and a comfortable silence fell between them.

She noticed Tom was extremely careful and observant. He tilted the umbrella to the perfect angle to shield her completely and moved to the side every time she needed to sidestep a puddle.

It was the first time she had had the opportunity to be close enough to him. His arm was firm and she could sense his warmth through the layers of his clothes. She thought of how good it would have felt to nestle against him.

It felt like something it wasn’t, an intimate routine, and she soaked in the moment. His body heat, the coarse wool of his coat against her hand, his soft breath, the pumping of her enamoured heart, the swaying movement of their figures as they walked, the raindrops hitting the asphalt.

She wanted to drown in it.

“We are almost there,” she announced, sadly noticing they were nearing her neighbourhood.

“Do you live alone?”

She nodded. “I used to have a roommate but then I moved to a smaller apartment. I enjoyed the quiet more.”

“I suppose you don’t have a lot of guests, then.”

“Will comes for lunch sometimes, he’s also alone.”

“And your other friends?”

She hid her surprise at his question. She didn’t expect him to remember any details about her.

“I hardly see them nowadays, we kinda lost touch over the years.” There was a soreness that couldn’t quite go away everytime she thought of the companions she drifted away from. No matter how hard she had tried to fight against the currents, there had been an insurmountable wave between them. Everyone said it inevitably happened with age, but no one ever talked about the solitude that it brought with it.

His finger grazed against her wrist, capturing her attention.

“Being alone isn’t always a curse,” he murmured.

“Are you alone?” She couldn’t remember a day when he wasn’t surrounded by his friends or admirers. She had always considered he enjoyed the attention of people hanging from his lips, but perhaps she had judged him wrongly. “Or do you still see your friend sometimes?”

His expression was clever as he answered. “The two things can coexist.”

She looked at him, ardently wishing she could figure him out. It was her torment, never quite managing to step into his field of attraction long enough to decode him, forever relegated to a bystander. Why was he telling her that? Why was he there with her?

His profound eyes searched for something and the idea of being just as incomprehensible to him made her shiver.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

She fiddled with the sleeve of her coat. "I'm fine. We are almost there."

They walked the last few metres to her front door and stopped in front of a set of stairs.

"Thank you for accompanying me." She didn't mention she could have easily apparated.

"Don't mention it."

She made to step away from him but he hesitated to let go of her arm, his fingers lingering over her skin. She watched as he raised his hand to her face, tenderly brushing a loose strand away from her face, curling it with his finger.

"Thank you," she said, her voice breathy.

His hand dropped and he stepped back. She didn't want him to go.

"Do you want to come in?"

She only processed what she had said after the words had left her mouth. Was she being improper? It was pouring and he had made her the courtesy of walking her home. The least she could do was to invite him in, it was a display of gracious manners.

If she was worried he might have misinterpreted, he instead looked unperturbed.

"I think it is best if I get back. It's getting quite late."

She didn't show her disappointment. "Of course. Have a good evening."

He returned her wish and waited until she unlocked her front door before leaving.

Within the cosiness of her home, she spent all night thinking about him. She replayed her whole afternoon while she was sitting in the bathtub, brushing her hair, making dinner. His feathery touch lingered like a phantom hand, the memory of his gaze followed her in everything she did, and, as she laid in bed, the ache of his rejection - that she knew to be insignificant - turned into fear she had ruined everything, a creature threatening to devour her as her mind grew tired and the night grew darker, the ticking of the clock an incessant reminder of everything she could crave but never have.

She looked at the dangling sign, the golden letters carved into dark wood, and entered the shop trying not to look at the stuffed fox by the entrance.

The interior was just as sinister. She ignored an undoubtedly haunted portrait and passed in front of an array of body parts she was sure had belonged to Frankenstein at one point.

“Those are for the more eccentric customers,” Tom said, coming out of the backroom and spooking her.

“I’m not going to ask what they need them for,” she replied with a nervous laugh.

He stopped to take something from a shelf and showed it to her. “I think you’ll like this more.”

It was a wooden cube with a glass surface on the top. Inside there was a simple maze and a small marble. She took it and tilted it to the side, trying to make the ball roll forward. The light reflected on the glass and when she looked again the puzzle was different and the marble was in the opposite angle. She inclined it a few more times and the maze kept shifting repeatedly.

“How am I supposed to finish this?”

“It is designed to create a sequence. You have to understand the pattern to know where the marble will be everytime and move accordingly.”

“If I don’t go mad first.”

Tom pressed his lips in an amused smile as he took the cube back and placed it on a random shelf.

She lost herself in his mesmerising gaze as he drew closer like a shadow. The tension between them was tauter.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” he said, his voice a smooth whisper.

“I told you I was coming to take a look,” she replied, her lips expertly curling into a sweet smile.

“Is that all?” He stretched his arm to remove a speck of dust on the shelf to her right, enclosing her between his body and a ladder leaning against the bare wall.

She tried to remain poised as she took something out of her purse. “This came for you.”

He took the letter with a frown, turning it in his hands to read who sent it.

“Who writes to you?” She already knew there was no name on the envelope. She wondered how the sender had managed to mail it.

“I’m just as clueless as you are.” He carefully ripped the paper as she stared at him wide-eyed. He read the signature at the bottom of the message and folded it back, putting it in the pocket of his jacket.

Of course he knew, it was obvious she wasn’t able to mind her own business.

“Who do you imagine writing to me?” That captivated gleam lit up his eyes again.

“Malfoy looks like a prolific writer.”

“But Malfoy always signs his letters.”

“Is there someone in your life that prefers to remain a secret?”

She shuddered as he trailed his fingers down her arm, gently holding her wrist. “Like a secret liaison?” he asked.

She swallowed. “Is there anyone?” There was no turning back after this.

His fingers brushed against hers and she let out a small sigh. She didn’t miss his pleased smirk as he stepped forward, her figure moving back until she rested against the wooden rungs of the ladder. They were standing behind a wall that hid them from any peering eyes, concealed by the shadow’s silhouette.

“Perhaps there is,” he murmured, taking her handbag and setting it down. “Perhaps I should reply to her promptly.” He started to slowly unbutton her coat. She could not take her eyes away from him.

“But the fact is, I am not sure what I should tell her.” He locked his eyes with hers and got down on his knees. Her breath hitched in her throat.

She stared down at him, her stomach knotting as a familiar yearning pervaded her. She had thought of him in that position, she had wanted him like this. Her heart was thundering.

“How do I fit in all of this?”

“Perhaps,” he said, holding her calf to push her foot on the first rung, “you could advise me.” She followed his movements until she was propped on the first step and grabbed the ladder, watching him.

“You could start by writing what you like about her,” she suggested. He started massaging her ankles, his hands slowly drawing over her nylon tights from her heel straps to her calves.

“I like her beauty,” he replied with ease, tracing his finger over her seam on the back of her leg.

“I wouldn’t start like that.”

“How so?” He looked amused as his hands reached below the hem of her skirt and he brushed his lips over her knee.

“You will never win her over if she thinks you only appreciate her for her beauty.” Her lips parted as he looked up at her, strikingly handsome, and she ran her fingers through his hair, feeling the texture of his curls. They were softer than she had expected.

“What should I tell her, then?”

“Do you see her often?”

“Not as often as I’d like.”

“You could mention the small details of her person that you miss.” He languidly pushed up the fabric of her skirt, exposing her tights.

“Like what?”

“Like the way she does her hair or how she holds her quill as she writes. Or something that made you think of her.”

“You do like the details,” he muttered, more to himself than her, looking transfixed as he hooked his finger into the band of her stockings, giving her the physical contact she had painfully craved.

“What about her intelligence?”

She nodded and tried to swallow but her throat was parched. “That too. Are you impressed by her?”

“I am. She looks remarkable.”

“Could she rival you?”

He smirked and undid her garter, tugging the nylon partially down. “I’m waiting to find out.” He pressed his lips onto her skin, kissing her bare leg. She brought her head back against the hard rung, letting out a whimper she didn’t want to contain.

His lips were slightly chapped from the cold weather but his breath was warm as he left a trail of open-mouthed kisses all over her scorching skin. Her hand found his hair again, pulling it as sweet breathy sounds came from her lips.

He focused his attention on her other thigh, digging his fingers into her flesh like a starving man and pressing his mouth harder into her skin.

She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. There was so much she wanted now. It was urging, impossible to ignore. She was looking down the edge of the precipice, unable to tear the gaze away from the looming danger. Someone was behind her threatening to push her. She was sure it was Tom.

As he kissed the inside of her thigh she felt the need to tug his head further up. He was hers for a moment, one secret moment, surrounded by a still silence that could not betray them.

He grazed his teeth over the sensitive spot and bit softly, hiking up her skirt and her suspender belt with an urgent motion. She gripped his hair tighter, ready to lead him where they clearly both wanted to be.

She shifted her weight, the wetness between her legs so pressing it was becoming uncomfortable.

“Tom,” she breathed as his hand gripped her waist and his lips reached right under the crease of her tight.

“Tell me what you desire the most,” he murmured, bending her knee and putting her foot one rung up to gain better access.

You.

She couldn’t tell him that. She would have never told him that, yet she was sure he already knew. Perhaps he had always known, and he had savoured each furtive glance and each stolen detail preparing for this moment.

The thought was less mortifying than expected.

“Right now I just want-”

The bell chimed, followed by the creaking of the door opening. Tom immediately got up, letting go of her leg and concealing her with his figure until she made herself decent again. Then he scurried to assist the new customer.

She collected herself and pretended to scour the shelves for a while, waiting for the flush on her cheeks to fade and for her heart to slow down. Tom’s eyes met hers as she left, carrying anticipation and a promise.

As her hands dipped between her legs that night, she wondered if he was doing the same.

Afterwards, questions crowded her restless night. Had he always known what their encounters were going to lead up to or was he just as surprised?

He had been hers for one long burning moment. She yearned to touch him again and she knew he desidered the same, to protract those flames until skin glowed and flesh smoked, until he could squeeze her beating organ. But how long was it going to last until he decided to crush it?

sorry for the cockblocking.

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