Princess - A Tom Riddle Fan Fiction

Chapter 9

He doesn't forgive but is admirably good at forgetting.

--

He hasn't spoke to me in a 3 weeks.

I mean, sure Tom tutors me, but I don't feel like it's him. His sentences are short and, even if he's criticizing me, he doesn't sound like he means it. Everything he says is monotone and, honestly, doesn't scratch the surface of my anger. Right after every session he leaves without a word and I don't see him for the rest of the day. I'm going to be honest and say I don't go out of my way to talk with him. And even with Lorraine, Harvey, Ember, and Averi I always feel a pang of loneliness. At first I avoided the feeling. I was used to it way before Hogwarts so I passed it off as muggle studies reminding me of my old life. I'm not saying Tom Riddle is my friend, god no, but he was there. And now he's not. I just haven't gotten used to it.

I walk into the library to return a book on amortentia. Even though we're not supposed to be making to potion for a month or so but Slughorn wants us to start reading up on it. I slip the gold cover back into the book's rightful place on the shelf when I hear a muffled groan come from behind me. I ignore it and search for another book. My stomach flips as cold, long fingers grip my shoulder.

My breath hitches in my throat and it takes a second for me to gain my usual irritability back. I harden my gaze and turn my head over my left shoulder to see the strikingly gorgeous Tom Riddle staring down at me. He doesn't smirk, or even make a snarky comment. He just stares me down with a twinge of annoyance clear on his face.

"'excuse me." His voice is barely audible as he lightly pushes me over to the side. I'm surprised at how gently his shove was when his grip is no doubt starting to imprint itself in my shoulder. His eyes quickly leave me as he puts his book back into its place. The cover of his second book flashes in my sight but he quickly hides it behind his back. He's too late though, I saw the cover.

The Secrets of the Darkest Art

The title alone gives me an unsettling feeling but the way Tom hid it, tells me his intentions aren't good. He turns away with a slight nod but this was too much for me to let it slide by.

(TW: Abuse)

"Riddle?" My voice quivers and I inwardly curse at myself. This was Tom Riddle, I faced meaner and more powerful muggles than him.

He instantly turns back the second my thought finishes. Anger flashing on his face. He throws the book onto the table and grabs my throat, pushing me up against the bookshelf. His face is a deep shade of red and inches from mine. There's no sign of him stopping soon and my breath isn't coming out or in anymore. I grab a book that's right underneath my hand. It's hard cover and thick so if I put enough strength behind it I could, at least, get him to let go. I take the book in my right hand and swing, hitting him in the jaw. He lets go clutching his jaw and staggering back into the table behind him. 

(End of TW)

"You...are...so...fucking...insane," I heave out. I lower myself onto the floor, taking a look at the book I hit him with. I stifle a laugh.

How ironic. It was the next amortentia book I was going to check out. This potion textbook literally saved my life.

Tom's still in front of me, not near as winded and hurt as I am. His figure stalks over me and I can't help but feel alone in this small narrow section of the library.

"Don't even think about that again. Trust me, I'll know," he seethes. I can feel his eyes on me but I don't meet them.

"How'd you do it?" I say, surprising myself along with him. My breath doesn't even out and he notices, taking another step towards me.

"Why do you want to know?" his voice lowers into a hiss, "princess." That nickname is going to be the death of me.

"Just fucking tell me, you owe me that," I struggle to keep myself contained. I'm too exhausted to lash out and he's insanely angry right now.

"I put my hand around your-" He mocks and I gain my strength to stand up.

I look him in the eyes and let out a disappointed sigh. He doesn't look sorry. Not for what's he done or what he plans to do; and that's painfully obvious.

"Don't do that now. How did you read my mind?" I lower my voice to a whisper, trying to get under his skin.

He searches my eyes for a fleeting second before tightening his jaw, "I've always been able to do that. I know every little thought that runs through your mind."

My eyes stay trapped on his lips as he say this. His voice truly does match his looks; full of evil and beauty.

"Every little thought, princess," he repeats and I come to the horrible reality I'm facing. He knows what I did and how they treated me... and he doesn't care. He, in some sickening way, supports what they wanted.

My breath quickens, an awful jump from where I was before, and I can't help myself. 

"Fuck you, Riddle. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you," I hit his chest, my eyes teary and he gently tries, and fails, to grab my arms. I doubt it hurts, it must just be annoying.

"You're so fucking strong, Riddle," I mock, "So kill me and prove that point you're trying so hard to make. Prove it to yourself since you're so insecure. Prove it knowing I hate you. Watch the life drain out of me knowing I hate you. I hate you so fucking much."

He finally grabs my wrists, pushing me against the bookshelf, "you'll never hate me."

My eyes narrow and I scowl and try to loosen his grip on my wrists, "I do. I hate you, Tom Riddle."

He leans his head closer to me, our lips could almost brush if I tilt my head a little further. Why am I thinking about this? I need to get out of this library. He moves one hand to my chin, forcing me to face him. As I stare at his face, I become so much more aware. His breath his hot against me and he smells of pine and sage. It's calming. I'm able to slow my breath and force my eyes to meet his. His grey eyes bore into mine, finding ways to my soul. To my feelings. To everything I had and couldn't bare to lose.

"Stop, Tom," I whimper. I'm done, I can't do anything to him and I'll accept it for now. I just need him to look away.

"You don't hate me," he commands, "you told me you never could."

"I lied," I whisper. I take a two second longer blink, seeing if my eyes can move. They don't.

Hurt flashes over his face, "okay."

He lets go of me, staring for one more second before he spins around, grabs his book and leaves me alone in the musty room. 

No goodbye again, father, just like you.