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Tom Riddle hated absolutely everything. He hated Dumbledore, he hated people who looked down on him, he hated his parents, the fact that he had no one to lean on, someone to support him and encourage his ambitions.
But most of all, Tom hated his loneliness. He wanted to have someone, anyone, to tell them about his plans, his ambitions, or the things that gave him pleasure, not happiness, but pleasure. For him, pleasure was happiness, because that was the furthest his emotions could go in a positive direction; fake happiness.
His gaze was everywhere and nowhere, everything was dark but light, blurred but he could clearly see a strange shape in the corner of his room. It looked like a person in long white robes.
"Who is there?" Tom asked, standing up from the bed, his wand wrapped in the tight grip of his hand.
The thing stepped out of the shadows into the soft light of the lone candle on the desk. An aura shone around the girl, Tom thought he saw an angel, but this one has no wings - they are torn off.
His burning gaze fell on her face, following every detail that made up the white beauty. He liked the way her hair was the blackest black he had ever seen in contrast to her gray, almost white eyes.
"They're looking for me." Her voice sounded like a melody from heaven that made the hairs on his neck stand up.
"You can stay here." He whispered automatically.
Not even a Hellkeeper would risk going into his room.
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T. M. Riddle's memories
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𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙢 ☠︎︎ ᵗᵒᵐ ʳⁱᵈᵈˡᵉ
Roman d'amour𓃠 TᕼIՏ IՏ ᗰOᖇᗴ Tᕼᗩᑎ ᗩ ՏIᑕK ᒪOᐯᗴ ՏTOᖇY 𓃠 ☏︎ Tom Riddle x fem! OC Tom Riddle era Harry Potter universe ☏︎
