Hogwarts: a school of Witchcraft and Love (Tom Marvolo Riddle x F!reader)

Sixth year: chapter 6

In the past, you've laughed so hard you've lost control of your muscles, but this was the first time the opposite seemed true. You were so mad that you felt every muscle and cell inside of you, twitch with aggravation.

„You should be happy you can go. I won't get to come this year. Mum and dad say they don't want me to. Usually they let me do anything because I'm a good kid, but with the way things are in the school and with the dangerous things that are happening, they don't want me to go there."

Reading the letter you felt a twinge of envy for Will's relationship with his parents, having precisely zero memories of yours. You'd do anything for even a fragment of a female humming a lullaby quietly with you in their arms, and a warm kind of smell paired along with it. Yet the only other person that supposedly loved you killed the opportunity before you even had a chance to make this dream reality.

So Will was lucky to have them worry about him like that-luckier to be able to hug them after presenting them with an Exceeds Expectations report card.

But then the envy passed. Lucky? They were trying to seperate him from his education! From his other family! Trying to separate him from you!

What good are parents...? You smiled-sharp edges and numbed anger and hurt at the devil on your shoulder taking on the speaker's voice. Once you'd given in to the anger, it went faster than you'd expected. Writing a replying letter done and over in moments, with a little ache in your chest hours after sending it by owl, being the only thing to say you had lapsed to hatred at all.

But who could blame you? You already lost two best friends, you'd be damned if you lost the third too... To return to the endless loop of sobbing and unwanted, unproductive feelings of missing.

It hardly even dawned on you that Will had even more reasons than most other students to spend more time with his mum and dad. It was well known that the Diggory's were much involved with Muggle lives. Not many took kindly to that, and because of it they had been punished multiple times by Pureblood extremists for their liberal views and lifestyles.

Whenever oblivious jerks at Hogwarts told him that he was a dirty mudblood, it hurt, yes. But at this moment in time your throat closed up and you lost the strength to correct them on the increasingly many times it happened, so you'd walk away instead.

Gahhh stupid hormones! Stupid Will's parents! Stupid EVERYTHING! If you had your way, then... Then-!

One spell. Ten spells. Twenty-five spells. No matter how many you unleashed, it didn't feel like enough. As you did this, pinpricks of red danced on the edge of your vision, lightning quick, flashing into notice but not staying long enough for you to see what they could be from.

It was nothing good, you knew that. Felt that. Perhaps it was an after effect of messing with the Forbidden Arts, maybe you were getting sick. Sounded plausible enough. You had been spending most of your days inside the Manor, barely moving, and then suddenly after the letter, you started spending chilly mornings outside, training harshly on frozen lawns.

You told Tom about the letter, because you told Tom everything. Out of habit. It took some time before you could make yourself look into his direction, let alone say anything to him again after the mind-numbing hell he put you through. Inside you'd been wringing your brain dry for answers for why he did the things he did, but each memory shredded your already fragile psyche just that bit more.