slytherin boys react

tom riddle: being out in the rain with them

you notice him pausing, eyeing the downpour outside with clear reluctance. the path you're both supposed to take is slick with rain, and he looks as though he'd rather wait it out. but you're not about to let a little rain stop you. "come on," you urge, tugging on his sleeve.

he sighs, already loosening his grip on the door. "we don't have to get drenched," he says, shrugging off his jacket. "you can use this as cover."

but instead of taking it, you grin and shake your head, grabbing his hand. "no need." without warning, you pull him outside with you, straight into the rain.

the cold droplets hit you instantly, soaking through your clothes as the rain pours down. for a moment, he stiffens, caught off guard by the sudden rush of water. but then something shifts, his usual stoic expression softens, the corners of his mouth lifting ever so slightly as he lets out a breath he's been holding. "madness," he mutters, though there's a trace of amusement in his voice.

as he looks at you, wet hair plastered to your forehead, a laugh escapes your lips. it's a sound he hasn't heard before, a carefree expression of joy. it throws him off, sending a strange tug through his heart.

he stares for a moment longer, watching the rain stream down your face and your shoulders shake with laughter. then, before he can stop himself, he finds himself pulling you closer. his hands on your shoulders, his fingers sliding down your arms, he pulls you beneath his jacket.

it's an unbidden act, born from some foreign emotion he doesn't entirely grasp. but as he pulls you in, shielding you from the rain, he can't help but notice how perfectly you fit under his arm, as though you were meant to be there all along. "you're cold," he states, as if excusing his actions to pull you close.

you tilt your head up to look at him, and his breath catches in his throat at the sight. "no, i'm not," you chuckle.

the rain droplets clinging to your eyelashes make your eyes sparkle, and the corners of your lips are still tipped up in a small smile. he finds himself wanting to capture those lips with his own, to taste the raindrops that still cling to them.

it's a terrifying thought, a desire he's never felt before. it sends his heart racing, even as he swallows hard to push it down. "you will be," he says, the words coming out a little hoarse. he reaches up, brushing the wet hair off your forehead with a gentle touch, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

you lean into his touch, and he can feel his heart slamming in his chest. "but then you'll just have to warm me," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

it's suddenly hard to think, his mind swirling with confusion, longing, desire, and a hundred other emotions he can't even begin to name.

he wants to pull away, to put some distance between you. but instead, he finds himself moving closer, tilting his head down toward yours. his eyes flit to your lips, the raindrops still glistening there, and a thousand questions race through his mind. would you taste as sweet as you look? is he really going to let himself act on these desires?

he tilts your chin up, his thumb gently tracing your bottom lip. his mouth opens as he searches for the right words, anything to capture what he's feeling. finally, he whispers, "you'll be my undoing."