Dreams of Dark Obsession - Tom Riddle

part seven

The air in the castle was still, almost suffocating in its silence as Y/N slipped out of her dormitory and into the darkened corridors. The dream clung to her mind like a fog, the vivid images of Tom's hands, his lips, the weight of his words pressing down on her with an unbearable intensity. She couldn't shake the feeling that the dream had been more than just a product of her own mind—that somehow, impossibly, Tom had been in her head. And she needed answers.

Her steps were quiet against the stone floor, her heart pounding in her chest as she moved deeper into the castle, her destination clear in her mind. She didn't know where she would find him—perhaps in the Slytherin common room or hidden away in one of his secret haunts—but she knew she had to try. She had to know if what she had felt in the dream had been real or just some twisted fantasy conjured by her own subconscious.

Y/N's mind raced as she wound through the familiar passages of Hogwarts, her thoughts consumed by Tom. Why was he so sure of them? Why was he so certain that their paths were intertwined, that her resistance was nothing more than a temporary obstacle to be overcome? And, most pressing of all, how had he gotten inside her mind?

Finally, after what felt like hours of searching, she found herself standing outside the door to the Room of Requirement. It had always been a place of secrets, a room that gave the seeker exactly what they needed. Her heart hammered in her chest as she hesitated for a moment, wondering if this was the right choice. But the pull was too strong. She had to know.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N stepped forward, and the door creaked open as if it had been waiting for her. The room beyond was dimly lit, the air thick with an almost tangible energy that made her skin prickle. And there, standing by the fire, his tall figure cast in shadows, was Tom Riddle.

He turned slowly, his sharp features illuminated by the flickering flames, his icy blue eyes locking onto hers with a gaze that sent a shiver down her spine. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence heavy and charged with something unsaid. Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her pulse quickening as she stood frozen in place, unsure of what to say now that she was face to face with him.

Tom took a step toward her, his movements slow and deliberate, his expression unreadable. "Y/N," he said, his voice low and smooth, like velvet over steel. "I wasn't expecting you."

"Of course you weren't," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady, though it trembled slightly. "But I need answers, Tom. I need to know... was it you? Was it really you in my dream?"

His smile was subtle, almost amused, as if he had expected this question all along. "Does that surprise you?" he asked softly, his eyes glinting with something dark and knowing. "You and I are connected, Y/N. More deeply than you realize. It was only a matter of time before you began to feel it."

Y/N's fists clenched at her sides, frustration bubbling up inside her. "Stop speaking in riddles," she snapped, stepping closer, her anger pushing aside her fear. "I want to know how. How are you in my head? What are you doing to me?"

Tom's expression shifted slightly, a flicker of something colder crossing his features, but he didn't seem fazed by her anger. Instead, he stepped forward, closing the distance between them until he was mere inches from her, his presence overwhelming. He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against her temple, and she felt a strange, tingling sensation where he touched her, like a thread connecting their minds.

"I've told you before," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, "you and I are inevitable. Our fates are intertwined. I've simply... accelerated the process. What you experienced in the dream—it was more than a dream. It was a glimpse of what's to come."

Y/N recoiled slightly, her eyes narrowing. "That's not an answer," she said sharply, though her voice wavered. "You're in my head. You're manipulating me."

Tom's smile widened, though it held no warmth. "I'm not manipulating you, Y/N. I'm simply revealing the truth. You've felt it yourself—the pull between us, the way your thoughts stray toward me even when you try to resist. That's not manipulation. It's destiny."

She shook her head, stepping back from him, her mind racing. "Destiny? No, this... this isn't right. You've done something to me. You've... you've used magic."

Tom's gaze darkened, and he took another step forward, his hand reaching out to gently cup her chin, tilting her face up toward his. "What I've done, Y/N, is allow you to see the truth. You can fight it all you want, but deep down, you know it's real. You felt it in the dream—your desire for me, your need to be close to me. You gave in because that's what you truly want. There's no shame in it. There's power in surrender."

Her breath hitched as his words sank in, the truth of them cutting deep. She had given in, hadn't she? She had wanted him, even in her dream, when she thought no one could see. It was a terrifying realization—because part of her still wanted him now, standing before her, his presence like a force of gravity she couldn't escape.

"I don't want this," she whispered, though even to her own ears, her words sounded uncertain.

Tom's eyes softened, though the predatory gleam never fully left them. "You do," he whispered back, his thumb gently stroking her cheek. "You just haven't accepted it yet. But you will. In time."

Y/N's resolve wavered, her mind a swirl of confusion, fear, and something darker—something dangerously close to desire. She wanted to pull away, to escape his influence, but she found herself rooted to the spot, unable to break free from the intensity of his gaze, the pull of his words.

"Why?" she asked finally, her voice small, almost pleading. "Why are you so sure? Why me?"

Tom's smile softened, but there was no mistaking the hunger in his eyes. "Because I see what you can become, Y/N. I see the darkness in you, the strength, the potential. And I know that together, we could be unstoppable. You're special. You've always been special. And deep down, you know that too."

His words wrapped around her like a spell, sinking deep into her mind. She wanted to deny it, to tell him he was wrong—but a part of her, the part she had tried to bury, whispered that maybe he was right.

Maybe she had always known.

Tom stepped even closer, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "Stop fighting it, Y/N. Stop denying who you are."

Her heart raced, her pulse pounding in her ears as she felt herself teetering on the edge, caught between the desire to flee and the irresistible pull toward him. She had come here for answers, and now that she had them, she wasn't sure what to do.