amortentia [ young!tom riddle x reader ]

gloomy days follow.

A light breeze caressed the back of your neck as your fingers dug into the hard red cushion of the seat; your form leaned forward to stare at the blurring scenery behind the window. Outside the compartment children were eagerly chatting, some singing muggle songs and noisily poking in their heads to see who was doing what. The far away rooftops moved like passengers and in the swaying autumn flowers, the last notes of summer were already fading, you saw the delicate arch of your mothers hand as she waved you goodbye. The memory was still fresh and very much conflicted, both sparking fear and excitement in your heart. Finally, London houses blew by and nothing by plains of green greeted the window. You pulled away and shifted, hitting the back of the seat and feeling the whole train pleasantly rubble down your spine. Besides you, there were three more eleven year olds seated – two in front and one by your left. The lonesome boy by your side was reserved, only briefly glancing around and outlining the forms of the two seated in his close view.

He set you off, somehow, spiked what you now would name uncertainty, restlessness, but then, in 1938, those complex feelings boiled down into one much clearer emotion – fear. And so you kept your distance, not too close, yet not too far. Mother always said that manners were most important and distancing yourself completely would surely displease her.

Suddenly, the two boys in front jumped up, sprinting to the compartments door and sticking their noses up to the glass, "No way!" one awed. Whispers riddled the wagon and you tilted your head upwards in a curious manner to see what all this commotion was about. Quickly though your questions were answered, "It's Scamander!"

"You mean THE Scamander?" The other hissed, "But...What about New York?!"

You lost interest quicker than a chocolate frog leaped to freedom, and glancing down you continued to sit in silence.

"...Scamander?" The voice was low rasp and unfamiliar. You blinked owlishly, turning to your side and taken aback for a moment you blindly stared at the once quiet boy that sat beside you. It was his first words ever said in your presence. Now that you got a closer look at him, you realized why he put you off – his was pale, as if sunlight was one thing he did not fancy and preferred to sit inside all day; you trailed the outline of his clothing, catching a few loose seams and harsh fabric around the shoulders – they were not new, you realized, invartedly glancing down at your long polished skirt; his tar black hair laid in strands and was neatly styled and parted in the middle, but what captured you were his eyes, those evergreen glimmering irises that seemed the only thing remotely alive in him. You recalled a story with moving pictures you once read, it showing the very depths of the mysterious ocean where no living soul dared to venture. Again, you found yourself uneasy and when those eyes connected with your own you promptly looked away.

The question, albeit receiving no answer from you, was met with a light scoff from one of the two standing boys. "Scamander. The child of the most talented wizards in the world?" There was certain bitterness as the boy spoke and a certain glint in his eye that did not indicate empathy, "You mean to tell me you have never heard of them?"

"Do you like under a rock, or somethin'?" The other bugged in. You swallowed thickly to keep your mouth shut. The taunts continued.

"Leave him alone." You finally snapped, your cheeks flaring red once all eyes landed on you, "What is it to you if he knows of the name or not? Go pick on someone else if you are so eager." A pause, "Well? Go!" Perhaps it was your harsh tone that prompted them into action, perhaps there was another reason, but with one last frown the two slid the compartments door open and left without any words exchanged. The door clicked shut. Silence engulfed the two of you again.

"...Thank you." Despite the genuine tone of his voice there was a note that seemed off, though how or why you could not tell. Instead you smiled shyly and bobbed your head.

" Do not mind them...they fancy causing a ruckus, I can tell... I am (Name) (Lastname), by the way." You introduced, "...Pleasure." You extended your hand for him to shake. For a moment all he could do was examine your small hand, as if contemplating should he touch it or not. Lastly, he hooked his fingers around yours.

"Tom. Tom Riddle."

1943

Rain poured. The windows were tinted dark with black clouds. The small room was drowning in hot fumes that stroke heat to your cheeks, and accompanied by the whiff of coffee and an occasional rosy flash of colour it almost appeared the classroom was going vertigo. Light drumming of cold rain reached your ears, but what melody it was singing you could not tell – no one could bear to keep their mouth shut in Divination.

A hard nudge on your shoulder and your head slipped from your hand, lazily you threw a glance at your best friend sitting beside you with a bright grin gracing her lips, "Did you see?" She most likely repeated the question, you could not recall her ever asking but she most definitely did, and wordless you swept the classroom to find what she was referring to. Seeing you at a loss, Katherine leaned in, crossing her arms over the small table, "Over there, by the fire..." directly across from you on the other side of the class sat a few more tables and each was full. By the big fireplace sat the Slytherin house, their crystal balls emitting a bleak pink light. A few more closed cards and books were cluttering what little space was left. Your eyes hopped through familiar faces until you stopped, recognising one in particular.

"...Tom?" You questioned, turning to her. "Tom Riddle?"

Kat nodded, her dark brown curls bouncing around her sun kissed face. She bit her lower lip and whispered, "He was looking at you again. In that wistful way he does...Oh, you are so lucky, (Name)!"

"He was not." You told, turning to face him. The pale light from the crystal shone on his face and it appeared ever more ghostly; peering closely you caught a note of a smile on his lips, though he reserved from chatting. You faltered. "He has no reason to. We only met once and a long time ago..." You added. You could feel Katherine roll her eyes, and with a curt sigh the shorter girl leaned out and crossed her legs behind the table, softly hitting you in the process.

"Would you please, for once, daydream a little?" despite the bite in her voice you knew she jested. Her face turned soft, along with her tone, "If only he spared such longing glances at me, oh...! Is he not dreamy? Please, at least admit to as much!" Not once did you take your eyes off him. To be fair, once he caught ones attention it was hard to pull away. Tom laughed.

"Dreamy? Yes, but..." You murmured, "Can you not feel it?"

"Feel what? My heart about to burst when he is near?"

You cracked a smile, "No, not that...It is just...something about him...something different." You glanced at her, "Would you not agree?" Katherine's expression turned thoughtful and after a brief pause she nodded.

"Oh yes, completely different..." She fell back into her dream like state, "He is most perfect, isn't he? Tom...Tom Riddle...Kat Riddle? How does it sound, (Name)?"

"Like you belong in a loony bin, now please, before someone overhears us..." And perhaps someone did, for when you sneaked a glance in his direction he was already looking. Tom Riddle was grinning, still focused on whatever Cornelio Chavarone was telling, his joy fixed in time, no doubt after a funny joke one of his close friends has said. Now you were positive he was looking – your eyes connected, the only thing truly clear through the curtain of fumes being his magnificent green irises that halted all thoughts you had prior. You offered him a shy smile before pulling away.

"A debby downer, you are." Katherine mumbled, missing this small exchange and returning to ogle at the depths of her tea cup, "Just you wait, though." She raised a challenging brow, "I will have him confessing his love to me in no time."

"Are you sure it is not the other way around?" You asked playfully.

"Oh, sod off!"