Promised - Tom Riddle x reader

Part 3 - Parallels and Potions ★

It was dark in the corridor you found yourself in. So dark, you could hardly see anything but the low light on its end. The light was subtle, yet it pulled you towards it. As you started walking, you noticed you were holding something in your hands. It was oddly shaped, but not too heavy and you couldn't see enough to detect what it was. So you kept on walking towards the light and although it seemed so close, it felt like you had walked for hours on the spot.

Finally, you reached the exit and entered a small room. It was bright all of a sudden and made you squint your eyes. Dozens of chairs were lined up left and right from you, with a path in their midst. The seats were all empty, except for two. Your parents sat in the first row, staring straight ahead, not looking back at you. Another person was standing at the end of the path. Tom. He wore a black suit and tie, his hands intertwined on his back as he watched you walk towards him.

Now that you could finally see, you looked down and were able to recognise what you were wearing. A floor-length, white dress. A wedding dress to be precise, classy and modest, with lace fabric that wrapped around your arms. The thing you had brought with you was a bouquet of flowers. Red roses, each one flawless and beautiful.

Tom smiled as you were slowly approaching him. He turned around and looked at his grandfather, who stood at the podium. The light went out and it was dark again. Someone screamed. Elsie. Her voice echoed in your ears as you turned to find her, stumbling around blindly. You knocked over a chair when the lights went back on and her voice fell silent. She was nowhere to be seen.

Only then you looked around and noticed how Tom's smile had turned into a vile grin. Both your parents were lying on the floor, unmoving. You tried to run to them, but your feet stayed pinned to the ground. The floor was drenched in red. Blood. Everywhere. It was soaking up on the fabric of your dress when Tom threw something your way and it landed in the puddle before you, more splatters of red hitting the white fabric. It was a penknife, dangerously sharp and flipped open.

Hissing noises came from the bouquet in your hands. The roses had turned into snakes. You shrieked and tried to throw it to the ground, but your hand didn't let go of it, no matter how hard you tried. Marvolo's scornful laughter got louder and louder until you couldn't hear anything else and you fell to your knees screaming.

You sat up in your bed, your forehead covered in sweat. A nightmare. Just a dream.