tom riddle imagines

13: heated 'debate' (c.c./f.d.)

imagine:
you and tom riddle are rivals, but you end up making out with him after a heated debate.

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just a heads-up; don't expect heavy smut, this isn't exactly what you expect.

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The tension had never been so profound.

The crowd surrounding you and Tom Riddle grew rapidly, consuming the air you and Tom shared in your little circle of space as the Great Hall filled itself with these curious souls. Tom Riddle glared at you, the intensity in his eyes burning through your skin as he meticulously listened to every word you spoke, analysing through them so he could make a fool out of you when he finds an error.

Fortunately, he didn't.

Once again, you were victorious. You stood feet away from him, drawing closer with your arms crossed and a glorious grin growing on your face. He might've been taller than you, but your intelligence certainly peaked beyond his limits. He never ceased to underestimate you, considering he perceived Slytherin students to be more intelligent and ambitious than rest of the houses. Flames ignited behind those deep, vast blue eyes, his waves crashing vigorous as a storm enraged inside him.

You didn't exactly knew what you were getting into, but you figured to enjoy the triumph while it lasted. Deep down, you knew no one who ever outsmarted Tom Riddle, even in a mere, meaningless debate, ever came back feeling the same sense of glory after an hour.

You looked up, gazing at the tall man as you observed his clenched jaws tightening at the sight of you getting closer, and his balled up fists buried in the thin fabric of his dull robe. His anger was clearly visible to everyone, but his wrath-that was something only you could feel. It was almost like he had directed that overwhelming feeling of his wrath towards you using some kind of dark, twisted magic, which blared alarms through your head as you felt a subtle shock rushing through your veins.

"How the fu..." you stammered, a wave of shock and dizziness rushed over you as you lost your balance.

You crashed into the floor, your consciousness collapsing with you as your head began to spin faster and faster. You were losing your sight as faint voices of students chattering sounded more distant, moving further and further away from you. You soon began to look conscious, the last thing you had seen being Tom Riddle's sinister, demented grin.

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"Wake up."

You groaned, an throbbing ache on your head taunting you as you panted tiredly. Sweat dripped down your neck, gradually immersing through your thick cardigan. You couldn't exactly see where you were properly; everything was a blur, but you were too unconscious to be alarmed at that moment.

"Where the fuck am I..." your voice trailed, echoing around you.

"Wh..." you stammered, your breath shaking.

You felt a pair of warm hands rubbing on your arms in comfort, one crawling up to your face to caress your cheeks. "Don't be afraid, darling."

You squinted your eyes, your vision gradually clearing as it revealed the face of the enraged boy you had defeated hours ago.

"Oh for fuck's sake, you're still ma-"

"You know me, Y/N," he sneered, his face drawing closer to yours.

You couldn't comprehend what his intentions were; was he here to kill you, or was it for some other sick reason? A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you gazed around the room-a singular, wooden bed placed by the wall, green drapes drooping from the roof of its frames, books and scribbled parchment paper scattered all around the floor, old books lying on the edge of the bookshelves-and it made you realise something.