Tom Riddle Imagines

azkaban

The windows rattle as powerful wind passes through, meanwhile thunder strikes the sky in angry swipes. Raindrops tap against every surface it can reach, the roof, the windows and the ground below.

However, my mind is not on the storm. It's not on homework either, nor on the following weekend.

It's filled with thoughts about Tom riddle

And not dreamy thoughts, or even dirty thoughts.

I'm thinking worried thoughts, confused thoughts. I'm wondering why he won't stop terrorizing the school even when I tell him stop.

Does he not want our relationship to last? I've told him every time that I would leave, I would end anything we had between us.

After so many empty promises, I'm fed up. I'm sick of discovering more things he's done. More evil plans he chasing after.

So I pace furiously around my room; recently I discovered he was planning on making horcruxes. He has told me about them before, briefly. I thought it was for research purposes. Since that's what he said.

Then it turns out he wants to make his own, 7 of them.

He's going to regret writing down his every thought in that journal of his.

Now before you decide to blame me, or ask me why the bloody hell I was reading through his diary?

Well, I was curious.

I did wonder if he wrote anything that could imply love. Maybe a love letter, a confession. You're going to ask again, aren't you already in a relationship? Yes. Though, he still hasn't said "I love you" yet.

He uses the "I can't feel love" excuse. I know him too well, he's just petrified of the whole 'feelings' package.

Then I found about his plans, carefully written down on the parchment.

I stop pacing and make a quick decision, I need to confront him once more. I need to end this, this could ruin my future. This could ruin so much. He won't stop for anyone.

I march out of my dorm room, with a set intention to find Tom.

By the time I've checked his dorm, library, multiple classrooms and asked a few people, I'm just quietly fuming and roaming the hallways when I hear a quick high pitched scream.

I stop in my tracks. It was so brief, I could convince myself that I imagined it.

But something tells me not to walk away, to investigate.

I head towards the direction from where the sound echoed from; I notice the door for the girls bathroom is cracked open.

I approach it silently and reach to push it aside. Thankfully it doesn't creak as it falls open.

My brain doesn't register the image I'm seeing. My body just seems to malfunction, my eyes blur, my stomach drops, and my mouth dries.

A gasp escapes me as I back away, I suddenly look up and see Tom.

"No-" I mutter, "-you didn't- tell me you didn't." I stare at him in shock, not noticing the huge hole in the floor where a basilisk slithered down into.

Silence is so deafening and says so much at times; I don't even notice tears leaving my eyes until they're streaks against my cheeks.

"Tom, shit shit shit." I clutch at my stomach.

Myrtle is slumped on the floor, in between the door of a stall. Her skin is so pale, so blue; like there wasn't a drop of blood in her.

Her eyes are wide open, glazed over and white; a foggy look in them. A foggy look of death, of an unoccupied body.