"You know how to ball, I know Aristotle" - (tom riddle x fem!reader)
Summary: Tom finds himself harbouring a small crush on the Slytherin Chaser.
Warnings: None, just pure fluff. As always, not proofread, so apologies for any mistakes.
A/N: First post in months, hi, hello, I'm alive!!! This one is heavily inspired by the lyrics "you know how to ball, I know Aristotle" from so high school by taylor swift (obviously). And we all know Tom is the nerd in any scenario.
The players soared through the azure sky, their movements orchestrated with precision and grace as the game began. Quidditch had never held any allure for Tom; he deemed it brutish and an unworthy diversion from his personal pursuits. After all, he would rather spend his hours on research to further his magical skills, become the most powerful wizard of all time and accomplish his one ultimate life ambitions.
Yet he had been dragged to the game by his persistent, relentless Knights. Half of them had already taken to the field, while the remainder bellowed raucous cheers from the stands. That is, if one could call creative chants being hurled at the Gryffindor team cheering.
With a disdainful curl of his lip, Tom reached for the book nestled at his side, fully intending to pass the time by reading. Yet, before he could even read a word, a chorus of gasps pierced the air, followed by a rush of wind that tousled his dark locks. Startled, he glanced skyward, just in time to witness one of the Chasers of his house team swooping gracefully to intercept the Quaffle hurtling towards an unsuspecting bystander behind him.
She shot a cheeky smirk at whoever she had just saved before gliding away. Something within Tom stirred—an unexpected surge of fascination seized hold of his senses and he found himself tracking her every movement with a newfound intensity. For a moment his scholarly mind analysed her movements with the same meticulous scrutiny he applied to his studies. She moved with a fluidity that seemed to defy the laws of gravity, her every manoeuvre executed with a finesse that demanded attention.
As her lithe form weaved through the chaos of the game, Tom couldn't help but lean forward to pay attention to the game. He was transfixed, his gaze glued on her as she scored a goal after goal.
"See! I told you Quidditch was fun!" Orion Black exclaimed from next to him, hand moving to pat Tom on his back before realising who he was speaking to and forgoing the action all together.
Tom did not bother acknowledging the boy.
The game came to an end as the Slytherin Seeker deftly caught the snitch after a particularly intense dive, and soon enough the entire crowd of students were rushing to congratulate the victorious team. Just like that, Tom was snapped out of his daze. He gathered his belongings and decided to leave.
The party in honour of the Slytherin team was in in full swing by the time Tom set foot in the common room. He cursed under his breath as he navigated the crowded space, desperate to retreat to his dormitory and escape the chaos that engulfed the room.
Pushing his way through the throng, he passed by the large emerald couch when his eyes caught sight of her. She sat with her friends in a small circle, an amused smirk playing on her lips. The boisterous energy of the celebration seemed to ripple around her. Tom's ears perked up as someone called her name, attempting to draw her attention. He quickly noted the name, etching it into his mind with the same precision he used for memorizing spells.
She waved a hand in dismissal. "I'm good."
"Oh come on! It is not fair for you to give out the most ridiculous dares then run away when it's your turn. Come on, don't be a coward!" Her friend goaded.
"Perhaps if I were a Gryffindor I would be insulted." she replied with a shrug. Despite her nonchalance, her friends’ uproarious protest began to wear down her resolve. Tom could see the determination flicker in her eyes before she finally relented. "Okay, fine! I will play this once!"
Tom resisted the urge to scoff at the ridiculously childish game they were partaking in. He should have left right then, but he could not deny that something tugged at his curiosity despite his best efforts to remain aloof.
"What happened to you were not a Gryffindor?"
"I'm just trying to determine if I would be a lousy one or not."
Her friend’s eyes narrowed in thought, clearly plotting the perfect dare. Tom was about to move away when her friend's eyes landed on him, and he saw them sparkle in mischief. He was quick to turn away, pretending he could not hear them.
Just as the girl was announce the dare, a couple crashed into him in their impatience to get through, fingers weaved together, jostling Tom and forcing him to step aside. He grimaced as they hurried past, clearly headed for the dorm rooms. When he turned his attention back to the group, he noticed with a start that the girl had disappeared.
Trying ignore the bizarre pit of disappointment in his stomach, he turned on his heel to head up to his room for the night. He had already lingered more than enough. Just as he turned, another figure crashed straight into his chest. With a string of colourful curses under his breath, he automatically grabbed to steady the person. Tom had lost all his patience, and he was about to snap with something mean when his gaze landed on the Slytherin Chaser.
Whatever sharp words he’d been preparing evaporated in an instant. His focus shifted entirely to the pair of wide, doe-like eyes staring up at him innocently. Too innocently. His instincts told him it spelled trouble.
"Oh, Riddle! I'm sorry, I tripped over my own feet." She said with a sheepish smile, a feigned apology dancing on her lips. Tom narrowed his eyes. She was an athlete, her entire existence on the pitch was defined by her precision and grace. He knew well enough she wasn’t the type to stumble over her own feet.
He opened his mouth to retort but she beat him to it. "Did you watch the game today?"
"Yes," he responded curtly, his gaze never leaving hers, trying to decipher her game.
"Really? I thought you never attended the games. Well, what did you think of it?"
The corner of Tom's lip curled as he replied. "First and last time. Your Quaffle almost disfigured my face."
She raised a brow. "No, the ball almost disfigured Adrian. Your charming smile was in no danger, I assure you."
"My charming smile, yeah?"
A delicate blush crept up her cheeks, turning them a pretty shade of pink under his teasing gaze that she was trying—and failing—to conceal. Tom felt a wave of smug satisfaction at the reaction he had drawn from her. Slowly, he twirled his wand between his long fingers, savoring the moment, letting the tension simmer in the air between them. His movements were slow, deliberate, before he lifted her chin ever so slightly with the tip of the wand, the cool wood brushing against her skin.
"Well, in any case, congratulations on your victory," he murmured, his voice low as he held her gaze firmly in his. "Disfigured smile or not." Then, with the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, Tom broke away to walk past her, heading toward the dormitory.
He was halfway across the common room when a sudden shout rang out amidst the loud crowd.
"Tom!" Her voice rang out, and just as he was about to glance over his shoulder, a hand reached out and grabbed his wrist, turning him around with unexpected force. His brows knit in confusion as he looked down at her, words forming in his mind but never reaching his lips. Before he could react, her arms were around his neck, pulling him down in one swift motion. Her lips crashed against his, bold and unapologetic, her kiss catching him entirely off guard.
Tom stood frozen, momentarily stunned, every thought, every calculated plan vanishing in the instant their lips met. For a man who prided himself on control, it was the first time in a long while that he felt completely unmoored. The kiss, with its suddenness and intensity, left him reeling in ways he hadn't deemed possible.
He tuned out the instant cheers and whistles breaking out in a wave of noise at the display, his thoughts consumed only by the soft lips moving over his own.
But the moment was over a moment far too soon. her breath uneven, eyes gleaming with nerves. Tom’s heart, which had betrayed him for just a moment, slowly began to settle back into its steady rhythm.
She bit her lip, a sly smile forming as she met his gaze again. "Sorry… I was dared to do that," she said, almost apologetically.
Tom’s expression didn’t falter, but a flicker of irritation crossed his mind. The kiss, the boldness—it had not been her choice. “Of course,” he replied coolly, his voice measured as he ran a hand through his hair. "A dare.”
She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, Tom leaned in just enough to let his words hang in the air between them, lips brushing against her cheek, his voice low and filled with a subtle challenge. “Then… I dare you,” he began, his gaze locked on hers with a teasing intensity, “to do it again.”
He smirked as her eyes widened, clearly caught off guard by his response. Her gaze flickered to his lips for just a second before she pulled back, her smirk widening. "Careful what you wish for, Tom. You might regret it.”
"Only if it results in your Quaffle flying at my face again."
"If you refrain from reading your book at my game, I promise to keep it away from your vicinity next time." She rolled her eyes, but before either of them could speak again, she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him again, this time softer, slower, the lingering laughter fading into something sweeter.
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