dels 🦇

i lovee this theme but i’m so obsessed with dark academia, london, university aesthetic. keep or change?

New book you’re reading? Giambattista della Porta. Classic.

A routinely study spot? 5-8 P.M., T-F.

Slightly lower exam score? Pathetic.

-

You sit in the shadowed corner of the library. The luminance of the moon lights up your Charms Essay and contrasts with the sombre ink delicately written on your scroll. You lean back in your seat. legs extending out and stretching your awfully stiff arms. Suddenly, a humanoid shadow flashes in your peripheral vision.

“Hello?” You instinctively say, quickly straightening your posture.

An eerie silence engulfs the room, yet the speedy rhythm of your heart beats in your ears. 12 A.M on a Wednesday night is awfully a rare time to be studying.

You apprehensively scanned the room— heart coming to a steady flow when you see Neville sitting at a nearby table.

Fuck. It’s just Neville.

Letting out a breath you unknowingly held in, you slightly laugh to yourself. Neville turns around, a confused look written across his face.

You look up, “Catching butterflies?” You smirk, referencing his hurried shadow you saw previously. An uncomfortable and perplexed look grows on his awkward face, and begins to pack up his things before hurriedly exiting the room.

“Shit”, you resort, perplexed. “I was just joking! I didn’t mind-” You promptly call out— getting cut off by the loud doors of the library.

Terribly confused and exhausted, you let out a deep breath, tiredly laughing into your crossed arms.

……

“Neville, Hm?” Tom mumbles, slightly smirking —while pressed flat against the cold stone right outside the library, chest rising quickly— seemingly out of breath from “catching butterflies”.

༻❁༺

poor, poor neville! genuinely, why is it always him?

—

stalker!tom doesn’t believe in “privacy”. well, when it comes to you— of course.

your reoccurring headache in potions isn’t cause of a bad nights rest, silly. it’s legilimency— did you really think it was just a coincidence how you and all of your friends got headaches at the same time?

it also wasn’t a coincidence how tom riddle miraculously became your new partner, either. slughorn is very easy to persuade— and tom finds himself very persuasive, too.

as much as tom convinces himself his intentions are purely pragmatic, it was never necessary to steal your book, just to give it back.

nor was it when he purposely bumped into you just to see your reaction.

was it casual when he crucioed a random 5th year for accidentally spilling fire whisky on you??

—

oh, stalker!tom, how you would embarrass the shit out of them if they ever even considered you were stalking them.

“Who do you think you are?”

but then returns to his dorm later and is questioning why he feels “weird” after acting upon his ruthless and natural nature.

-

besides, tom riddle isn’t capable of even “positively respecting someone in a slightly above average manner”, right?

or does his repetitive and “unconscious” staring at you completely defy that?

Tom Riddle as a human completely challenges any normal behavior (though, his mask of normality does not falter to public eye). With that, it only makes sense as a vampire, it would be no different.

Riddle would break most rules in the Vampire Handbook.

No capes, or theatrical speeches. He lacks the heart it takes to be human, so, he craves it instead.

———-

Tom despises sloppy, weak vampires. He believes immortality is the greatest oddity to scourge the earth, so to lazily feast on human flesh? Weak! Pathetic.

“How dare you indulge, you pitiful creature.”

Though Riddle’s religion has always been himself, he believes he was gifted immortality to prove his power on earth. He was carefully chosen to rid the earth of its sins.

Immortality is proof he was always destined to outgrow humanity.

Only at night, when the world sleeps, is when he shall feed— Classically, of course— Atop an antique dining room table, a white fitted cloth lay. A beautifully crafted meal awaits: roasted potatoes, asparagus, Yorkshire pudding, you. Wait, what? — Washed down with wonderfully aged red wine.

So, to any vampire who lacks time on cleaning up its last meal, or risks the existence of their dying undead race- Tom would waste no time to end their disgraceful existence.

———-

Don’t be fooled by his calculated presence. It’s exactly why he’s so perfect for his “gift”, anyway.

His quirks are what make him so attractive. He has many— but not too much to give off anything more than intimidating.

Which is why he’s the perfect candidate for a vampire. Everyone is aware he is different, but in an admiring gifted by the gods handsome way. His good looks and incredible manipulation tactics are exactly why he is nothing less than respected as a human. Someone already so complex, couldn’t be anymore. Right?

Or so they believe.

————-

Tom Riddles manor is a museum, literally.

Decades worth of journals, artifacts. Dates, events, names specifically arranged in his own benefit.

As cliché as it is, he does own a coffin. But, i didn’t mention sleeping, did i?

His faultlessly designed routine consists of mostly what a normal human would do.

“To act as one kind, you must embody them.”

The coffin is practically a fail safe, for whatever reason it shall support. But realistically, he finds it humorous to see it laid collecting dust in his bedroom— next to an actual bed.

———-

If you’ve somehow managed to weasel your way in to whatever unbeating heart he did have left, don’t expect to get out.

To hold the secret of Tom’s most prized possession, is as vulnerable he could indirectly get.

For whatever reason he didn’t immediately scourge his fangs into your jugular, or how he even let you be around him long enough to know, consider yourself lucky unlucky.

His version of affection would be terrifyingly intense. Remembering tiny things about you from years ago. Showing up uninvited. Watching quietly instead of speaking.

Stalking going on walks, but being unaware of a lingering presence close behind.

He’s weirdly possessive over you. Weirdly, not in the sense that he can easily kill you at any moment, but for you— goes against anything he thought he stood for.

He has that unsettling habit of appearing silently behind you without making a sound. No footsteps, no warning.

“Wait, weren’t your eyes brown?”

“You weren’t supposed to see that.”

————-

If he really was, somehow, by any miracle, or a tiny percentage, truthfully interested by you, he would absolutely test your loyalty in every way possible.

Everything he does is deliberate, planned. Mysterious “ketchup” stains, vanishing co-workers, reoccurring stench of death.

How much do you really fear him? Are you aware your life is in his hands at all times?

“I’m a vampire.” He reminds, like it somehow wasn’t apparent to you beforehand.

Your admiration of his sinful nature is the one thing he cannot control.

————-

A scent of parchment, wood, damp earth, and blood (which you assumed you mistook for your rusty keys) fill the cold, brooding air when his presence is near.

Maybe it’s natures apology gift to warn you a predator is approaching, or recklessly enough, the heavy scent of decay from his last meal.

——

There always was an off-putting strangeness about him. You just never would’ve guessed the reality of the situation.

It wasn’t only because he was eerily pristine.

The face of an angel, laid in the hands of a devil.

It was because everything about him appeared so perfectly sculpted. Too good to be true.

But the more you think— well, hypothetically, it could be possible.

A strange scent of bleach.

Unexplained disappearances, then returning days later perfectly fine.

How he looks the exact same in a photograph from 1954, which he claimed was a “weird coincidence.”

The hollow stillness in his gaze, the sharpened fangs concealed behind practiced smiles. The predatory grace with which he carried himself made him seem less like a man, and more like an elegant creature pulled from the grave itself.

Perhaps that’s what made him so terrifying— not the sharpened fangs or the blood staining the corners of his mouth, but how effortlessly he blended in among ordinary people.

He’s dead to you.

No, not because you hate him,

Because he’s a vampire.

———-

———

ugh, i had so much fun writing this!!! well— after i accidentally lost 2 hours of writing because tumblr can’t save drafts for crap. #jk

this idea came to me while i was watching TVD, along with making a tiktok about Tom. (which is on my account delsmalfoy) and i was like, omg.

Tom Riddle as a Vampire.

vampires are currently my hyperfixation, so of course , the hottest thing i could write is tom as a vampire.

i fear this could’ve been much better if my motivation wasn’t only fueled by my anger towards the draft deleting yet my disheartened spirit to NOT write because it is in the middle of the night. yet…. i did it anyway.

-

ttm if you got any recommendations!!!!

the song which single handily encouraged me to keep writing: