Lou

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No one thought much of it. Not until you-the sweet, gentle bunny animagus who everyone doted on like a little sister (or girlfriend, depending on who you asked) -hopped into the room, literally.

You were small and fluffy in your bunny form, white fur dusted with soot from wherever you’d been adventuring this time. Mattheo scooped you up immediately, shaking his head. “Merlin, you’re hopeless.”

You nuzzled into his hoodie pocket, and the boys continued their banter as Blaise finally pulled the tray from the oven. The smell was heavenly -warm chocolate, caramel edges, a hint of something earthy beneath.

“Don’t touch them yet,” Blaise warned, “they need to cool.”

Two minutes later, you-now very much back in human form-peeked over the counter, eyes wide. “Are those brownies?”

“Yeah,” Draco said without looking up from his book, “Zabini’s latest ego project.”

You smiled, already reaching for one. “They smell amazing!”

“Wait-” Theo started, eyes widening.

But it was too late.

You’d already taken a big, happy bite.

Everyone froze.

Mattheo stared. “Tell me she didn’t just-”

“She did,” Enzo groaned, rubbing his face.

Theo winced. “Oh, bloody hell.”

Draco set his book down slowly. “Please tell me you didn’t let her eat those brownies.”

“She grabbed it herself!” Blaise protested. “How was I supposed to stop her?”

“By using words, maybe?” Mattheo snapped.

Fifteen minutes later, you were lying on the common room couch, giggling at the way the torches flickered. “They’re dancing,” you whispered dreamily. “They’re… they’re little fire people.”

Theo crouched beside you, looking horrified and slightly impressed. “Okay, she’s definitely high.”

Blaise leaned against the arm of the couch, muttering, “She’s handling it better than Nott did the first time.”

Theo glared. “Not funny.”

Mattheo knelt down next to you, brushing a piece of hair from your face. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said softly, “how you feeling?”

You blinked up at him, pupils wide. “Your hair looks like a cloud.”

He tried not to laugh. “Right. Okay. Cloud hair. Good sign.”

You reached up, gently patting his curls. “Fluffy cloud. Soft.”

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something about incompetence while Enzo slipped you a glass of water. “Here, drink this, bun. It’ll help.”

“Bun?” you echoed, grinning. “I am a bun!”

And before anyone could stop you-you shifted.

A flash of fur, a pop of magic, and suddenly there was a tiny white bunny sitting on the couch, looking very pleased with herself.

Theo groaned. “Oh, perfect. She’s high and transformed.”

Blaise leaned down to look at you. “She’s just… sitting there. Staring.”

“She’s vibing,” Mattheo said, crossing his arms. “Let her vibe.”

You wiggled your nose.

Mattheo sighed, scooping you up carefully and setting you in his lap. “You’re lucky you’re cute, you know that?”

You responded by hopping in a little circle before collapsing in his lap, perfectly content.

Hours later, when the effects finally wore off and you turned back into yourself, your head was on Mattheo’s shoulder, his hoodie draped around you.

“What happened?” you mumbled, voice sleepy.

Blaise smirked from across the room. “You ate a felony.”

Theo grinned. “You owe us new brownies.”

Draco just sighed. “And I’m never trusting this group with baked goods again.”

You groaned. “Remind me to never eat anything in this dorm again.”

Mattheo chuckled, squeezing your hand. “Deal. But for what it’s worth…” he glanced down at you, still curled against him, “you make one adorable stoner bunny.”

You giggled, burying your face in his chest. “You’re mean.”

He grinned. “Yeah. But you love me anyway.”

The clock chimed softly over the quiet hum of the sitting room.

Baby Aurelia rubbed her eyes from where she was curled in Y/N’s arms, her tiny fist clutching the edge of her blanket.

Y/N stood first, brushing a thumb over Aurelia’s soft cheek. “Alright, loves, it’s your Little sister’s bedtime.”

One by one, the siblings rose from their seats, like a ritual they’d done a hundred times and would never grow tired of.

Mattheo was first, already grinning.

He bent down and pressed a kiss to Aurelia’s forehead. “Goodnight, Little Scene-Stealer. Try not to steal all of mum's attention tomorrow too, yeah?” Aurelia giggled, grabbing his finger with a sleepy smile.

Delphini followed, calm and elegant.

She tucked a stray curl behind Aurelia’s ear and kissed the tip of her nose.

“Goodnight, Bubba. Sleep beautifully, darling.”

With a gentle flick of her wand, a tiny silver butterfly fluttered above Aurelia before fading into sparkles.

Marvolo, pretending indifference but watching her with soft eyes, stepped forward.

“Don’t start any disasters without me tomorrow, Little Chaos,” he muttered, kissing the top of her head.

Albus knelt beside her, warm and gentle. “Sweet dreams, Little Light,” he whispered, gently brushing his fingers over her cheek.

Lifting his wand, he flicked it softly, and a small glowing star appeared above them shimmering quietly in the air before slowly fading away.

Lilith practically skipped over, eyes bright. “Night-night, Baby girl!” she said, peppering Aurelia’s cheeks with fast kisses until the baby squealed with laughter.

She curled her fingers around hers for a moment before releasing her with a quiet coo.

Silas stepped up last, trying to look serious and failing.

He pressed his forehead to hers and whispered, “Sleep well, BumBum,” before hugging her gently, careful and soft.

Then the room fell quiet.

Tom stood, smoothing his robes like he always did.

He walked over, placing a hand gently at the small of Y/N’s back.

He leaned down to kiss Y/N’s temple, then pressed another to Aurelia’s forehead.

“Goodnight, my youngest,” he murmured, voice impossibly gentle.

Aurelia cooed, sleepily tapping his chin with her tiny hand.

Y/N smiled, heart full as Tom’s arm wrapped around her waist.

The older children lingered at the doorway, watching softly as Tom wrapped an arm around Y/N.

Meanwhile, Y/N sat across from the kids, trying to appear calm despite the hundred questions swirling in her mind. She knew it was possible, but she still didn't believe that these were actually her children. In the flesh.

“So” she began carefully, “are you really my children?”

“Pretty much,” Scorpius said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think we're 18 years ahead from this timeline. Give or take.”

“And we're actually—“ Draco pointed between himself and you, “-your parents?”

Lyra gave an awkward smile. “Yep. Hi, Dad. Hi, Mum. Big fans, by the way.”

Draco blinked, utterly scandalized. “Fans?”

Leo grinned. “Mum says you used to be dramatic.”

Y/N bit back a laugh. “Used to be?”

Draco groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

“This cannot be happening.”

“Look on the bright side,” Lyra said sweetly. “You and Mum end up married. Three kids. Fancy house. Loads of money.l

Draco paused. “..Go on.”

Y/N shot him a look. "Really?"

“What? I'm trying to find the positives,” he muttered.

Scorpius sighed, glancing down at the broken Time-Turner resting on the table between them.

“We just need to fix this. Then we'll disappear and never tell anyone you were soft with Mum.”

Draco froze. “Soft?”

lVery soft,” Lyra said brightly. “You literally hugged her earlier.”

“I did not-“ Draco started, but you just smirked at him.

“Oh, you did.” Y/N said.

And somewhere, somehow, Leo reached for another piece of toast and whispered, “I like it here.”

Your weight was held precariously on the broomstick which rattled beneath you — twisting and turning in every direction possible. The sight of your green robes swooshing this way and that caused the stands of heads to turn in every direction, trying to locate your resisting broomstick that held you, almost dangling.

Even the Ravenclaw team remained on their own broomsticks, transfixed at the sight — not even bothering with the fact that the goalposts were now deserted of protection against the Quaffle, which now floated around aimlessly.

Theodore Nott made his way over to your other side, before you abruptly turned in the other direction. “Careful, bella,” he said, narrowly avoiding being hit by the tail of twigs from the end of your broomstick.

“Make — it — STOP,” you rasped out, struggling to hold on — the broomstick moving even impossibly faster as it continued to rotate.

“Theo, go tell Flint to call time-out!” Mattheo yelled over the increasingly loud gasps coming from the crowd, as he tried to reach for the handle of your broom to hold it still.

Theo nodded, quickly tilting the hilt of his own broomstick towards the Slytherin captain.

Draco Malfoy, who was too preoccupied by your struggle rather than the golden snitch he was supposed to catch, made his way over.

“Are you alright?” he asked, concern — and mild entertainment — laced in his words.

“Oh — yeah — FANTASTIC!” you roared sarcastically, as your broomstick began to rise upwards and descend a few feet rapidly.

The sound of Madam Hooch’s whistle rang throughout the pitch, as Theo made his way back over to the small huddle of team players that had formed around you. Behind him was Blaise Zabini — Adrian Pucey and Marcus Flint behind him a distance away, watching in astonishment.

“How do we make it stop?” Theo asked, as Mattheo was almost knocked off his own broom — the handle of yours colliding with the front of his, sending him spinning.

“Guys!” a voice called from the stands. As you spun, you caught the brief sight of your two other friends who weren’t on the Quidditch team — Pansy Parkinson and Enzo Berkshire.

“Get her off it!” Pansy shrieked out, covering her eyes with the palms of her hands as she thought you were about to plummet to the grounds.

Mattheo and Theo exchanged a silent look with one another, before tilting their brooms downwards. They hovered below where you flew — waiting to catch you if you fell.

“Try a spell or something!” Enzo said, as he began to pull out his own wand, Draco and Blaise following suit.

“Immobulus!” Draco called out. The green sparks that illuminated from the tip of his wand twinkled around the wooden broomstick; he had missed you, as you were moving too fast.

“It’s not working,” he said, growing concerned the more pale your face became with each passing minute of vertigo.

“What is that?” Pansy pointed towards a cloaked figure that stood at the bottom of the pitch, beneath the stands. The figure was staring fixedly at your broomstick, their mouth forming around unheard words.

“Ugh, I’ll be back. Don’t let her fall!” Pansy ordered, before hurriedly making her way through the stands of immobile Slytherins, who stood transfixed at the sight.

Half of your weight was dangling off the broomstick, as you struggled to maintain your balance on the spinning death trap.

The whole stadium was simultaneously drowned in deafening silence and roars of raucous. Many people gasped, others letting out a sob. Hagrid had even covered his eyes from where he stood near the Ravenclaw students.

Your stomach dropped, as you felt yourself free fall. You shut your eyes tightly, bracing for the impact of the hard grounds.

Then, a collective cheer echoed throughout the stands — louder even than when the Quidditch Cup was awarded. You blinked your eyes open, realizing that you hadn’t landed on the muddy ground, yet rather, in someone’s arms.

“I’ve got you,” Mattheo said, as he pulled you onto his own broomstick — Theo holding onto the handle from beside you to ensure that it could support both of your weights.

A sick crunching sound was heard. You looked down, seeing your broomstick, or, what remained of it, as it toppled to the ground.

You stared with your mouth agape, still shaking as you reached to hold onto Mattheo. “You could say I caught you, huh?” he said jokingly, sending a sly wink over his shoulder at you, before heading towards the grounds.

A gleam of gold shining near where your broomstick had landed caught your eye, causing you to gasp.

“Malfoy, the snitch!” you yelled over Mattheo’s shoulder.

You had caught his attention, as well as the attention of Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw Seeker, and the rest of the stands. Malfoy lurched forward, Chang barrelling towards the snitch from the opposite side of the pitch.

Both teams held their breaths, watching as the two dived towards the remnants of your broomstick. Malfoy fell towards the muddy terrain, rolling for a few meters.

You gasped. You saw a green gloved-hand reach into the air, brandishing a fluttering snitch that fought against his closed fist.

“Malfoy’s caught the snitch. Slytherin wins!” Lee Jordan roared, his own prejudice against the Slytherin team dispersed from the horrors of the match.

The stadium erupted in applause and cheers, as the rest of the team hurdled towards Malfoy on the grounds — your arms still clenched tightly around Mattheo’s mid-section.

“That was brilliant!” Blaise roared, as Theo clapped a hand on Malfoy’s back, earning a wince from him. Enzo made his way over from the stands, followed by the rest of the Slytherin spectators.

“That was-,” he began, before a horrid scream came from behind the stands.

“YOU!” a female voice roared.

Pansy Parkinson came striding onto the field, pulling a sobbing Ravenclaw by the sleeve of her robe behind her.

“This one,” she began, as the girl reluctantly tried to break away from Pansy’s grasp. “Was hexing your broom.”

The girl sobbed, covering her streaming eyes with the sleeves of her robes. “I was t-told t-to. Another boy said h-he would h-hex me if I d-didn’t,” she sobbed.

“Who?” Theo asked angrily, a shared look of fury mirrored on Mattheo’s, Blaise’s, and Draco’s faces from where they’d made their way over to the forming group.

Wordlessly, the sobbing girl pointed to a boy on the Ravenclaw team. Countless heads turned in his direction. You recognized the boy as being in the same year as you — you had even spoken to him on your first train ride to Hogwarts, the two of you anxious about which House you’d be sorted into.

He was already staring at the lot of you, feigning innocent concern. Before you could stop him, Mattheo had stride towards him, pushing him sharply across the shoulders — the boy toppling backwards to the grass of the pitch.

“Don’t-,” you tried to grab Theo’s arm, but he pulled away, following after Mattheo, wand clenched in his hand.

The boy unsteadily tried to push himself back up from the grass, brandishing his wand from the pocket of his Quidditch robes. He was quickly shot back down by Theo’s loud shout of “Expelliarmus!” as he caught the boy’s wand, dropping it to the ground and stomping on it with the heel of his shoe.

A Ravenclaw first-year from the growing crowd on the pitch gasped, covering his eyes with his much too large robes. Many of the Slytherins cheered, encouragements of “Yeah, hex his arse!” spewing about.

Mattheo leaned towards the boy as he laid on the grass, pulling him forwards by the hem of his Quidditch uniform, punching him across the nose harshly.

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?” roared an authoritative voice, hurtling towards the crowd that had grown around the three fighting boys. Professor McGonagall had made her way over, Madam Hooch at her side.

“Depulso!” McGonagall roared. The three boys separated from one another — Theo and Mattheo on one side of the group, the Ravenclaw boy, who clutched his bleeding nose, on the other.

“He’s a filthy cheater,” Pansy chimed in.

“That’s enough, Parkinson!” McGonagall said, fury laced in her voice, her top-hat almost falling over her eyes as she shook on the spot with outrage.

“You,” she spoke, pulling the Ravenclaw boy up by his arm, “Go to Madam Pomfrey’s — and 50 points will be taken from Ravenclaw.” The boy quickly hurried away, his head downcast, a trail of blood following him as he left to the sound of whispers.

“And you two,” she spoke, addressing Mattheo and Theo. “25 points each will be taken from Slytherin.”

“Worth it,” Theo whispered, loud enough that only the seven of you could hear. Mattheo silently fist-bumped him.

“And detention,” she continued. She shook her head exasperatedly, before turning her way back towards the empty grounds, mumbles of “honestly,” and “completely unacceptable,” falling from her lips. Madam Hooch followed shortly after her.

“You all right, bella?” Theo asked you, placing an arm around your shoulders.

“I’m fine,” you assured. “My broom isn’t, though,” you pointed towards the remnants of the wooden broom that lay a few feet away.

“You know, that Ravenclaw boy had a pretty nice one..” Mattheo smirked, a glint in his eyes.

“You can’t steal his broom,” Enzo warned.

“Without us,” Draco finished, him, Blaise, and Pansy joining the rest of you.

“That’s not what I meant-,” he started.

“Come on, with any luck, we can hex him before he even makes it to Madam Pomfrey’s,” Pansy said excitedly, breaking into a run across the field towards the castle.

The five of you stared after her.

“Come on!” she looked over her shoulder and signalled for you guys to follow, breaking into a sprint.

Draco smirked, before running after her, his own broomstick clutched in his hand. Mattheo followed with a laugh, Theo reaching for your hand before the two of you sprinted after. Blaise shrugged, before running.

“Bloody hell,” Enzo sighed out, following, too.

© angelicchris

“i’m not doing your entire assignment.”

“so… half?”

“assisting,” he reiterates, albeit, still giving in to your demands. for all that tom is, he appreciated the value of hard work and looked down on cheating… but for you, he’ll let it slide just this once (it does not end up being just once).

“fine. assist me then while i lie here and do absolutely nothing,” you hum in delight, patting a cushion and making yourself comfortable.

tom exhales sharply — a mix between an exasperated sigh from how much you test his patience and a suppressed huff of laughter.

“you are completely unbearable.”

“and yet, you adore me.”

unfortunately, he did.

because tom riddle is the boy who could bend minds with a smile, and yet, for you — he is currently scribbling out your entire potions essay and rewriting it while you sit back and relax as if you hadn’t just gotten the most feared slytherin at hogwarts to do your homework on your command.

across the room, several members of his inner circle — the so called knights of walpurgis — were watching the whole thing in disbelief.

“she didn’t even try,” one whispers.

“he just… did it.”

another scowls. “she’s a mud—”

“shut up,” a new voice hisses. “he likes her. i heard he hexed rosier last week for making a joke about it.”

“…”

“maybe if we get on her good side—”

“enough.” tom’s voice cuts through the air like a knife.

the gossipy murmurs stop immediately. the group clears their throats, looking anywhere else except at the both of you in a very obvious, idiotic fashion. none of them dared to meet tom’s gaze… except you.

you lean over and kiss his cheek sweetly, smug and triumphant and ever so oblivious. “well, i’ll be back later. don’t miss me too much. i’ll give you the other kiss once you’re done as a reward — promise.”

you stand, dusting off your robes, already moving towards the stairs to leave the common room when he speaks out again, low but heard by all.

“don’t stay out too long.”

you pause in your tracks, turning to face him with a tilt of your head.

“why? gonna miss me?”

tom doesn’t answer your tease with what he wants to, not in front of the blithering idiots — but he doesn’t have to. the look in his eyes says yes, i’ll burn this world down if it ever takes you from me . . . but instead, all that leaves his mouth is:

“because your friends are irritating, and i prefer when you’re where i can see you.”

sure, it’s only that, the students in the common room all thought collectively.

extra:

later that night, when the common room had emptied, the knights of walpurgis gathered near the fireplace, voices hushed but urgent.

“i still can’t believe it,” malfoy mutters, poking the embers with his wand. “he ended up doing the whole bloody essay.”

“he didn’t have to,” lestrange points out gruffly. “he chose to. like… a domesticated pet.”

a few of them snort at that.

rosier leans in, whispering like he’s sharing top secret intel. “i swear on salazar’s beard i saw him almost smile when she came back down and gave him three kisses ‘stead of one like she said. he’s whipped.”

“three?” mulciber repeats, incredulous. “yeah, one for each cheek, and then on the lips,” rosier confirms, puckering his own and making kissy sounds. “like a proper fairytale ending, if the fairytale involved a future dark lord doing someone’s potions homework.”

there is a long pause as they all try to picture it.

avery finally exhales a laugh, making them all turn their heads his way. “he’s gone mad.”

“mad?” nott repeats, smirking into his goblet of wine. “yes, mad with love.~”

that earns a few cackles and smoochy sounds — the kind that immediately dies the second a shadow falls across their little group. they slowly and carefully turn their heads to look back.

tom stands right behind them with his arms crossed, expression unreadable, sleeves rolled up to his elbows neatly, the faintest trace of ink still on his fingertips. his gaze sweeps over each of them, cold and sharp enough to make them shudder and bow their heads in submission.

“something amusing?” he asks softly — tone dangerous.

“no, riddle,” they chorus at once, faces pale.

he regards them for a moment too long to make them squirm, then turns away in finality, the hem of his cloak brushing against the rug as he makes his way up towards the dorms.

The hardest time for Tom was when she had to go away for school, only returning for his birthday and during summer-leaving so little time for him to be with her. Even so, it was his favorite time of year-perhaps in another life, without her, his birthday would be something he hated, but with (y/n); it meant her coming back with gifts from her special school and spending a whole two weeks with him.

And right now, he was 4-turining 5 at the very end of year-waiting for his mother to return from her special school. She was only 16 now, turning 17 within the summer-but she was his mother nonetheless, he didn’t consider her as anything else.

Especially since she promised to take him with her when she aged out of the system.

Tom eagerly waited at the window of his mothers room, peering out into the courtyard below-awaiting her return, knowing she was bringing sweets and gifts for him. He stood higher on his toes as he saw a familiar face enter the orphanage courtyard, and he quickly raced out of the room, other children jumping out of his way-half out of fear half to just stay out of his way.

He made it to the doors just as (y/n) opened them and she smiled, laughing as he launched himself at her, burying his face in her stomach. “Mom!” he yelled and (y/n) wrapped her arms around him, picking him up to rest him on her hip-heading back upstairs to her room, the caretakers breathing a sigh of relief since for the next two weeks-there would be no nasty incidents involving Tom and the other children.

“What did I tell you about calling me mom?” (y/n) teased, pinching his side as he nuzzled his face into her shoulder. “You never said anything bout it,” Tom said, gripping her shirt tightly as she set him back down on his feet in her room.

“Yes, I did,” (y/n) chuckled, ruffling his hair, his hands instantly latching to her hand as she pulled away-making her pick him up to walk further into the room. “No, you didn’t,” Tom quipped back, climbing onto her bed as she dropped her bag onto it, Tom already trying to dig through it before the shoulder strap fell.

“Tom,” (y/n) snorted, prying his hands off her bag. “What do you think you’re doing little man?” Tom looked up at her ‘innocently’, making her snort again. “If you want the treats I brought you, ask nicely.”

“Please?” Tom asked instantly and (y/n) snorted again, letting him dig through the bag, but grabbing a wrapped box from him. “What-wait!” Tom said, reaching for the box, but (y/n) held it away from him, putting it in a spot he couldn’t reach.

“It’s for your birthday,” (y/n) said and Tom stared hard at the present, already coming up with plans to try and get that gift but (y/n) pinched his ear. “Hey you already have some stuff to look at right now,” Tom yelped and pouted, rubbing his ear but quickly turning his attention to the treats and smaller gifts (y/n) had brought back with her.

“Qh-what are these called?” Tom asked, holding up a box that had multicolored bug-shaped candies inside. “Fizzing Whizzbees, they’ll make you float, taste like sherbert.” (y/n) said with a smile, chuckling as Tom tore open the box and ate one-floating a few inches off the surface of the bed. “How are they?”

“It pops!” Tom said, feeling the candy fizzle in his mouth. (y/n) chuckled and caught him as the effect wore off, setting him back down on the bed as he dug through her bag again, finding Chocolate frogs, sugar quills, Bertie bots every flavor jellybeans, and jelly slugs. He, of course, shared these with (y/n), making her smile as he broke a sugar quill in half and handed one to her.

“Thank you,” (y/n) hummed, nibbling at the sugary quill feather, tasting similar to candy floss, as Tom opened the chocolate frog box-yelping as the charmed chocolate leapt from the box-(y/n) catching it.

“It jumps!” Tom gasped, reaching for the frog in (y/n)’s hand, who held it out to him.

“Yep, it's only got one jump in them though, the charm wears off pretty quickly,” (y/n) said, the frog in Tom’s hand hardening and turning to regular chocolate.  He broke it in half-it was hollow chocolate-and handed one half to (y/n), who smiled at the offering.

She was the only person he shared with, everyone else got no second thought.

When he opened the box of jelly beans, she carefully took them from him, showing him all the flavors on the side of the box. “liver and tripe? Rotten egg? Bile? Gross!? Who would flavor jelly beans like that!” Tom said with a gag, watching as (y/n) took a green jelly bean, tossing it into her mouth-and then shaking her head with a scrunch of her nose.

“Grass clippings.” She laughed, spitting the jellybean out into the small trash can beside Tom’s bed. Tom scrunched his nose, crawling halfway into her lap-stuffing his hand into the box, grabbing a handful, smelling a dark brown jellybean. “They wont smell like anything but sugar, it’s a game of risk,” (y/n) said, snorting as Tom carefully bit the jelly bean, his shoulders very tense.

He relaxed after a moment. “Chocolate,” He said, handing her the rest of the jellybean, she smiled and ate it, Tom carefully biting the other jellybeans, handing good ones to her and throwing the bad ones away.

It had already been late when she returned from Kings cross station, so soon Tom was brushing his teeth and getting ready for bed, crawling into (y/n)’s bed once more as she finished up her night routine, buttoning up her pajamas. “Story?” Tom asked, holding up one of her schoolbooks she’d brought back with her.

(y/n) chuckled, taking the book from him-it was advanced potion making-and while she didn’t doubt Tom would enjoy the contents, it wasn’t a good bedtime story. “Sure,” she murmured, grabbing a different book from her bag; The Tales of Beedle the Bard. She slid into bed and Tom scooched as close as he could-cuddled up into her side, her arm wrapped around him-the other holding the book on her stomach.

She flipped through the pages until she found a story she thought Tom might like. “The tale of the three brothers,” (y/n) began to read, and Tom listened intently, reading alongside her and looking at the illustrations intently.

“he greeted death as an old friend, and they departed as equals,” (y/n) murmured as she reached the end of the tale, noticing Tom had fallen asleep-curled up in her side-his fists clutching her shirt. She smiled softly, closing the book and setting it on her bedside table. She waved her hand-her lamp clicking off, leaving the room in comforting darkness-the moon shining through the window.

She turned, wrapping her arm around Tom-holding him closer like a teddy bear-he snuggled into her in his sleep-letting out a soft breath. (y/n) smiled down at him, her gaze soft. He was a precious boy, even if he only behaved for her; she counted down the days till she could leave the orphanage and take him with her-to help him on his journey to become a wizard, she knew he was going to be great-even now at only 4 years old-he was achieving great feats with his growing magic.

She kissed his forehead, holding her pseudo son/brother close, happy to be back with him for two weeks.

-

“Be good, play nice with the other kids-no fighting. Unless of course one of the other kids want to fight; then you gotta kick the other kids butt.” (y/n) said, fixing the lapels of Tom’s orphanage uniform jacket as he let out a small laugh, the wool scratchy against her skin but she ignored it-it was the start of winter now, so Tom needed all the layers he could get-especially since he was so little and got sick pretty easily.

“Okay,” Tom murmured, looking at her with sad kitten eyes and she smiled, pulling him into a hug, his smaller arms wrapping around her neck. “I’ll miss you,”

“I’ll miss you too little man, be good.” (y/n) murmured, kissing his round, flushed cheek, grabbing her trunk as she stood-Tom walking with her to the orphanage gates-he was too young to accompany her to the station, too young to walk back on his own. He waved his mother goodbye, staying at the gates until she was out of sight.

He hated it when she left, not because he was vulnerable-he could take care of himself-but he liked it when she was around, he was her baby; and he hated when she couldn’t treat him like it.

Tom let out a huff-heading back into the orphanage-his expression stormy, making others leap out of his way, he was always in a terrible mood when (y/n) left.

-

He sat under the shady tree in the courtyard of the orphanage, it was mandatory outside time right now, but it usually didn’t matter what the kids did unless they were trying to escape or doing something horribly wrong, so the care takers left Tom alone-allowing him to read ‘The tales of Beedle the bard’ in peace.

Well, until Billy-the resident bully at the orphanage, picking on anyone smaller than him; I.E, Tom, came stomping up-snatching the book from Tom’s hand.

“What's this? A gift from your mommy?” Billy sneered, rough handling the book in his hand, tearing a page. Tom’s eyes bulged, and he curled his lips into a sneer, lunging towards Billy without a second thought.

“Give that back! You rat!” Tom yelled, his fists beating on Billy with all his strength-which unfortunately wasn’t much as Billy laughed-shoving Tom off him. Tom hit the ground-his head bumping the ground roughly and he let out a yelp out of reflex, making Billy and his little gang laugh.

“Aww, you want your mommy, freak?” Billy sneered and Tom glared, hatred clear in his eyes-he stood-dirt stained fists clenching at his sides, rocks lifted from the ground, Billy’s friends saw it-hitting Billy to get his attention but he kept laughing, tearing the book in half-Tom’s eyes widened in horror, his jaw dropping-the rocks fell to the ground, the boy too much in shock to do anything more as Billy laughed again-throwing the destroyed book at Tom’s feet-leaving before anything more happened.

Tom stared down at the ruined book, his brows pinching-throat closing. No-he shook his head, anger rising again, kneeling to grab the two halves and ripped pages of the book. No, he wouldn’t cry, he wouldn’t-Billy didn’t deserve his tears. Tom stood, glaring daggers into Billy’s back as he laughed, eyes locking onto the bunny Billy was handed-a bunny Billy handed with tender care.

Billy deserved much worse.

-

It was deserved, Billy had destroyed something precious of Tom’s, so Tom returned the favor.

“NO!” Billy cried-stumbling back into his room-eyes wide, tears already streaming down his face, face pale, bile in his throat. His bunny was dead, hung from the rafters right in front of his room.

Tom smirked at the horrified sound, face buried in another book-in his room. The door was locked, he’d done something else to get himself grounded, an alibi-how could he have hurt Billy’s bunny if he had been locked in his room for the last day?

Billy’s cries echoed down the hall and into Tom’s room, Tom letting out a small, satisfied chuckle.

“Serves him right,” Tom muttered with a cruel smirk, flipping the pages of the storybook (y/n) had given him for his last birthday, this one was of muggle fairy tales, but he didn’t mind, (y/n) liked it, so he did too.

He heard Billy accusing him through the walls but for once-the caretakers backed him up-he’d been in his room the whole day! Including the night before-how could he have gotten out to hang the bunny? Every other child was interrogated, but none fessed up, which resulted in all being punished-except Tom, he was already grounded.

He smiled widely-unnaturally, hiding behind his book, satisfaction running deep in his bones, along with the giddy feeling of getting away with it.

-

Billy remained very suspicious of Tom being the one to murder his bunny, but Tom’s unnerving stare and smirk always sent him running-finally getting the idea that Tom was not the one to mess with. Tom was the freak of the orphanage, the loner, the one who only had his pseudo mother and snakes as his friends.

He did feel some regret in killing the bunny, but only because the bunny hadn’t done anything to him-but it was a tool for revenge, and Tom used whatever he could to get a leg up on Billy.

Meanwhile-Tom tried everything he could to repair the book, trying to sew it back together didn’t work, nor did trying to beg a book binder-they wanted money for it and Tom hadn’t a coin to his name.

So he sulked, storing away the torn book below his bed, hoping (y/n) could repair it when she came back for the summer.

-

Two more years passed before (y/n) returned from her special school for the final time, and that summer was her final summer at the orphanage-she was turning 18 soon-too old to stay at the orphanage, too old for anyone to adopt, and old enough to leave and take Tom with her.

She held his hand as they left wools orphanage together-the caretakers hadn’t fought her, hadn’t tried to keep him-they all wanted Tom gone, and if he was with her-perhaps he’d be a better child. “We’re really going?” Tom asked (y/n), holding her hand tightly, carrying his bag that had his clothes inside, (y/n) had cast an extension charm on her bag-all her belongings resting on her hip. She smiled and nodded, squeezing his smaller hand.

“Yeah, we’re going, c’mon-I was able to save up for a place for us,” (y/n) said with a smile, and Tom smiled back, following (y/n) down the street, away from the orphanage, into a new life with his mother.

-

Tom was woken up horribly by the sound of high-pitched sirens that echoed through the air; dread pooled in his stomach. He sat up in bed, his eyes locked outside the window. He couldn’t move; fear kept him bolted in place. His door burst open, his mother rushing towards him.

“Tom! Get up! we have to go!” (y/n) cried, grabbing his hand as he tumbled out of the rickety bed, just barely able to put his slippers on-his mother waved her wand, several items flew into a small bag and then they were racing down the steps of the apartment complex-colliding with others that were also trying to get out, to get to the bomb shelters.

“Mom!” Tom yelped-losing his grip on her hand-she stopped, crying out his name-another bystander scooped him up; handing him to (y/n). Tom pressed his face to her shoulder, his eyes locked onto the sky, seeing the spotlights searching the dark clouds for the German planes.

Everyone huddled into the bunker, shoulder to shoulder-no room to breathe. Tom was held close to (y/n)’s chest, her arms wrapped tight around him, her wand against his stomach-hidden from view-she muttered spells under her breath, protection charms-to keep Tom safe.

He flinched as the first bomb fell-cries of…everyone rang out through the bunker, children clung to their mothers, wives to their husbands-if they were there. Tom turned, burying his face in (y/n)’s shoulder. She held him tight, muttering assurances.

They’d be okay, their home would be okay, they were going to be okay. Tomorrow would be another day.

-

Tom was 10 when a strange man visited the apartment he and his mother lived in-he knew what the man was, a wizard, and a professor at the special school his mother had gone to for 7 years straight-the same school that took her from him every year without fail.

“What do you teach?” Tom asked before the old man said anything and his brows raised-somehow surprised Tom knew who he was. “my mum’s told me about Hogwarts, told me I was going to go when I was old enough.” Tom said, and Dumbledore raised his brow. He had been told Tom Riddle was an orphan.

He had seen (y/n) in the apartment, she’d let him in even; he’d assumed she was only taking care of Tom; a big sister figure if anything-but it seemed their relationship ran deeper, a mother and her son-adopted yes, but no less meaningful.

So Dumbledore gave Tom a simpler rundown of Hogwarts, yes he told him-it was a magical school where he’d learn to be a wizard and to control his magic, and that he had be on his best behavior there, and that like how (y/n) couldn’t take him with her to school-she couldn’t go with him to Hogwarts. Tom frowned, another 7 years, only seeing his mother every summer and for his birthday, 7 years until he graduated and became a full-fledged wizard.

But he wanted to make (y/n) proud, so he nodded, he’d go to Hogwarts-become a great wizard, (y/n) always told him he would be, that he had amazing potential and would be great in whatever future he chose.

Dumbledore gave Tom his acceptance letter, and left, Tom raced to his mother-(y/n) smiling as he showed her the letter. “Knew you’d get in,” (y/n) said with a chuckle, sitting with him at the table as he ripped open the letter to read it.

The letter read the same as any child’s would when accepted to Hogwarts, Tom showing his excitement eagerly to his mother-who never shunned him for showing them or even being quiet. “It says I can either bring an owl, toad, or cat to Hogwarts-can I bring a snake instead?” Tom asked (y/n) who gave a shake of her head, Tom pouted. “Why not?”

“Because they’re not approved and while I’m sure you would take great care of a snake, they’re not exactly Hogwarts friendly, though I could write to headmaster Dippet to see what he says, no harm in asking.” (y/n) said, tucking a curl behind Tom’s ear as he read through his letter once again.

A week later they were in Diagon alley, getting everything Tom would need for his first year at Hogwarts-Tom’s hand held tight in (y/n)’s. “Are you sure I can't get a snake?” Tom asked for the 7th time that morning, and (y/n) gave an apologetic smile.

“Sorry little man, Headmaster said no, but why don’t we find a cat or owl for you instead? I always wanted one when I was going, I just wasn’t able to since the orphanage wouldn’t let me keep a cat or owl.” Tom let out a small ‘harrumph’, remembering Billy’s bunny-and yet they wouldn’t let (y/n) have an animal that wouldn’t be there 10 months out of the year.

They got Tom’s books, his school uniform robes, and finally-his wand. “Ready?” (y/n) asked softly as they walked into the store-Tom’s nerves bubbling in his chest. He nodded, clutching his mother’s hand tightly as they walked up to the counter.

The shop smelled like carved wood and polish, with walls and walls of wands within their boxes. Tom’s mouth dropped open, looking all over the old shop-it was cluttered yet fascinating. (y/n) led him up to the counter, Tom ringing the bell and an old wizard popped around the corner.

“Just on time,” the old wizard said, hobbling around the corner. He waved his hand around, looking for the perfect wand, sliding one from the hawthorn section. “it seems only yesterday, you were getting your wand miss (y/n),” (y/n) smiled down at Tom and he gave a nervous smile back, taking the hawthorn wand as it was offered to him.

He gave it a flick-and a nearby vase exploded.

Tom looked up at his mother like the wand had personally offended him as the old wizard took the wand back. “the wand chooses the wizard, it’s not always the first one handed to you.” (y/n) said softly, her hand resting on his back.

-I am…TERRIBLY sorry but I’ve got no idea how to continue, finish, or even write more of this im in a terrible writing block again for Tom Riddle so, I guess…all writing of mine will be on hiatus??? PLEASE send in requests if you guys have any ideas so I can possibly get back into the groove but GOD my creative brain just turned off :c-