Nora

When she arrived at the library, the light was fading, casting long, dramatic shadows. Tom wasn’t at a main table. He was waiting in a quiet alcove near the Restricted Section, shielded by a tall stack of shelves holding ancient, oversized volumes. He was seated alone, his back perfectly straight, a quill hovering over a fresh roll of parchment. 

“Tom,” Elara greeted quietly, approaching his table. 

He looked up immediately, his intense focus shifting entirely to her. He did not smile broadly, but offered a respectful, contained nod. 

“Elara. Good, you’re prompt. Time is a resource, and we should be meticulous with it.” He gestured to the empty seat across from him. “I’ve already pulled my notes on the stabilising theory. I hope you ate, we don’t want distractions.” 

Elara settled into the chair, placing her potions text on the polished dark wood. The atmosphere was immediately serious and electric with focus. 

“Let’s dispense with Slughorn’s muddled explanations entirely,” Tom began, his voice dropping to a low murmur that felt profoundly private. He pushed a scroll of tightly written notes towards her. “The reason you’re struggling is because the N.E.W.T curriculum treats ‘binding’ as a branch of potions, when in fact, it is a concept fundamental to runes and high level charm work. You are trying to speak Latin using only Greek vocabulary.” 

He picked up a clean sheet of parchment and began to sketch. 

“A compound is merely a container. The stability of a complex brew, particularly one involving volatile ingredients, is determined by the intentional imposition of a protection matrix. Look at this rune sequence.” He quickly drew a complex looking diagram. “The ancient Solis enchantments you mentioned, the protective kind, are all based on this concept of internal will being projected outward as a shield. Now, transpose that concept onto your potion.” 

Elara leaned in, utterly captivated. Tom’s mind moved at a pace that matched her own, cutting through years of classroom principles with frightening clarity. His notes were not just accurate, they were philosophical, linking the physical world of ingredients to the abstract reality of magical intent. 

“So, when I add the final agent,” Elara answered, following his line of thought perfectly, “the concentration shouldn’t be on temperature, but on visualising the ingredient accepting the protective imposition of the surrounding charms.” 

Tom’s eyes gleamed with approval. He tapped the parchment sharply. 

“Preciesly. You grasp it faster than anyone I’ve attempted to explain this to. Most people see the surface, you Elara, are capable of seeing the runic structure beneath it. It’s a rare sight, even among the brightest. We’ve managed to distill a year of frustrating theory into ten minutes of clarity.” 

The ten minutes he had promised were long past. An hour had slipped unnoticed. 

“Excellent,” Tom said, rolling up his potions notes. “Now that we’ve resolved that, I noticed you were struggling with the classification of certain Mugwort species in herbology during the lesson earlier. Their magical resistance is highly complex.” 

Before Elara could confirm, he reached for a much older, leather-bound volume he had secreted beneath the table. 

“The current texts are lacking. I found a reference to a pre-Wizengamot classification system. Look here.” He pointed to a small, detailed drawing of a silver-veined leaf. “According to this text, which predates the four Founders mind you, plants were categorised not by common property, but by their receptivity to soul magic stabilisation.” 

He paused for a moment, letting the weight of his words settle. 

“This classification system, though largely forgotten, was reportedly pioneered by a few ancient pureblood lines who focused on earth bound magic. Families known for guarding things. I suspect your ancestor, Cassius Solis, likely adhered to this older system.” 

Elara’s breath caught slightly. He hadn’t just helped her with homework, he had provided a historical, magical context that connected her academic weakness to her deepest familial strength. 

Tom gave her a slight, satisfied smile, signaling the end of the lesson. Elara felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude and intellectual awe. 

“Tom, I don’t know how to thank you. That was… that was brilliant. No professor has ever made these subjects so clear, or given them such deep context.” 

Tom gathered his parchment slowly, pausing before he met her gaze. He allowed the intensity of the meeting to dissipate, replacing it with a moment of quiet, focused respect. 

“You don’t need to thank me Elara. I find your focus… refreshing.” His voice was low and sincere. “You possess a unique purity of intent, a single minded dedication to understanding the foundation of magic that is untainted by trivial distractions like Quidditch scores or gossip. That is a truly powerful thing. It’s why you grasp these concepts so easily.” 

He pushed his chair back slightly, preparing to leave. 

As he stood, his hand brushed past her necklace, which she was subconsciously touching. He stopped, his gaze dropping to the dark silver crest. 

“That heirloom you wear,” he said, his tone casual, almost an afterthought. “The one your family guards. It must carry significant power, considering the history of the Solis line being so involved in deep protective magic.” 

Elara looked down at the necklace, now seeing it through the lens of ancient protection and forgotten knowledge. “I suppose so. It’s called the Aetherium, my mother told me.” 

Tom gave no visible reaction, yet his eyes subtly sharpened on the carved word. Aetherium. The lock. 

“A beautiful name for a powerful lineage,” he conceded. “You should always wear it, Elara. It suits you, a symbol of such ancient protection.” 

He gave a final, brief, authoritative nod. “We’ve accomplished a great deal tonight. I’ll see you at the library next Thursday. I want to show you the parallels between your Solis protection charters and early Gorgon blood wards. It’s a fascinating crossover.” 

He left before she could reply, his purpose fulfilled. Elara sat alone in the deep shadow of the alcove, her heart not fluttering with romance, but humming with deep, intellectual satisfaction. 

-

The intense focus of their private study sessions continued to occupy Elara’s thoughts over the next few days. She felt a growing, thrilling sense of self-confidence fueled by Tom’s recognition of her intelligence. Robin’s warning had faded into a harmless background hum of typical teenage caution. Tom Riddle wasn’t using her; he was validating her life’s purpose.

A few days after their last meeting, Elara took a break from the relentless rhythm of N.E.W.T. preparation. The sun was mild for late autumn, and she decided to walk along the edge of the Black Lake, enjoying the quiet reflection of the sky on the water.

She was walking alone, enjoying the sound of the small waves lapping against the shore, when a smooth voice cut through the stillness.

“Elara.”

She stopped and turned to see Tom Riddle approaching from the castle grounds. He wasn't in his robes, but in a crisp dark suit jacket and trousers—impeccably dressed, even for a casual walk. His presence was always striking, but here, against the wild nature of the lake, it felt particularly commanding.

“Tom. I didn’t expect to see you down here,” she said, slightly surprised.

“I find the fresh air necessary after too long with musty parchment,” he replied, reaching her side. He fell into step with her, matching her pace easily. “Besides, Head Boy duties often require checking the perimeter. Though I admit, my mind was still on those Solis Charters we discussed.”

“Mine too,” Elara admitted, pleased that he was thinking of their work even outside the library. “I looked into the Gorgon blood wards you mentioned. The complexity of imposing a sentient matrix onto a non-sentient artifact… it’s staggering.”

Tom nodded slowly, his gaze sweeping across the surface of the lake, his profile sharp and thoughtful.

“It is. It requires a specific kind of magical discipline. A level of control over one’s own will that few people possess. It is pure magic, divorced entirely from chaotic emotion.” He turned his focus back to her. “I realised after our talk that the key component isn't the magic of the shield, but the profound trust in the caster’s own lineage to hold the power pure.”

He was speaking abstractly, but the words felt charged, intimately connected to her family’s legendary protective role.

“The greatest protection is the one that is never broken from within,” Elara mused, instinctively touching the Aetherium crest on her neck.

“Exactly,” Tom affirmed, his gaze briefly resting on the necklace. “And that level of internal fidelity—the unwillingness to betray one’s own pure magical core—is something that seems to be a foundational trait of your family, Elara. That’s a powerful defense.”

He slowed his walk, allowing the conversation to deepen and become slightly more personal.

“Tell me,” Tom said, looking toward the distant forest, his tone thoughtful. “Your friends, Nancy and Robin... they seem like delightful company. But do they truly understand this side of you? This focus on the ancient roots of magic?”

Elara hesitated. It was an uncomfortable truth, but a truth that bonded her to Tom.

“No, not really,” she admitted quietly. “Nancy is focused on gossip, and Robin is more interested in… well, boys. They’re wonderful friends, but they see magic as practical spells and schoolwork. When I talk about ancient bindings or runic intent, their eyes glaze over.”

Tom nodded, a look of profound, shared disappointment crossing his face. It was a subtle expression of empathy that made Elara feel seen and understood in a way her friends never could.

“I understand that isolation completely, Elara,” Tom said softly. He didn't offer any dramatic vulnerability, just the quiet acknowledgment of a shared burden. “It is frustrating to find yourself moving through the world a step ahead of everyone else. To have a mind that craves depth when others are content with the surface. It is a lonely burden that true brilliance often carries.”

He stopped walking and gently placed his hand on her shoulder—a brief, entirely non-romantic, but deeply validating physical contact.

“It is a relief, then, to find a mind that matches my own,” he concluded, his intense eyes holding hers. “You should continue to trust that instinct for depth, Elara. It is your greatest strength, and it is the very thing that sets you apart.”

He removed his hand and resumed his easy stride toward the castle, the perfect, calculated social distance immediately restored.

Tom had watched her go into the library, this was the perfect opportunity to get her on her own. He moved swiftly but deliberately through the rows of shelves, searching for her. And there she was, sat at a table, alone, studying. He wasn’t quick with his actions, he was slow and cunning, looking over the shelves across from the table. He grabbed a book that he wasn’t interested in before turning around. As he rounded the corner of the shelf, he timed his walk perfectly so he would appear to “stumble” upon her table. 

“Solis,” he said smoothly, his voice low and perfectly pitched to suggest quiet study, not surprise. It was simply the greeting of a recognised peer. 

Elara jumped slightly, startled, and looked up from the dense text. She immediately recognised the charismatic Head Boy. Her cheeks warmed slightly, remembering the intense stare from the Great Hall. 

“Riddle,” she replied. Nodding politely. “Hello.” 

Tom offered a polite, mild smile - not the full, intimidating charm, but a courteous expression of academic respect. He gestured subtly to the towering bookshelf behind him. 

“Forgive me, I didn’t see you tucked away here. I was searching for a few obscure references on the history of elemental transfiguration.” He glanced down at her books, his expression shifting to one of genuine concern, not judgement. “You’re studying potions, I see. Binding agents, if this volume is anything to go by.” 

“Yes,” Elara admitted, sighing quietly. “It’s the theoretical element. Professor Slughorn’s lecture on stabilising compounds felt… disjointed. I can manage the ingredients. But I feel like I’m missing the conceptual foundation.” 

Tom leaned slightly against the shelf, adopting a relaxed posture. 

“That’s Slughorn for you. Brilliant man, poor teacher,” he noted, his voice carrying an air of mature, shared understanding. “The issue with binding agents at his level is that they intersect more closely with charms than Slughorn ever admits. You’re attempting to stabilise energy, which is essentially defensive spell work translated into brew.” 

Elara’s eyes widened slightly in immediate, intellectual interest. This was the connection she had been struggling to make. 

“That makes perfect sense,” she murmured, picking up her quill. “If you treat the compound like a contained magical field…” 

“Precisely,” Tom affirmed, nodding approvingly. “The trick isn’t the stirring. It’s the intent you pour into the stabilising charm that holds the potion together. Think less about the heat, and more about the precision of your will. It’s why I suspect you’d excel at it, given your talent for Charms.” 

He paused, letting his quiet praise sink in. Elara felt a flush of pride; he was recognising her intellectual strength, something few others did. 

“The Solis lineage is historically connected to protective and stabilising enchantments, is it not?” Tom asked, his tone academic and curious, not probing. “That kind of deep family legacy often manifests as an intuitive grasp of related magic.” 

Elara instinctively touched the crest of the necklace around her neck. “It is, according to the old stories. My family’s significance is in… guarding things. There is a tale tied to our family” 

“Fascinating,” Tom mused, his eyes briefly flicking to the dark silver crest. “It’s rare to find someone who truly appreciates the deep roots of our magic Elara. Most students only care about the surface.” He used her first name effortlessly, making the exchange feel more personal and focused. 

He pushed off the shelf, preparing to leave. 

“I’ve worked through the N.E.W.T potions syllabus extensively, and I have detailed notes that simplify the theory by linking it back to ancient runes and charms concepts. It might give you the conceptual foundation you’re looking for before the next assignment.” He paused, making the offer sound like an academic favour. 

“I’m usually here in the evenings, working on my thesis,” Tom continued, looking directly into her eyes with a look of serious purpose. “If you were here tomorrow, I could lend you the notes, or briefly run through the key concepts I use to visualise the stabilising process. It would only take ten minutes.” 

Elara felt a sudden, exhilarating rush. To have Tom Riddle’s personal notes, and his concentrated focus, would solve her problem instantly. 

“I’d like that very much Tom,” she said eagerly, “Thank you.” 

“Untill tomorrow then, Elara,” he replied, giving her a brief, efficient nod before disappearing into the stacks. He left her with a clear solution and a deep sense of intellectual validation, having taken the first crucial step: establishing himself as her invaluable academic equal and ally. 

Elara sat there for several minutes, the complex theory of binding agents finally clicking into place thanks to Tom’s concise explanation. She felt a kind of magical energy buzzing beneath her skin, not the rush of an accomplished spell, but the excitement of a profound intellectual breakthrough. This was exactly what she came to Hogwarts for. She quickly packed her books, the evening’s solitary study having turned unexpectedly, fulfilling, and headed towards the Ravenclaw Tower. 

When she arrived in the Ravenclaw common room, she answered the riddle immediately, and the door opened. She hurried up to her dormitory, finding Nancy and Robin waiting for her. The room was already warm and comforting, the girls having finished their dinner and settled in for the evening. 

“Finally!” Nancy exclaimed, sitting up on her bed. “We thought you’d been swallowed by a book. What kept you so long in that musty old library?” 

Robin, braiding a charm into a length of thread, shot her a knowing look. “She probably discovered a new ancient language and forgot to eat.” 

Elara tossed her bag onto her bed, a wide, genuine smile breaking across her face. “Better than that actually. I had a breakthrough in potions.” 

“A breakthrough in potions?” Nancy deadpanned. “Did Slughorn finally invent a cure for boredom?” 

“No, I was stuck on the theory of binding agents, and someone helped me conceptualise it,” Elara explained, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice. 

“Who?” Robin asked, looking up curiously. 

Elara hesitated for just a moment, enjoying the dramatic effect. “Tom Riddle.” 

Silence settled over the dorm. Nancy’s jaw dropped slightly. Robin slowly put down her thread. 

“Tom Riddle?” Nancy squealed, immediately jumping off her bed to cross the room. “The Head Boy? The one who looks like a Roman statue? He talked to you? What did he say? Was he as gloriously handsome up close?” 

“He was… courteous,” Elara said, shaking her head at Nancy’s dramatics. “He was looking for a book and saw my potions texts. He immediately understood what I was struggling with - that the theory connects more to charms than potions, and he pointed me in the right direction. He’s promised to lend me his notes tomorrow evening, as well.”

Nancy clapped her hands together, eyes sparkling. “See, Robin? I told you! The hot one noticed her! He wants to spend time with the prettiest Ravenclaw in the year. He didn’t just want to talk about potions, Elara, he was buttering you up!” He’s trying to court you!”

Elara scoffed, pulling out her pajamas. “Don’t be ridiculous Nancy. He didn’t flirt, he was purely intellectual. He realised that the only person who could possibly appreciate the complexity of his own study methods would be me. We’re academic equals.” 

Robin, however, was quiet. She watched Elara with a slight furrow in her brow. 

“Elara, I don’t like it,” Robin said, her tone serious and devoid of her usual joking manner. 

“Don’t like what? That I’m finally going to master stabilising compounds?” Elara asked lightly. 

“Don’t like him,” Robin corrected. “Tom Riddle doesn’t just help people. He doesn’t lend notes out of the goodness of his heart. He’s too ambitious, too… polished. Everyone knows he only seeks out people he can use.” 

Nancy waved a dismissive hand. “Oh don’t be such a pessimist Robin. He’s Head Boy! He’s the most charming boy at Hogwarts. Maybe he’s just realised how incredibly brilliant Elara is, and wants to spend time with her. It’s about time a boy noticed her brain.” 

“Exactly, Robin, it’s about the work,” Elara insisted, already pulling on her pajamas. Robin’s warning barely registered; it simply sounded like jealousy over a misunderstanding of academic focus. “He sees the depth of my interest in foundational magic, which is something you two have never understood.

“I just think you should be careful,” Robin reiterated, her voice soft but firm. “Charm is often a mask Elara, and you’re far too honest to see through one.” 

Elara smiled reassuringly. “I’ll be careful. I’m only going to the library for ten minutes to get the notes. We are merely discussing potions theory. Beside,” she added with a grin, picking up her favourite book, “I’m hardly going to let Tom Riddle distract me from my studies.” 

Robin didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t argue further. Nancy, however, was already back to weaving fantasies. 

“A private study session with the future Minister for Magic!” Nancy sighed dreamily. “You have to promise to tell us every little detail.” 

“We can’t be together,” he replied bluntly. 

“What?” 

Y/n wasn’t sure if she didn’t hear him properly or she didn’t want to hear what he was saying. 

“We can’t be together anymore Y/n.” 

“You’re pranking me right? This is a weird joke or something,” she tried to force out a laugh, hoping he was indeed joking with her. 

“No Y/n I’m not joking. We can’t be together anymore. I’m sorry but it’s not meant to be.” 

It wasn’t just his words that were cutting through her, it was his blank expression like he’d only asked her about homework. 

“I… I don’t understand. Where has this come from?” Y/n pressed, her eyes becoming glassy. 

“I wish I could give you an answer,” Theo sighed, sitting down on a chair. 

“I just… I just don’t get it Theo. I thought we were happy, I thought you were happy.What did I do wrong?” 

“You haven’t done anything wrong. It’s not you it’s…” 

“No!” she spat, causing Theo to look at her, “You don’t get to pull that ‘it’s not you it’s me’ bullshit. Tell me, what have I done?” 

Theo was silent for a moment too long, trying to think of an answer to give her. “It’s just… it’s just not working. I’m sorry but that’s just the way it is.” 

“No Theo. It’s not just ‘the way it is’. It was you who asked me to be your girlfriend two months ago, not me. If this was how you truly felt, why did you ask me?” Y/n demanded an answer, her sadness quickly turning into anger. 

“Can you not just take my answer Y/n? I don’t want to be with you, now leave.” 

Y/n was stuck between whether to slap him or plead with him. Neither would do her any justice. 

“You’re a prick Theodore Nott,” she stood up from his bed, “I hope you’re fucking happy with yourself.” 

Y/n left his dorm, slamming the door shut behind her. Theo let out a sigh like the whole world was on his shoulders, putting his head in his hands. ‘It’s better this way’, he mumbled to himself. 

-

It had been three months since Theodore Nott had caused a tornado to swirl around Y/n’s world. Three months since he had broken her heart. She felt pathetic to be quite honest, they had only been dating for two months, and what else could she have expected from one of Slytherin’s notorious boys? Theo and his group of friends were notorious for playing with girls’ hearts before they got bored and dumped them like they were nothing. And she felt stupid for falling into his trap. Her friends had warned her that it would happen the moment Theo had asked her to go to Hogsmeade with him but naturally, she didn’t listen to them. She thought Theo was different, though clearly now, he wasn’t. 

Every time he walked past her, every time they had the same class, every time he had another girl under his arm, it felt like a stab in the back. It was like she was invisible, like those two months never happened. 

“Come on Y/n, it’s been three months. I don’t know why you’re still sulking,” Y/n’s fellow Slytherin friend Pansy said to her. 

“I am not sulking,” Y/n rolled her eyes. 

“You so are. Honestly, you were with him for two months. Time to move on. There’s lots of hot guys that would drink a draught of living death just to talk to you.”

“Well if they drank a draught of living death, it would be a bit counterproductive would it not?” Y/n remarked, making Pansy laugh. 

“The point still stands! He’s moved on, so should you.” 

Though that was far from the truth, Theo hadn’t moved on at all. It was very much the opposite. There wasn’t a day that went by where he wouldn’t think of her. Her laugh, her sarcastic comments and the way the whole room seemed to disappear when she smiled. He didn’t break up with Y/n because he didn’t care, he broke up with her because he did. Well, that was what he kept telling himself anyway. Theo was from the House of Nott, a prestigious pureblood family with enough baggage for a centuries worth of members. His family was notorious for delving into the dark arts and had been for centuries. He came from a family where love didn’t exist, only convenience. He had seen it in his parents and in his grandparents, neither had married for love, only power. And the same was expected from him. When he got to know Y/n, that expectation was lost for a while. For a moment, he actually enjoyed being himself around someone who grew to care deeply about. But then the reality of his family came back to haunt him, bringing him back from his dream world that he made with Y/n. Theo never thought he deserved someone like her, that he only deserved what his family allowed. Love in the Nott family only brought pain, and he couldn’t risk her getting hurt. He would never forgive himself therefore he had to let her go, no matter how much it hurt him. 

“Theo… Earth to Theo…” 

“Theo!”

“Ow!” Theo exclaimed after getting a whack on the back of the head from Draco, “The fuck was that for?” 

“You’re away with the fairies again mate, it’s getting a bit embarrassing,” Draco remarked. 

“He’s thinking of Y/n again,” Blaise sniggered. 

“If you are, you need help. You broke up with her you tool,” Draco snorted. 

“Will the both of you shut up for once?” Theo hissed at the pair, getting more annoyed by the second. 

“Oooo not very friendly,” Draco smirked. 

“The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else,” Blaise suggested. 

“Wise words Blaise,” Theo replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes. 

Truth is, he’d already tried that. Nothing worked, nothing could get her off his mind, no matter how hard he tried.

-

“Are you sure you’re not coming? It’ll do you some good to let loose,” Pansy said to Y/n who was laying on her bed feeling sorry for herself. 

“No it’s okay Pans, you go and enjoy yourself,” she smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. 

“Okay then. Well, do I look okay?” Pansy twirled around in her black dress, ready to go to the party in the Hufflepuff common room. 

“You look perfect.” 

“Thank you! Right, well, I better get going.” 

“Enjoy, try to save some firewhiskey for the others,” Y/n joked. 

“Ha ha ha, very funny. See you later.” 

“Bye!”

Pansy left Y/n alone in their dorm. That had been the case for the past three months. She hadn’t felt like doing anything. 

She finally decided to get off her bed, the thought of being at the top of the Astronomy Tower instead of looking at the same four walls suddenly became appealing. Y/n slipped on her cloak and left the dorm, walking through the cold, dark corridors up to the Astronomy Tower. 

The Astronomy Tower was the perfect place for those who wanted a quiet place to be alone. It looked over the valley below which was a view that could make you forget about your problems, even if it was just for ten minutes. 

Y/n let out a sigh as she looked over the valley in front of her. It was the place where Theo had first kissed her, the place where he had asked her to be his girlfriend. Now it was the place that she used to escape her thoughts. Or so she thought. 

“Sorry I didn’t realise someone was up here.” 

Y/n quickly turned around startled at the voice behind her. 

“Theo?”

“Yeah sorry I’ll just…” 

“No!” Y/n yelled a little too adamantly, “No, you can stay.” 

“Thanks,” Theo nodded, walking over to the fencing near her. 

Neither of them said anything for a moment or two, staring out into the darkness beyond them. 

“Didn’t feel like partying then?” Y/n broke the silence. 

“Something like that,” he mumbled, “You?” 

“Something like that,” she repeated his words. 

“I didn’t think you’d want to come back here,” Theo assumed. 

“What makes you think that?” she queried, knowing full well what he meant. 

“Just a hunch,” he shrugged. 

“Oh, you think I wouldn’t want to come here because of you? Still absolutely full of yourself I see.” 

“Sorry I didn’t mean…” 

“You didn’t mean to make everything about you? Well you always seem to do a great job Theo.” 

“I didn’t want us to end up this way.” 

“And who’s fault is that?” 

Theo turned to look at her. The first time he had truly looked at her in three months. 

“I didn’t want to do it Y/n, I did it to protect you,” he told her which infuriated her even more. 

“To protect me? Are you being serious right now? You didn’t want to protect me, you wanted to protect yourself. No doubt Draco and Blaise ripped the shit out of you for being with me, you couldn’t stand the thought of losing your ‘tough guy’ facade,” Y/n accused angrily. 

“What? That’s not true. The fact that you even think that is absurd.” 

“What else am I supposed to think, Theo? You made me believe that I was the only girl on this Earth only to shatter me two months later without a reason why.” 

“I want you Y/n. That’s the problem,” Theo sighed, “My family… They're bad people. I grew up in a house where affection was seen as weakness and where love got people hurt. For centuries, marriage in our family has been for power not for love. My parents… they want the same for me. But when I met you, when I got to know you, for a moment I felt free of them. Like none of that mattered because I had you. But then reality set in. I couldn’t risk you getting hurt, getting caught up in all my family's shit. I wish things were different Y/N, I do.” 

Y/n didn’t know what to say. All the things she expected him to say and that was not one of them. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me the truth Theo?” she pressed. 

“I thought maybe it would hurt less… I don’t know Y/n.” 

“You should have told me. We could have worked it out. We could have at least talked about it.” 

“You wouldn’t understand…” 

“You didn’t give me the chance to try.” 

Theo looked into her eyes, they were glassy with a hopeless sadness lost in them. 

“I’m so sorry Y/n. I wanted to tell you, please believe me. I just didn’t have the courage to,” Theo reached out for her hands, and to his surprise, she let him. 

“You’re not your family Theo. You’re not like them. You can make your own decisions, don’t let them make them for you,” she whispered, leaning her forehead against his. 

“If I asked if we could try again, would you?” 

Y/n didn’t reply, instead she pressed her lips on his, which was the only answer he needed.

===========

A/n: My first Theo fic! Hope you enjoyed 🤍

If you have any requests or questions leave them below or in my inbox 🤍

Fred was oblivious, as he usually was. He thought he saw Y/n as a friend, a close friend yes, but just a friend. He never saw her in any other light and he never had. That was until at the start of their seventh year, Y/n told the group she had been speaking with a Huffleboy boy in their year over the summer. And before their last school year started he had asked her to be his girlfriend. Fred didn’t know how to describe what he felt when he heard, but he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit. 

“So, when are you going to introduce us to lover boy?” Layla wiggled her eyebrows jokingly during breakfast. 

“Will you behave? He isn’t a moving painting to gawk at,” Y/n rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her pumpkin juice. 

“Scared we’ll embarrass you?” Fred scoffed. 

“Yes actually.” 

“Don’t be scared Y/n, I’m sure we will find him lovely!” George exclaimed, trying to sound sincere, but sarcasm dripped through his words.

“Well he is lovely George. But I’ve spent the last six years hoping for a boyfriend to whisk me away and now I’ve found one, I don’t want you feral lot scaring him off!”

“Hey! I hope you don’t mean me!” Layla mocked offence.

“You’re the worst out of all of us,” Y/n smirked. 

Fred didn’t have much else to say during breakfast. What could he say? He didn’t even know what he was feeling nevermind why he felt it. And he certainly couldn’t trust George or Lee not to tell Y/n. 

-

Weeks passed and Fred felt worse. Y/n had finally introduced her boyfriend to the friendship group. His name was Oliver Willows. He was a kind and intelligent boy, he was very polite and much to Fred’s dismay, he was funny. For the sake of their friendship, Fred tried to be supportive of Y/n. He still made jokes around her, he made her laugh, yet now she found Oliver funnier. 

Y/n didn’t notice it at first. And when she did, she made excuses for it. It started before Christmas, when Oliver joined the group, Fred would suddenly need to be elsewhere. When the group planned on going to Hogsmeade with Oliver, Fred wanted to study. Y/n understood at first, it was their final year and NEWT exams afterall. But when it was her birthday, the group had organised her a little party in the Gryffindor Common Room, yet there was one person missing. Fred. He had never missed her birthday before, he was always the first to wish her Happy Birthday, yet now, he didn’t even show his face. 

-

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Y/n finally found Fred on his own in the library. 

“Well, you’ve found me now haven’t you,” he spoke bitterly, not looking up from the book in his hands. 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

“Can I help?” 

Y/n was taken back by his attitude, he was never like this with her. 

“Oh, erm, I just wanted to speak to you about something,” she said, hesitantly sitting down next to him. 

“Is it important? I’m kind of in the middle of something,” Fred sighed, still not looking at her.

“I guess not,” Y/n mumbled, standing up quicker than she sat down before leaving the library immediately. 

What on Earth is going on with him? 

After the last lesson of the day, Y/n headed to the Gryffindor common room and went straight to her dormitory. She laid on her bed, staring at the ceiling as though it would give her the answers she was looking for. She just didn’t get it. Why was Fred being like this? Did she do something she wasn’t aware of? Did she offend him? Y/n didn’t know. But it was not only angering her, it was beginning to make her upset. Fred had never acted like this with her before. He was the one she always turned to when she needed help, when she needed an opinion on something. He was always there for her, so why not now? 

“Y/n, are you okay? The guys are asking where you are downstairs,” Layla entered the dormitory. 

“Let me guess, ‘the guys in question’, Fred isn’t one of them.” 

“No, he’s stu…” 

“Studying?” Y/n scoffed, finishing her friend's sentence for her, “Don’t make me laugh.” 

“Is everything okay?” 

Y/n ignored her question. “Have I done something to upset him?” 

“What? No. I don’t think so anyway. What makes you think you have?” Layla asked, sitting on her friend’s bed. 

“I didn’t notice it at first, or I did and I chose to ignore it. He’s been avoiding me for weeks. Every time we go to do something he’s got an excuse, he never talks to me anymore. I went to the library earlier to talk to him and he shrugged me away. I don’t understand what I’ve done wrong,” Y/n told her, her eyes becoming glossy. 

Y/n didn’t know what to expect as a response from Layla, but her laughing was certainly the last on the list. 

“Is something funny?” Y/n sat up, resting against the headboard, looking at Layla with furrowed brows. 

“It’s obvious isn’t it?” she giggled, “Fred likes you.” 

“What in Merlin’s name are you going on about?” 

“Fred, he fancies you. He’s jealous of Oliver.” 

Y/n looked at her confused, “Stop being stupid Layla.” 

“I’m not! You are so blind, everyone in the group can tell Fred has feelings for you. And I know for a fact you do too, you’ve been following him around like a lost puppy since fourth year,” Layla giggled. 

“I do not like Fred like that! I’m happy with Oliver. Thank you very much. You’ve clearly had a bang to the head, I think you need to go see Madam Pomfrey, I can take you if you like,” Y/n blabbered on, not wanting to think for a moment there was a possibility Fred liked her. 

“Y/n shut up and think for a second,” Layla scolded, “Ever since you told us about Oliver, Fred hasn’t been himself. Everyone in the group can see it. He’s jealous.” 

“If he liked me he would have told me.” 

“What’s your excuse then?” 

Y/n thought about Layla’s words for the rest of the evening. There’s no way Fred liked her. He couldn’t, could he? She didn’t know what to think. And her mind wouldn’t let her rest either. While the other girls slept, Y/n tossed and turned until she finally gave up. She got out of bed and headed down the stairs into the common room. However, it was clear someone else had the same idea. 

“Oh, sorry, didn’t think anyone would be down here,” she blurted out when she saw Fred sat by the fire. 

He looked up, his face showing clear signs of lack of sleep, “It’s fine.” 

“Can I…” Y/n gestured toward the sofa and he nodded lightly. 

Y/n reluctantly sat down, the heat of the fire (and possibly the situation she was currently in) making her cheeks pink. 

The two sat in silence for a while, only the crackle of the fire and the rain tapping on the windows was audible. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” Y/n broke the silence. 

“How did you guess?” Fred replied sarcastically. 

She carefully contemplated her next words, but everything came out at once. 

“Have I done something wrong? Because this is getting tiring now,” Y/n let out, Fred clearly surprised by her tone. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” he shrugged, which angered her even more. 

“Don’t do that. Don’t push me away anymore than you already have.” 

“Y/n…” 

“No Fred, be honest with me. What could I have possibly done to make you treat me like I’m invisible? Like I don’t matter.” 

“That’s not true.” 

“Then why does it feel like it!” she shouted, not bothered about who could hear anymore. 

“Because I love you,” he blurted out, standing up and beginning to pace the room, “I love you Y/n. I have for a while now, I just never realised it until I saw you with him. Every time he makes you laugh or smile, every time he has his arm around you or kisses you, every time he’s near you, I want to shove him against the wall and scream that he doesn’t deserve you. Maybe I don’t deserve you either. But I can’t stand the thought of him being anywhere near you.” 

Y/n couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Layla was right afterall. But Y/n hadn’t planned any of this, she didn’t know what to think, what to say, what to feel. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she whispered barely audible. 

“I didn’t want to ruin the friendship we had.” 

“So you thought you’d ignore me instead?” 

“Sounded like the better option in my head.” 

“Fred… you should've told me,” Y/n sighed. 

“Why? It wouldn’t have gotten me anywhere.” 

Y/n could feel tears filling her eyes. Fred had liked her all along, yet she hated the fact he didn’t tell her sooner. 

“You don’t know that,” she sobbed, wiping her eyes with her sleeve, “Fred, I fell for you from the moment we became friends. You made me feel like I belonged, like I could finally be myself. It broke my heart when you asked Angelina to the Yule Ball. If you’d have just told me…” 

“Then you wouldn’t be with Oliver?” 

“No… yes… maybe. I don’t know Fred,” Y/n sighed heavily. 

“I guess we’re both idiots then,” he half heartedly laughed, slumping back onto the sofa across from her, “I mean, where do we even go from here?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Can we ever go back to how we were?” 

“I don’t know that either.” 

And for a while, the two of them sat by the fire, looking into the flames, hoping to see any sign of an answer. 

===============

A/N: My first Fred fic! A little bit of an angsty ending but I hope you enjoyed it! Feel free to comment or send me requests, I’d love to hear from you guys! 

Happy reading <3 

Y/N had been raised by her aunt, and had lived with her since she could remember. She dreamed of finding the answers of her parents, but every time she had asked her aunt about them, her aunt froze up and walked away from her. She had searched through almost every history book in the library looking for her surname but never had any luck. She had thought it very strange considering she came from a pureblood family. Every other pureblood family had their names engraved in history books, so why wasn’t hers? It was a question that she was desperate for an answer to. 

A few weeks ago, the thought had come to her. She had not looked at all the history books in the library… she hadn’t checked the restricted section. The restricted section, as the name clearly states, was restricted. No student was allowed access to it without permission from a Professor. Of course, that would be the simple and easy option of gaining access but Y/N didn’t want her Professor’s knowing what she was searching for. She could lie of course, but she was a notoriously bad liar. Someone who didn’t know her could tell when she was lying, so that wasn’t an option. The only other way was to sneak in after curfew. That had its risks which is why it had taken her so long to pluck the courage to commit to her plan. 

After, once again, contemplating her decision, she finally picked up her wand and wrapped her cloak around her shoulders before leaving the dormitory as quiet as possible. 

The castle was eerily quiet, only the faint sound of the rain tapping on the windows was audible. “Lumos,” she muttered quietly, as she paced down the many corridors and stairs to the library. 

She thanked Merlin when she walked into the library and the librarian wasn’t there and headed over to the restricted section. She glanced around quickly to make sure no one was around before opening the metal gate. 

It was exactly how she expected it to be…creepy. Shelves upon shelves were cluttered with odd looking books and artefacts. None of which she wanted to touch, nevermind read. But, curiosity killed the cat and she started scanning across the rows of books with the hope there’d be one about pureblood families. Y/N looked for at least ten minutes for something to stand out at her:  Curses for the Most Advanced Wizard, Potions for Certain Death, How to Dispense of Your Enemy. All the books looked deeply disturbing but she was yet to find one about old wizarding families, that was until she saw a bright, red, battered book at the end of a shelf in the corner of the room; Lineage of Pureblood Royalty,  Y/N cringed a little at the title, but thought it was the best hope she had at that moment. She was just about to reach up for it…

“I don’t believe you should be down here,” a male voice condemned, almost making her jump out of her skin. 

“Merlin’s beard!” she shrieked, recognising the boy immediately. The worst possible person it could have been to find her here. Slytherin Prefect, Tom Riddle. 

“And what are you doing in the restricted section after curfew?” he grilled, looking at her intensely making her incredibly nervous. 

“I was just… I was… I… looking for…. I was looking for a potion recipe for homework,” Y/N blurted out. 

“Hmmm, the last time I checked, potion recipes aren’t found in books on Pureblood Royalty.” 

Y/N looked at him with a look Tom had seen on the faces of many others…fear. 

“I um… I’m sorry… I’ll go back to my dorm,” she replied as quickly as she could, stepping forward to walk away but he blocked her exit. 

“And what makes you think I’m going to let you leave without a word about why you’re down here? You’ve broken not one but two school rules. I should be taking you to Dippet’s office right now,” he said, and Y/N swore she saw a smirk for a second. 

Great, Dippet on my case again is all I need, well done Y/N. 

“I’m really sorry. Please don’t take me to Dippet, I’ll do anything. Just please… please don’t report me,” Y/N pleaded. 

Tom paused before speaking, clearly enjoying another student fearing him (she would be the sixth of the day), “Begging will get you nowhere. However, I could be persuaded not to take this to Dippet.” 

Y/N immediately expected him to ask something of her. He was infamous around Hogwarts for it. He never did anything for anyone unless he got something in return. And she was very much correct. 

“Tell me why you were snooping around the restricted section for that book and I may be generous enough to ignore this little excursion," Tom offered. 

Y/N sighed heavily, she knew Tom had a reputation for getting what he wanted, no matter the cost. She also knew she couldn’t lie and risk him going to Dippet. 

“My parents,” Y/N began, “I grew up with my aunt, I’ve never known my parents. I come from the House of Krieger, a pureblood family, yet the name never shows up in any history books in the library so I thought the restricted section may have an answer,” Y/N explained honestly. 

As soon as Y/N mentioned the name ‘Krieger’, Tom hung on to every word and she quickly became much more interesting. 

“Apologies, perhaps I misheard. Did you just say you are part of the House of Krieger?” Tom inquired. 

Y/N looked at him confused. Does he know something? 

“No, you heard correctly,” she confirmed. 

Tom couldn’t help the smirk that appeared on his face which scared Y/N more than she would ever admit. 

“Do you… do you know something? About… my family,” Y/N asked nervously. 

“Krieger is German for warrior. The Krieger name is infamous within pureblood families,” Tom half answered. 

“I never knew… I’ve never,” Y/N couldn’t find the words right away. “I don’t understand. If my family name is so famous, why is it never in any books?” 

Tom’s smirk widened. 

“Do you think you will find the answer in that book you set your eyes on?” 

“I-I don’t know. I was hoping so.” 

“Why don’t you take a look?” Y/N stood still for a second too long. “Get the book.” 

Y/N felt compelled and immediately reached for the book, taking it off the shelf and was surprised by how heavy it felt despite being no larger than a standard school book. 

“Open it,” Tom demanded. 

Y/N opened it straight away. The pages were… blank? She was immediately confused. But, she suddenly got a horrible feeling that shot through her like lightning. Y/N unwillingly reached into her cloak pocket and pulled out her wand, tapping it on the blank page in front of her. A surge of magic coursed through her veins as script began appearing onto the pages of the book. 

Tom watched in awe, thoughts swirling through his mind. She had been the answer he was looking for. What he had been searching for since the moment he had come across the book the first time he had gone into the restricted section. 

“The pages, they were blank…I don’t understand,” Y/N muttered in confusion. 

“There is writing on the pages?” Tom questioned. 

“Can you not see it?” 

“I cannot. Which means only one thing,” he spoke, “You belong to a family that is in that book.” 

What in Merlin’s name? 

“You know something, don’t you?” Y/N presumed. 

Tom nodded. 

“Please, tell me. I’ve been searching since I was a little girl for answers.”

“I shall make you an offer Miss Krieger.” 

Y/N had heard rumours of the kind of offers Tom had given other students, and usually it was Tom that got the better end of the deal. But at that moment, Y/N didn’t care. Any leads she could get about her parents, about her family, she would take. And if making a deal with Tom Riddle was her only option, she would take it. 

“I’m guessing you want something from me?” 

“You make it seem as though that is a bad thing,” he sneered, “I think eye for eye is considerate, do you not agree?” 

“What is it you want?” 

“If I tell you about your family, I want the contents of that book. Do we have a deal?” 

Y/N had a strong feeling of warning in her subconscious. Whatever was in this book was clearly something of high value for someone like Tom Riddle to want it. Was her family connected to what he wanted? Something inside of her was screaming at her to not take his deal, to put the book back on the shelf, taking whatever punishment Dippet would give her, to do whatever she could to get away from whatever it was that Tom Riddle wanted. 

“Deal.”

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My first fic! Hope you enjoyed it! I wanted to leave it at a point where there could be a possible part 2. My inbox is open for requests, questions or if you just want a chat!