tom riddle imagines

21: professor (c.c.)

He knew it all along.

"So good of you to join us," he smiled, his eyebrows shooting up innocently.

"Right," you muttered as you gradually sunk into your seat.

"Good afternoon students," he began as he crossed his arms. "I'm Professor Riddle, and it seems like..."

He paused for a moment, subtly gazing down onto his desk. Silently, he quickly analysed the paper before gazing up to the students. "...I'll be your permanent Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

Once again, silence fell upon the room, lurking between students who were keen on chattering, but were terrified. As for you, there was nothing fearful about him physically—the man was nothing but a mere graduate with a briefcase filled with messily written notes and appallingly thick books. It wasn't his features, no, but his energy he emitted. A sinister, unfamiliar energy that overwhelmed you; a tireless distress of mystery and unresolved emotions tormenting you, with a touch of anxiety. Words couldn't possibly describe the energy he radiated with accuracy, and you reckoned it would relentlessly grow more intense.

"Now, turn to page three hundred and ninety four," he said finally, breaking the silence once and for all.

Time gradually flew by, leaving you restless by the second. You were merely grateful the professor hadn't spent a second focusing on you; it appeared he valued his ambition, despite being utterly vexed this morning. Flipping through pages as the soothing, yet firm voice of the man filled the ears of these adolescents, time felt endless. At last, the last stroke of the clock announced the end of that nerve-wracking class. Without hesitation, you began stacking your books together before the man could get a chance to glance at you. Before you knew it, you and the professor stood alone in the vast classroom as an overwhelming awkwardness filled the room. A small, sly smirk grew on the man's face as he gazed down at his books.

Hastily, you got up on your feet and dashed towards the door without a second thought or a glance back, only to find the doors slammed before you, leaving you utterly no way out.

"Heading somewhere?" he asked sinisterly, his voice deepened.

"Yea, out," you replied, shooting him a glare.

"Not after how you treated me before class," he growled, slowly drawing closer to you. His smile gradually curved downwards as the same flicker of red in his eyes greeted you like an old friend. Panic rose in you as adrenaline coursed through your veins; the room felt more and more constraint, despite being vast and spacious. Perhaps it was the unsettling effect your professor had on you, or simply the immensely overwhelming anxiety rushing through your blood. Either way, you found yourself glancing in all directions relentlessly, losing conscious as a black gust engulfed your eyesight from the very corners. It was only a matter of time until you were helplessly trapped in an abyss.

______________

"Can you hear me, Y/N?" a familiar voice echoed from a distance, drawing closer and closer. "Wake up."

You inhaled sharply as your body shot up, gawking in utter disbelief and fear. Before you sat the last person you saw—Professor Riddle—gaping at you with widened, concerning eyes. You found yourself on the ground, your back supported by the man's hands. Hot sweat trickled down your neck as it soaked through your white shirt.

"Merlin's beard..." you panted tiredly, your eyes drooping.

"You passed out; I thought of bringing you to the hospital wing but... who knows what would come out of that mouth of yours?" he said, arching his eyebrow. 

"N-nothing would have- I won't tell anyone anything," you stuttered. Stammers spilled out of your trembling lips like a poured jug, splashing vulnerability all over yourself. In Professor Riddle's eyes, you had already painted yourself weak. Foolish. It was utterly against his nature to surround himself with the weakened energy, yet somehow he found intrigue in you. His inquisitive gaze met yours inevitably as his grasping support on your back loosened. Subconsciously, his hand found its way up to your face as his fingers gently cupped your chin.

"I see something in you," he muttered as his gaze deepened, almost analysing your soul. "Tell me, which family do you belong to?"

"I'm a... Potter."

"A Potter?" he asked as his brows shot up, "that's a first."

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a/n
i apologise for taking forever to update! there might be another imagine coming up this week to make it up to you guys :) if it doesn't make it here, i apologise in advance; school has been a pain in the ass and i'm mentally losing it. anyway, holy shit 100k? readers? this is a massive checkpoint for me as three years ago, the highest i've gotten was 2k. thank you so much for the support! and i'm really grateful yall don't rush me for another imagine:,) okay, gonna leave this here with a mwah and a stay hydrated bitches.