// H.P Imagines \\

Part of him -Tom Riddle-

Full credit to writer

"I know what you did." You said the second you stepped into Tom's dorm.
He was the only person in the room at the time you went, sitting on the side of his bed. He just simply lifted his head up from a scroll of paper and raised an eyebrow at you. "And what is that?"
Of years and years of friendship between the two of you since the day you placed your feet in Hogwarts, you always had seen through him. This friendship didn't look like one in the eyes of others as you two were almost always bickering and being mouthy with each other. "I'm not an idiot, I know you're a Parseltongue, and the Chamber didn't open by itself."
"This might come off shocking, but I never said you are an idiot." He answered nonchalantly with grace.
"Oh, right, thanks for the clarification." You rolled your eyes and replied with sarcasm. "I'm serious, Tom."
His eyes darkened as he heard the mention of his name. "I told you not to call me that."
"I know, and I'm still calling you that, Tom. There's nothing wrong with having the same name as your father!" You walked closer to him, stopping right in front of him.
"It matters if belongs to a filthy Muggle man, y/n!" He snapped, his piercing eyes filled with anger.
You whispered, "and this is what it's about. Blood purity."
"What do you want from me? If you want to tell Dumbledore, then do it already!" He argued back, but his expression visibly softened.
"You know I would never," your voice cracked and came out in a barely audible tone.
"I know you wouldn't, how stupid of me to say that." He ran his slim fingers through his dark, smooth hair and looked at you with a mixed feeling. You bit your bottom lip and avoided the eye contact. You felt his hand closed around yours, surprised by the tingly yet warm sensation that appeared as your skin touched his. He stood up, and you leant your forehead against his firm chest. He continued, "I just don't know what's happening to me. There's this part of me that wants to do dreadful things, yet the other part of me has an urge to think of you or-or protect you or, dare I say it, press my lips against yours at all times. I don't know what this feeling is, y/n."
"It's called love, Tom, and the feeling is mutual." You look up, staring right into his eyes. As much as you don't want to admit it, you can feel yourself blushing.
"Does this mean-" He opened his mouth, and you nodded. He instantly rested his free hand on your chin, lifting it up in the process, and pressed his lips against yours. Your eyes fluttered close immediately. At first, he started hesitantly, but when your lips moved in sync, he kissed you in a way that made your knees go weak. He slipped his hand from yours and placed it on the small of your back to keep you balanced.
"I'm sorry for all of this," he said, finally breaking away.
"So am I," you whispered.