Riddle's Secret

September 1, 1944

Fair warning: This is NOT a slow burn or a sweet romance. Very mature sexual content, so if that isn't what you are looking for, I would stop reading! 

Also, Tom Riddle isn't nice in this story. He is toxic and degrading. 

God, I can't believe I am posting this. Apologies in advance! 

....

Elizabeth Lewis and Tom Riddle, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Fall of 1944. 

My entanglement with Tom Riddle started sometime in my sixth year at Hogwarts. I can't really explain how it happened. I was a Gryffindor, and didn't find the Slytherin prince nearly as charming as the rest of the school did. But one night as I was fulfilling my duties as prefect and making my rounds of the castle, I came across Tom alone in a dark corridor. He had me pressed against the wall in about three minutes, with one hand wrapped around my throat and the other sliding up my skirt. And the rest is history, so to say.

....

It was the first night of the fall term, and I was stretched out on my bed, still in my school uniform and robes, chatting with my roommates about our summer holidays.

"I am so jealous of your tan, Elizabeth." Mary said to me. "You're positively brown."

I looked down at my legs, and realized they were quite bronzed from my summer in the south of France with my family. Mary, however, was a true English rose and turned pink if the sun even thought about hitting her smooth skin.

"Oh, but Mary, you have the most beautiful skin!" I tried to reassure her.

She just rolled her eyes and continued to direct her wand at her red hair, forming it into magical twists that pinned themselves to her head.

My other two roommates were also getting ready for bed, but I hadn't started getting ready for bed just yet.

Mary was telling us about how she spent her summer in the Cotswolds with her ancient Gran. She was complaining about the strong scent of mothballs that the house possessed when there was a light tap on the window of our dorm. There was a school owl there, with a roll of parchment in its beak.

"Now who could that be at this hour?" Lillian, another of my roommates and a good friend, asked as she dabbed some cream to her high cheekbones.

"Merlin knows," I said, as I jumped down off of my bed and quickly threw open the window before anyone else could get there. I grabbed the parchment and unrolled it quickly.

"Well, what's it say?" Hazel, my last roommate asked from her perch in front of her own mirror.

"Oh, it's about some Prefect meeting with the Heads of Houses tomorrow morning. Really unnecessary to send an owl so late."

That was one thing I had learned since starting to sleep with Tom Riddle; I was an excellent liar.

No one knew about us. We had both made sure of that.

I quickly folded the note and stuck in my trunk before any of them could see the two words that were actually scrawled across the parchment.

Library. Midnight.

....

I hid out in the common room with a book until just before midnight, and then I quietly crawled out of the portrait hole and started making my way through the dark, silent castle. My anticipation built with each step closer to the library. Closer to him.