Diary Of A Witchy Kid (t.m.r.)

diary of a witchy kid (t.m.r.)

summary: tomothy chalamets diary falls into the wrong hands…or maybe even the right ones… 

happy new years eve/new years! be safe out there. this blog is only four months old and I have enjoyed my stay so far. thank you for the encouraging messages and post appreciations y'all send! omg I can now say I have internet friends because growing up my immigrant parents wouldn't let me have any ahdkfhsfhs 

here’s my attempt at a little more serious fic but it’s not sad or anything just leaning more toward early scheming/taking over the world tom who can’t identify what a crush is ^.^

when avery dropped the book on the table, your eyes nearly bulged out of your skull. tom had a diary? in unison, lestrange, nott, and abraxas moved back in their chairs as if it were a bomb.

“avery what the bloody f*ck?” the blonde looked up at him, “what do you think you’re doing with that thing?”

“i can feel the evil oozing out of its pages…” nott whispered dramatically, grabbing onto reinhard lestranges robes while eyeing the book. you stared at the inanimate item innocently sitting in the middle of the study table. black leather. gold letters of tom marvolo riddle branded as its title. it wasn’t cracking with electricity around it, it didn’t open up to have teeth like the monster book of monsters, and there was no aura around it indicating a hex. why was everyone treating it like a cursed item?

“i thought you lot might’ve been more amused.” averys excited grin had vanished long ago. “there’s got to be hundreds of secrets-“

“except this is toms diary,” lestrange reminded, lightly pulling nott of of him to readjust his collar. “he’ll kill us if he catches us.“

you have never talked to the man the myth the legend one on one. you were new to the school this year, new to slytherin, but he didn’t seem to mind you as an addition to the group, though he never went out of his way to talk to you either. you assumed that being second ranked and distantly related to nott made you tolerable. consequently, your knowledge of tom was small. he was quiet, kept to himself, somewhat dark, and seemed to have a dominant presence over your new friends.

“when who catches you?” a flat voice appeared behind abraxas. your instincts reactively changing the diary into another book. hopefully he didn’t notice.

“merlin, he moves like a prius…” you mumbled to yourself.

“when uh…ravenclaw uh…catches these hands the next match!” nott grinned nervously. your eyes shifted toward your second cousin, curious to see how a situation like this would play out.

“ah, yes, the last one was,” lestrange coughed, “not our best.” the most recent ravenclaw game ended with avery in the hospital wing when a bludger dislocated his shoulder. rather than guarding, he was lost in a trance staring at athena lovegood smiling and waving at him in the stands. 

you watched the boys intently, dead still in their seats, anxious about the little leather book mocking them as it sat idly on the wooden surface. what was so terrifying about him?

tom didn’t respond. luckily for them, he didn’t care about quidditch. the tension is everyone’s shoulders relaxed as he turned around and ran his fingers along the spines of the books.

“i see…” he said dryly. in a panick abraxas snatched the diary off the table and tossed it to avery.

“put it back where you found it,” he whispered.

“no way, he’ll skin me!” avery deflected the task to nott, throwing it to him. nott gripped it by its spine as he glanced over his shoulder to tom who was distracted by the shelf, flipping through one of the books.

“oh hell no!” he passed it to lestrange, but before it could even land from its flight in the air, the slytherin flicked his wand, sending the book into your chest.

“no!” your arms wrapped around it instinctively, the force nearly knocking you out of the wooden chair. not sure what to do, you shoved the diary under your jumper. why did they have to involve you?

“is something wrong, (y/l/n)?” tom asked, returning the book to its spot. you froze on the spot. it might’ve been the first time he had acknowledged you by name.

“no.” you responded.

“then why did you say no?”

“me? i didn’t say that.” riddle quirked an eyebrow at you. to the average persons eye, you were your average teenage girl—good grades, gets along well with peers, but there was something else. and it wasn’t just your grades. you were effortlessly likeable by peers, charming even. professors liked calling on you and offering you more challenging work, treatment only tom received. yet of all the groups you could have inserted yourself in, you chose his. and they gladly accepted you. why? something was different, off even, but he didn’t look into it because it didn’t seem to pose as a threat. deep down, you reminded tom of himself and he didn't know how to feel about it.

“i am confident you did.”

“oh, it’s because lestrange asked if i’d be his girlfriend, so i said no.” the corner of your mouth twitched in amusement. it wasn’t much, but seeing reinhard lestrange get flustered was revenge in it of itself.

“is that true, lestrange?” tom asked.

“….yes…” he sighed in defeat, sending a deathly glare your way.

“tough…” the salazar heir tsk’d, nearly letting a grin slip at the thought of you rejecting lestrange.

*.*.*.*

the following days were surpringly not awful. tom didn’t seem to notice his missing diary, and if he did you weren’t a suspect. you didn’t know exactly what to do with it. slipping into the head boys room and placing it in a “misplaced” area was stupid. tom didn’t seem like the person to misplace things, so he would definitely get suspicious— that is if he didn’t already sense someone forcefully entered his dwelling. avery claimed that he found the diary wedged in one of toms unattended textbooks during a late night study session. surely, you could put it back into one of his books if you got close enough. you just had to get the timing right.

while you waited for that window, you read the diary. accidentally, that is.

the third day after the hot potato journal in the library, your elbow knocked over your stack of books while writing your divinations essay, the book fell open.

june 22

i hate coming back here every summer…

no, this is wrong... you shut the diary and think for a minute. 

to read this is public that is. 

you have never ran to your room so quick, which was fortunately empty.

june 22

i hate coming back here every summer. the moment i step into wools orphanage i search for the nearest spoon to kill myself with.

yikes, starting off strong i see.

june 23

madam spinsky has me washing the floorboards like orphan annie. my welcome back present from “my vacation” at “boarding school”.

june 25

abraxas has invited me to the stay at the manor. his father will take care of my transportation. maybe i’ll put the spoon down for this summer.

each entry was short, but enough to put together the important parts of tom riddle. he was an orphan, a master charismatic, and most importantly-- wizard prodigy whose talents went beyond hogwarts curriculum. he seemed to always be scheming, sought after something larger. but rather than be frightened, you were intrigued.

september 1

there is a new girl. she is attractive.

you shut the book close, eyes wide. you look up finding a 5’5 brown haired girl in pajamas.

“janey, hi,” you say breathlessly. how long has your roommate been standing there? what time was it?

“are you alright, (y/n)? you’re sweating.” she stared in concern. her eyes fell to the book in your hands, smartly disguised as a romance novel. your eyes followed.

“steamy chapter,” you grin sheepishly. not the proudest of lies you have ever told, but it did the trick.

“oh, right…” she smiles awkwardly, cheeks going red. janey proceeded to slip under covers and kill the light in her bedside lantern. from the corner of the room you were sitting in you looked around and realized your two other roommates were also fast asleep.

the next day you went to the one person you could trust.

“what the bloody hell-“ nott cursed as he felt something grip onto his ankle. “oh sh-“ he was cut off by his fall to the ground and screamed as he was dragged underneath the table.

“(y/n)! you lunatic! you ever think of contacting me, i don’t know… literally any other way?” he exhaled.

“yeah yeah whatever, i’m hiding from riddle remember. anyway, look at this…” you opened the diary.

october 4

myrtle elizabeth warren grinds my gears.

you flipped forward a couple of pages as your cousins eye brows furrowed at the sheets of paper.

october 14

(y/n) (y/l/n) did wandless magic when she thought she was alone. she might be of use.

“this one,” you pointed to the entry. “what does it mean?” nott moved closer, taking the book and bringing it up to a more comfortable eye level.

“(y/n), this page is blank.”

“hardy har har you’re a real jester, nott.” you rolled your eyes. but the concerned look on his face told you he wasn’t joking. you took the diary back and looked down at the words that were 100% there. not worried, you flipped through the pages. they were all filled.

“they’re all blank. i believe you, but i don’t see anything.” well at least he didn’t think you were crazy.

“interesting…” you whisper to yourself. returning the book was pushed even further in the back of your mind. it was one thing to want to avoid tom because of a school boy crush, but another if he was plotting something and wanted you involved.

that night you were finishing the last two weeks of entries. tom had stopped writing five days prior to Avery taking it. he talked about a chamber, but didn’t go into detail. despite feeling like you have gotten to know tom on a deeper level that any other student has (with exception to his friends), it still felt like the diary was reserved. it seems that tom riddle didn’t even trust himself enough. rightfully so i guess, because what has two thumbs and read the whole thing? this guyyy...

after october 28, the last entry, you turned the page. just cuz.

give it back

ummm that doesn’t make sense. maybe we’re seeing things. you flipped the page back to october 28, then back to the next.

the ink seemed to be appearing as if an invisible hand were writing.

i know you have it, whoever you are

with that, you shut the diary and put all your books in your enchanted bag, slinging it over your shoulder. the diary was where it always was—tucked in your waistband under your jumper. you swiftly made your way out of the back of the library scanning your path as you walked briskly.

“you…” a voice spoke from down the corridor. your head whipped to the left seeing a very familiar head boy stalking his way toward you. you were lost in shock, the library door closing with a thud woke you up.

“expelliarmus!” you waved your hand sending the wand flying out of his hand, anticipating that he might stun you. distracted for half a second from astonishment, you made a run for it. your mary janes pounded the stone floor as you sprinted down the corridor. you were sure riddle went to retrieve his wand, giving you a few seconds as a head start. but soon enough, you heard his footsteps coming after you.

“(y/l/n)!” your heart was beating in your ears as you felt your abdomen burn. the sensation grew to your chest as you pumped your legs even farther. eventually you found yourself heading toward the astronomy tower. “stop running!” you could sense him getting closer.

“expelliarmus!” the clink of the wooden object smacking against the wall distracted him again. “and stop doing that!”

you reached the top of the tower. the midnight chill hitting your face. you wrapped your arms around yourself in an attempt to shield yourself from the cold, slowing down as you realized there was no where else to run. you had to face whatever was to come.

tom caught himself against the wall as he made his way to the top of the steps. wand in hand.

defensively you brought yours up, prepared to duel.

“what are you doing?” tom looked at you blankly, now approaching you.

“locomotor mortis!” you chanted. he blocked it effortlessly.

“stupefy!” deflected. he keeper moving forward.

“expelli-“ a sharp breath passed your lips as you felt your upper body tip back. your upper and lower body teetering, your lower back keeping the balance against the ledge. tom grabbed onto your forearms pulling you toward him. you gasp, slowly looking up at him. why didn’t he let you fall, or push you even?

“aren’t you going to kill me?” you whispered. there haven’t been many times you have seen a a fully expressed emotion on tom riddles face. but if you weren’t quaking in your boots at the moment, you’d be more surprised at his stunned expression.

“breaking curfew isnt exactly the most heinous of crimes, (y/l/n).” your face dropped along with the tenseness in your body. 

oh. well this is awkward.

“why did you chase me then?” you looked at him like accusingly.

“because you ran first, and disarmed me before doing so.” he narrowed his eyes, “and correct me if i’m wrong (y/n), but you have been avoiding me this past week.” you gulp nervously. you have never had a personal conversation with the wizard, nonetheless be this close to him. it was beginning to feel overwhelming.

his breath was cool, you can smell mints as it fanned your face. his grip was strong on your arms, and his chest was inches from touching yours. tom sensed your unease and used it toward his advantage.

“what are you hiding?” he asked in a lower tone, pulling you closer to him. your noses were nearly touching now. tom looked down between you two.

“what is this?”

the diary.

before you could react, tom guided his hand down to the hem of your jumper. you froze still. his eyebrows were furrowed, watching his own movements. the moment his fingers met the grooves and texture of the leather bound book, his eyes shot up to yours, piercing into them. tom leaned into you more, holding the diary up beside his head. you inhaled sharply. wow he smells nice.

“you are able read it,” he mused, grinning.

“indeed” was all you could breathe out. even in the most terrifying of times your responses were always entertaining to him. you didn’t even deny it.

was he not surprised that you had it this whole time? was he even looking for it? would it even matter if it became lost if no one could read it? hotel? trivago.

“no one should be able to read it, but you can…” tom studied your face. it was an enchanted diary, made specifically for the owner and the owners eyes only. “i knew there was something about you (y/n) (y/l/n).”

it appears this diary was trouble this whole time, just in a different way the slytherin boys have warned about. it’s one thing to be an enemy of tom riddle, but something else to be of his interest.

instant family (t.m.r.)

parent figure tom? pretty short with a lil sum sum at the end. there’s not enough dad!tom content so I tried to make my own. dad!tom makes me think of two people-- edward father cullen (first part) and Klaus daddy michaelson (second part). anyway...

“hand me the child.” you would have happily obliged if the crying baby wasn’t already seized from your arms. you were about to go off on him, but the site in front of you softened the crease in between your eyebrows. strong forearms cradling the length of the baby’s body, and a hand impressively supporting the neck and head. you have never seen tom so delicate, yet protective. it was almost funny seeing tom and his tall ass self with such a small little thing.

“you do small bounces,” tom demonstrated, the infants cries lowering to heavy breaths of sniffles.

your pride usually would’ve gotten the best of you, pushing you to say something along the lines of not needing toms help. the first two days he avoided the child like it had the plague. he didn’t even want to take in silas in the first place.

“please tom, walburga is my friend, and you know how her family is. the Black family won’t have a scandal. the baby has nowhere to go!” he finally agreed, but made it clear he wanted nothing to do with the baby. you knew what you were getting into. tom not being the biggest fan of children was never news. he didn’t hate them, but he didn’t seem like one to volunteer at a nursery either. maybe it was because he was forced to be around them growing up at Wool’s…that’s what you figured.

“and white noise, they like that,” he added, voice no louder than a whisper, eyes focused on silas’ face the whole time. you stood there mouth gaping like a fish. the baby had been bawling for hours. you tried feeding him, shaking his one toy left from his mother, and nothing seemed to satisfy him for more than two minutes. he did seem to have fun pulling on your hair until he nearly scalped you, forcing you to open his little hand. that’s what really upset him. and here comes tom riddle who apparently not only talks to snakes but also speaks baby.

“how are you so good at this?” you spoke softly, mimicking toms tone. you gently placed a hand on his shoulder to take a peek at the baby who was fighting sleep as if he had other places to be.

“at the orphanage, there was a newborn named gabriel.” the words came out of toms mouth effortlessly. the few times he talked about his time in london were not of detail. and he was usually much more guarded and careful with his delivery. “because of the war, the orphanage didn’t have the staff to take in another child, especially an infant. so i looked after him,” silas coo’d and stretched his small arms, twisting in toms arms. he settled down soon after, sleep winning.

you were lost at words. tom didn’t like sympathy he saw it as pity. you didn’t want to push more questions either. his vulnerability to talk about Wools was enough really.

“thank you for sharing that with me my love,” the best you could do, as you leaned into his arm watching the baby’s sleeping form. tension released from toms shoulders.

“rest now, syphilis,” he whispered, running a hand over the infants small head. you smiled at his affection, then lifted your head abruptly to look at your partner.

“tom, his name is silas…”

“oh.”

bonus headcannon 

in another life where tom is not so experienced and has a son

tom as a new parent was interesting. he may have read every book in the library on parenting, but let’s be real, nothing could ever fully prepare one for a baby. “oh no, no stop crying. y-y/n! come here! it’s crying!” he panicked, relief crossing his face the moment you walked in.“it??”

but seeing tom not being perfectly good at something was amusing. well, maybe not for him though...“it’s not going on,” tom says says in between grunts. he was currently trying to twist the baby’s foot into the shoe. his son just sat there like a sack of potato’s staring down at his father helplessly. “and he’s not even helping!”

although he did get frustrated at times, tom riddle discovered that parenthood is not a task, but rather a journey. and there were definitely rewards in addition to being a dad. “you should’ve seen it, he was crawling!” you dropped your bag onto the couch and walked toward him. “really?! where i wanna see!” tom grinned excitedly. “right over…oh no where did he go…” tom whipped his head around looking for the toddler. the familiar mop of curly black hair was spotted near the staircase, crawling at superhero speed. “no no no stairs is next week’s lesson!”

of course, what is a riddle heir without a father that wishes nothing but success for their child? “my son, one day you will rule the masses…” he spoke softly to the one year old passed out in his arms. “tom…” you warned.

read hierarchy of need by iimplicity if you haven’t 😩😩

got beef? (t.m.r.)

I am back hello. I moved on campus and girlbossed too close to the sun. Anyway this is unedited and kinda cray. 

summary: tom and y/n are called to the headmasters office when their son gets into an altercation

“that is preposterous. i demand a refund now!” you demand dramatically, banging your fist on dumbledores desk. the sheer force of your theatrics causing his cup of butterscotch wrapped candies to topple over.

the old man sighs and flicks his wand restoring its position. he looks up again but this time eyes looking through his half moon spectacles at your husband.

“some things never change do they riddle?” he comments on your emotional response. but in all honesty dumbledore was amused, he missed your student days when he had to fight a smile whenever you got in trouble over stupid things in his class and had the most interesting of ways retelling the story.

“i suppose not” tom gently pulls you back to your seat, keeping his hand wrapped around your forearm comfortably. you looked down at the gold band on his finger and the tension in your body suddenly left.

“…through sickness and health, richer and poorer…” tom recited, sliding the ring onto your finger. a chester cat smile grew in your face as you did the same.

“now you’re trapped with me…” you whispered.

“what was that?” the priest asked. but tom was unfazed he was used to your bs by now.

“well back to the matter…” headmaster clears his throat. “as i was saying, your son may be looking at suspension-”

“sir, i remember students would always hex each other. you know how young boys are.” tom defended.

“ah but see, tommy hilfiger riddle didn’t hex anyone.”

“i don’t understand-“

“it was a physical altercation. more specifically, he struck another student in the nose...”

“wonder where he learned that from…” tom mumbled, earning a jab to the ribs causing him to jump.

“good for nothing mudblood!”

“hey orion…” the boy stopped his stalking away and turned.

“what mudblood?”

“do you happen to be hungry?” he looked at you skeptic, then grinning looking at his friends who were joshing him. all except tom riddle, who was watching you curiously.

“why (y/l/n) going to make a sandwich-“

“nah but i got beef!” you pop him square in the face, the crunch sound echoing the halls, a grin playing on toms face.

“can we at least talk to the parents? i’m sure they will understand-“

“mum!” the door burst open, your eleven year old carbon copy of his father ran to you for a hug. the warm moment dissolved when you remembered why you were there in the first place.

“the child was lucius malfoy.”

“son of a—tom do you know what this means? his father is-“

“where is the boy?” a man bellowed entering the door. Wow so many interruptions today.

tom sat up straighter in his seat as your son ran behind you. platinum blonde hair…and an expensive ass robe…you must be a malfoy!

“it’s been a while abraxas.” your husband stood up and went toe to toe with the old classmate. clearly sizing each other up. oh, men 🙄. tom stuck out his hand and grinned at the couple of inches he had on malfoy. the blonde sneered, accepting the handshake anyway.

his blue eyes moved, landing on you, his schoolboy crush, barely even noticing the little one gripping your arm. he smirked. smirked.

“(y/n)…always knew you’d be a milf-“

your eyes grew wide, but only doubled in size when toms fist flew across his face. your son looked up to see your reaction, in which you looked back at him with a smirk.

“kiss me if i’m wrong but-“

draco immediately cuts you off with a peck to the lips. you blink at him.

“well that’s a bit of an insult, but i’ll take it”

my friend hugh (d.l.m.)

a long long time ago someone talked about draco working at starbucks and hating it. that was my inspo for this, so shout out to that user ❤️

“hugh janus.” the blonde repeats for the second time. he double checks the name on the drink.

“well im not bloody blind… online order for hugh janus! HUGE ANUS— oh bollocks kill me now.” draco turns back to the kitchen, too irritated to be embarrassed by the laughing customers that would hopefully be gone by the time he returned from break.

draco: ha ha very funny zabini

malfoy tossed his employee hat onto the table along with his green apron.

theo: what happened

blaise: happy first day bby

draco: 1 Image Attached

theo: HUGH JANUS

the following half hour was just as bad; hectic, busy, and annoying.

“aaaand i’ll have a cake pop”

“alright,” draco clicked around the screen.

“no a brownie-“

“ok-“

“no both!” the girl in her early teenage years clapped. malfoy simply gave her a blank look and and processed her payment. his annoyed stare never leaving her face as he did, making her scurry off in intimidation after she grabbed her receipt.

he was sure to put her sticker order over the logo on her drink to ruin her snapchat post.

“jake we need you at the window,” the guy who trained draco brushed by his shoulder. in fairness, he forgot his name too.

“you must be the new guy,” the girl working at the window took off her headset, “here you go, i’ll be back in 15!”

the slytherin took the worn out device and stared at it. ooh chile the ghetto, he thought. it was still warm too.

he had no idea what he was doing. draco was only trained for half an hour prior to his first shift and it was for cashier and handling mobile orders. so for the first ten customers, he gave them whatever drinks that came to the “ready” counter first. the other employee can deal with the complaints when she returns from break, that is if the customers are willing to get back in the long line.

as he served the orders in a panicked fashion, he couldn’t help but feel bad for all the times he criticized and made fun of minimum wage workers. he would definitely rethink how he would treat the people he would usually yell at or threaten whenever he lost patience. or not, who knows.

“draco?” a voice sobered him from his frantic state. he leaned forward out the window and squinted at the driver.

“pansy?”

“merlin, had no idea you worked here. or worked in general…”

“yeah blaise and theo bet on how long i’d last,” he explained slightly embarrassed at her slipped comment. grabbing the vanilla bean frap, he handed it to her.

“oh this isn’t what i ordered, but how is it working here? i’ve been think of-“

“girl don’t!” pansy’s eyes widened at the sudden emotion. “they have me slaving here. don’t do it.” he warned, stepping back to close the window sliding door. turn on his heel, malfoy took in a breath when he was met face with the shift leader.

•••

“couldn’t have been that bad…right?” you look down at draco who’s head is in your lap, as you play with his hair under the book you’re reading.

“apparently five people got allergic reactions because i gave them the wrong drinks.”

“oh…” you say awkwardly, suppressing your laugh.

“was one of the people hugh?”