Chapter Text
CW; Detailed Drowning
lotta fluff, obsessive Tom, fem reader
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It was a cold February afternoon; classes were done for the day and many students had decided to hang out by the black lake as they relaxed from a long day of lessons and cramming for the upcoming exams. Tom was among these students, standing by a few of his “friends”(followers) by the docks, he could see his breath in the barely warm sun and his layers of wool uniform did almost nothing to keep out the cold.
And his “friends” were bloody daring him to jump into the lake for a handful of galleons that Tom doesn’t really need. “No.” Tom said sternly, crossing his arms, his pale complexion red and flushed from the blood rushing to his face to keep warm.
“Oh come off it Tom, it’s just a little swim in the lake, so you catch a cold, what’s the worst that could happen~?” One of the boys taunts Tom, another holding a bag of galleons, and another lightly shoving Tom towards the almost frozen lake.
Drowning, hypothermia, freezing to death, pneumonia; many things could go wrong-including the fact that Tom didn’t know how to swim. But they didn’t need to know that, they didn’t need to know one of his ‘weaknesses.’ “I’m not getting in that-foul water, who knows what filth has been growing in there over the years. Besides, it’s freezing, I could catch more than a simple cold. I’ll be lucky if I don’t lose a finger diving into those waters.” Tom said, looking toward the black lake-which had a very thin sheet of ice covering its surface-even the smallest tap of a finger would break the tension.
He feels a sudden mischievous feeling emanating from the boys behind him and he turns, about to warn them to knock off whatever they planned but they had already grabbed him by the elbows and armpits-dragging him towards the end of the docks-the other students watching in awe as Tom Riddle was thrown into the almost frozen black lake-he sputtered as he broke the surface-his eyes snapping shut as he went under.
He couldn’t swim.
The wool of his blazer and vest, along with the rest of his uniform, soaked up the freezing water he was surrounded by and he was dragged down further below the surface-panic clutching his chest as he desperately reached for the surface-holding his breath as he went deeper. He could see the silhouettes of his “friends” at the end of the dock-all of them laughing.
Not one of them dived in after him, not one of them seemed to think. And Tom had a feeling his greatest fear was about to come to life-he was going to die. Oh, Merlin he was going to drown-he didn’t want to die-he didn’t want to die!!
Pressure pushes on his head and lungs as he sinks deeper into the black lake-the lush that lay beneath the surface curling around him like a snare-his vision fading with each passing moment-the afternoon sun that beamed through the surface getting further away.
‘please-someone-help’
Tom desperately prayed for intervention-his wand had fallen from his pocket when his “friends” had tossed him into the waters and he had yet to master wandless magic-he was helpless-totally helpless as the black lake consumed him.
The pressure burned at his lungs and his mouth involuntarily opened so he could breathe-water filling his lungs and he choked, writhing in the water as the dark consumed him, his vision blurring-his ears ringing so loudly.
Was he going to die? He didn’t want to die; he really didn’t want to die-he was only 16-he had so much left to do.
‘please-please please-I don’t want to die’ Tom begged to whatever gods were listening, his body hitting the lake floor-his robes floating around his body, his vision starting to go black.
‘Please…please…please’
Above him-the surface tension of the water broke as someone dove into the waters after him-swimming down towards him as he was consumed by the pitch-black water. They had no care for their own safety as they swam towards him-grabbing his robe and pulling themselves toward him when they were finally close enough-peeling off his outer clothes and then planting their feet when they had a good grip around him and rocketed up-Tom fully unconscious by the time he was above the surface. His body was already ice cold and while his heart still beat-he wasn’t breathing anymore.
He was laid back against the shore-the screaming voices of the students who had watched him drown unable to reach his ears-his savior put their ear to his chest and listened, sighing in relief when they heard his heartbeat and then they pinched his nose-breathing into his mouth and then pressing on his chest in a continuing beat; pressing hard and constant-30 beats and then they checked his breathing-nothing.
They pinched his nose again and breathed into his mouth-forcing air down into his lungs and then another 30 compressions-another check for air-breathe-30 compressions.
Tom felt the darkness consuming him suddenly disappear and he choked up water-coughing painfully as his lungs burned, his savior pushed him to lay on his side-harshly patting his back as he coughed up more lake water, each one rattling his chest. He shivered as the cold late winter air set into his skin-clinging to his soaked-through uniform and freezing him to his bones. He heard his savior say his name-it was the voice of a girl, that much he could tell-and he opened his eyes, his savior was silhouetted by the afternoon sun; her features blurred to him.
She looked like an angel.
Tom was unconscious by the time something dry and warm was wrapped around him and he was carried to the hospital wing-and when he woke up, he had a nasty headache and everything felt clogged. The school healer told him he was lucky to only catch a nasty cold, and nothing worse. His “friends” had all been punished for their careless act and Tom was to remain in the hospital wing until he was cleared after his near death from drowning.
He hardly listened to any of that-the only thing he could think about and hear was his savior-her voice echoing in his head, saying his name. He groggily asked about the girl who had saved his life but the healer shrugged-telling him everyone had been too distracted making sure Tom was okay after drowning.
Tom frowned, still very dazed and he swiveled his head around-seeing many many get-well cards on his bedside tables-either from his “friends” or from his admirers. But he wondered if any of them were from his rescuer-the…siren that saved him. Her voice wouldn’t leave his head, the mystery girl who rescued him consumed his being-leaving him to wonder who she was.
Her features had been obscured by the sun and his own blurry visions, but he remembered her voice all too clearly-the voice of a siren, of a mythical creature that ensnared his mind and body, making him unable to think of anything else as he recovered in the hospital wing.
“What do you remember of her? Anything at all, her house maybe?” Tom asked the boys who had thrown him into the water-his anger toward them momentarily forgotten in his obsession to find his siren rescuer. “No, we didn’t really look at her, but she did have a Slytherin scarf,” one boy said, but he provided enough information for Tom to shoo them away.
She was Slytherin, she was in his house. That was good, that was good. Now he just had to find her-he HAD to. Her silhouette was burned into his eyelids-her voice haunts him-he cannot get over this mystery girl, and no one seems to recall who saved him-he’s stuck-he’s obsessed.
He cannot get her out of his head.
Tom can’t stop thinking about her. When he closes his eyes at night, he sees her blurred form over him, holding him up, and staring at her with his fading consciousness. She’s become the obsession that lives in his head, the person he thinks about on repeat. She appears in his dreams, and he’s determined to find her.
As soon as he’s out of the hospital wing-he begins his search-looking for the girl who had captured his mind as soon as she appeared before him in his blurry vision. Her voice haunted him like-a siren-unknowingly taking his heart and soul-he must find her, he must.
She becomes the only thing on his mind, everything else takes a back seat as he looks for his siren-because that’s what she is-a siren, her voice ensnared him immediately having to say his bloody name before he was madly obsessed with her.
His plans, his other obsessions-his studies- all of it disappears as he searches for the girl who saved his life. It must’ve been a fellow student and she must’ve been in his year, his age-anything that leads him closer to his siren he claws at, a clue, any hint, anything that will reveal her to him; he clings to.
He has to find her-he must-he’s never felt this way before-about a girl, he didn’t even know he could feel this way. Her silhouette is burned into his mind-her voice won't leave his soul-he can’t think about anything else than her.
Immortality, Horcruxes, the chamber, Slytherin, power, glory-none of it even crosses his mind. All he can think about is the girl, the siren. She had thrown him into uncharted waters-this obsession-he didn’t know how to handle any of his feelings, he never had to deal with feelings like these before.
He searches for her all over the school-straining his hearing to try and hear her voice above the crowds, he cannot even focus in class-he’s lucky he’s wickedly smart-all he can think of is her, and he looks around for any sign of his mystery rescuer.
But she seems to evade him at every turn, no one knows who saved him, and he cannot find a trace of her anywhere-nor can he find her voice that haunted him. He sighs as he collects himself in the library-forcing himself to study and ignore the growing obsession that burns his soul.
But then he hears it, a soft voice-a singing voice-he turns, his soul making his feet already start to walk towards the voice-abandoning his books to look for his siren, his obsession. He follows that soft siren voice through the book shelves-almost desperate to find his rescuer-the girl who had been haunting him for a month straight.
But she evades him once again, her voice unreachable, and just when he feels like he’s found her-he follows her voice back out into the main halls and she’s lost to the after-school crowd; unable to find her in the mass of Hogwarts students.
He curses, desperately looking for any sort of sign of his siren, but she's gone and his obsession grows. He knows her voice now; her singing joins the echo of her saying his name, his dreams are plagued with her voice that night-of her silhouette-and when he awakes the only thing he can think is;
‘Find her. Find her, find her, find her.’
He knows he’s becoming obsessed, he knows that, but he can't stop himself from becoming so-he must find his mystery savior-he must. Finally, after a month of searching-he finds her. he hears her voice again as he’s walking through the inner halls of Hogwarts, coming from the courtyard and he quickly redirects his path towards his siren’s voice-stopping to catch his breath as he pauses under the archway leading into the garden courtyard that sat In the middle of the castle walls.
There she was, singing to herself under the tree in the shade, a book in her lap. He couldn’t see her face from the angle he stood at-behind her-but he could see her, he could hear her clearly. His siren, his obsession, his savior, he finally had a person to match the voice to.
To hear her voice so clearly makes him unable to step forward and confront her, it steals his breath, his senses, his very soul. A true siren she was. “(y/n)!” someone calls from across the courtyard and Tom lets out a choked breath when his siren looks up.
(y/n), her name was (y/n). He whispered the name on his lips, finally moving forward to stand behind the tree, peeking around it to watch as (y/n) stood and greeted the boy that walked up to her, Tom felt an odd tightness in his chest at the sight-watching as the boy starts talking with (y/n) and she seems comfortable with him-the two walking away soon after that. She laughs at something the boy says and Tom has to catch his breath again at the sound-this siren is beauty Incarnate in more ways than one, her voice, her laugh-all of her has him enraptured.
Then he sees her face as she turns to face the boy and his heart stutters along with his breath-her silhouette hadn’t done her any justice-she was… breathtaking.
Mine…mine mine mine mine mine. Mine.
He can't stop seeing her after that, she’s in all his classes, he sees her in the hallways, in the common room, during breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He sees her in the library, at Slugclub meetings; it’s like the gods had decided to give him a gift and continued to present his siren constantly to him, allowing him so many chances to just look at her.
He locks eyes with her one day when they pass by each other in the hallway and he swears time slows down as he looks into her eyes, his heart in his ears and his breath caught, time only resuming when she blinks and looks away. Tom stops and she doesn’t, unaware that Tom is watching her-his eyes soft in a way they never had been before-a longing in his very soul.
Mine mine mine.
Soon enough his followers notice, some holding back a chuckle as they watch Tom stare with a wistful look in his eyes at (y/n) who sits further down the Slytherin table at dinner, who still doesn’t realize Tom has become obsessed with her. He knows her favorite color, her favorite book, why she had a scar on her finger, where she grew up, her favorite food, her favorite class, her best class, her favorite song(she sang it the most), her little quirks, he knows all he can about the girl who has stolen his heart-his very essence without realizing it.
“…When are you going to stop looking at her and talk to her?” Avery asks Tom, who sits up suddenly-realizing everyone could see him staring at (y/n). “Hmm, what?” Tom says, almost in a daze-like he had been truly put under a spell by a siren-his gaze quickly going back to (y/n), unable to keep his eyes off her for long.
“Merlin’s beard, he’s smitten,” Another boy mumbles and Tom side-eyes him and they all go silent, except Avery, who asks Tom once again. “Are you ever going to talk to her?” Tom sighs, planting his chin in his palm as he looks at Avery.
“For once, I’m unsure of how to navigate a situation, what would I even say to her? Hi, I've been obsessed with you for two months now and know almost everything about you? That’ll blow over well,” Tom snaps quite uncharacteristically, but (y/n) made him feel things he was unsure of and made him act out in ways he never thought he would.
“Maybe just thank her for saving you from the Black Lake? Get a conversation started at least?” Avery suggests and Tom sighs, for once, Avery had a good idea. But now was the question-when would he go up and talk to her?
He had felt nervous before, fear duh, hesitancy was rare but he felt it-but this? This was a whole new level. His stomach churned and his heart went wild any time he even considered going up to (y/n) to talk to her.
Wild uncharted waters (y/n) had thrown him into, and he was drowning again, this time in the uncertainty (y/n) gave him. Then he got his chance one day during potions class, one he shared with (y/n), he couldn’t help but stare at her profile-looking at the way her lashes fluttered when she blinked, the soft curve of her jaw and cheek when she spoke, and the way her hair shimmered under the dim light of the potions dungeons.
They ended up getting paired together to make a potion and Tom, for once, fumbled; dropping ingredients as if he had never stepped foot in potions class before. His followers who shared the class with him held in their laughter, watching their usual stoic and confident leader fumble through a potions assignment-which he hadn’t done since first year, and even back then he hadn’t fumbled this much.
“You okay?” (y/n) asked him, giving him a concerned look when he continuously dropped the leech guts they had to put in the potion. Tom nodded dumbly, glaring at Rosier who was snickering at him for being a love-struck fool.
Thankfully he got his drops out and was able to pour the damn leech juice into the cauldron as (y/n) stirred it, his eyes drifting to the curve of (y/n)’s fingers and the flick of her wrist as she stirred the potion-his mind going into the gutter for a split second before he regained his senses, snapping his head back to the potions book as the blood drained from his head and went…somewhere else.
He managed to hide his embarrassing boner with his robes and imagined every disgusting thing in the book to get rid of it. Thankfully, the thought of Dumbledore managed to quell the fire in his gut, and while he mentally gagged at the thought of the cooky wizard in swim trunks-it helped.
“so,” Tom suddenly said while they were doing the finishing touches on their potion. (y/n) looked at him for a split second before returning her attention to the swirling potion. “you were the one to save me from the lake, weren’t you?” Tom said, less asking, and more confirming what he knew to be true.
(y/n) nodded, looking back up at him. “yeah,” she said simply and Tom hummed, tapping his fingers on the spine of the potions book.
“…How did you know I couldn’t swim?” Tom asked quietly, for no one else to hear and (y/n) shrugged, tapping the stick on the cauldron edge and setting it on the desk.
“I didn’t, but the lake was freezing and you were wearing a lot of wool, even a strong swimmer would’ve had trouble with that, plus cold shock can really mess with the senses, and when I noticed you weren’t coming back up-so I just…jumped in,” (y/n) rambled quietly, her eyes distant as she remembered that horrifying minute of nothingness after Tom had been sent through the ice by his ‘friends.’ “no one else seemed to think you were drowning, or were too shocked to move.”
Tom was quiet for a moment, remembering how his ‘friends’ had just laughed at him while he drowned, and even after he clearly couldn’t swim-they still didn’t do anything in shock-and yet (y/n) had risked her health and safety to save him.
“Thank you,” Tom said, sounding strained. (y/n) smiled, making Tom’s heart race as he stared at the face of his savior, his siren-whose voice had been stuck in his head for months now.
“You’re welcome.”
Mine .
-end(? Suggestions for p2?? Maybe? Pls?)-