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Tom Riddle knew what it meant to have matching patronuses with someone. Well, it could mean many things, an exactly matching patronus-meant obsession, only wanting them and almost refusing to better ones self to better match the other in a proper way.
A mirrored patronus meant complete understanding-usually twins had mirrored patronus’, as Tom had researched, so their magic would mirror the other due to the innate understanding they had about the other, but still different enough to be their own person, because even mirrors weren’t perfect.
A matching patronus, like a doe and a buck-meant complete understanding love, being someone's other half, to be complete with the other, but still being your own being.
Tom Riddle had never been able to produce a patronus, he’d never even created whisps of one. He didn’t exactly have any happy, powerful, memories. He had tried to use the day he found out he was a wizard, or when he got his wand, or when he was sorted into slytherin-but none worked to even create a breath of the charm.
He was getting quite, frustrated, with himself; he could easily perform any other type of magic, charm, hex, curse-you name it, he could cast it. Yet the Patronus charm was giving him so much trouble he wanted to throw himself at the wall.
He watched as everyone else in the ‘advanced charms and defenses’ class either got a little bit of a whisp, or almost got a corporeal patronus. It was infuriating. He was Tom Riddle, descendant of Salazar Slytherin-he SHOULD be able to summon a damn patronus.
“Expecto Patronum.” Tom hissed under his breath, his hand and wrist moving perfectly to cast the charm. His pronunciation was perfect, his wand movement perfect-and yet nothing came from his wand-not even a shift in the air.
“Merlins-saggy-balls.” Tom hissed, tapping his wand hard against the heel of his palm, glaring at the pale long wood of his wand as if it was the reason he couldn’t produce the charm. He took a long shaky breath, pinching his nose as he tried to calm himself down-being angry wouldn’t help-he needed to think of a good memory, a happy thought.
Bloody hell he sounded like Peter fucking Pan.
“Havin’ trouble smiles?” Tom huffed at the annoyingly familiar voice that came from behind him, turning to see (y/n)-he’d known her since the very first day of the school year, meeting her on the Hogwarts Express over 7 years ago when she’d sat in the same compartment as him and proceeded to babble his ear off.
She was still doing that, really the only constant in his life.
Though he could do without the bloody nickname.
“Shut up.” Tom grumbled, turning his head again to focus, taking a deep breath to single out a memory, any memory-to try and cast the damn spell. “Expecto Patronum.” Tom said.
Nothing.
Tom let out a frustrated snarl and nearly threw his wand to the floor-but managed to keep his calm mostly, as the room was full of other students who think he’s perfect and calm and the golden boy of Hogwarts-especially after last year when he’d framed Hagrid for killing Myrtle.
He hears the familiar laughter of (y/n) behind him as she walks up to him, and she rests her elbow on his shoulder, giving him a half smirk that makes him want to-
“What are you thinking of smiles?” (y/n) asks and Tom frowns, scrunching his nose-she was probably the only one to get these sort’ve reactions from him. He wasn’t a cold emotionless bastard, he was just calculated-though most of the time he wore his emotions on his sleeve, but (y/n) got the most natural reactions from him.
“When I got my wand,” Tom drawled, almost weakly, turning his wand over in his fingers, rolling it between the heel of his palm and the tips of his fingers, watching and feeling it roll and roll over his skin.
(y/n) let out a weak snort, shaking her head. “well that ain't good enough, you know Merrythought was talking about powerful emotions, memories, is what makes a good patronus. Getting a wand feels like nothing compared to the last seven years.”
Tom rolled his eyes, looking at (y/n)-her elbow was still on his shoulder. “Oh yeah? And what memory are you using, munchkin?” (y/n) laughed, bold and giggly as she leaned into him and Tom couldn’t help his half smirk.
“That’s a new one,” (y/n) snickered, flipping her wand between her fingers as she tilted her head to the side. “Hmmm, Expecto Patronum.” She waved her wand and pronounced the charm perfectly, and out from her wand came the form of a snake, but it wasn’t the snake form that caught Tom’s attention, it was the several horns at the crown of its head-a familiar but unusable gleam to its eye.
“Your patronus,” Tom breathed, eyes locked onto the basilisk patronus-how rare, and unusual. Tom would feel jealous if he wasn’t so amazed right now. He turned to (y/n), eyes wide and feverishly determined. “What memory did you use?” Tom asked-breathlessly-and (y/n) gave a little half-shrug, her elbow still on his shoulder.
“Day I met my best friend,” (y/n) said, giving him a look that had his cheeks flushing and his heart stutter.
Best friend? She…she thought he was her best friend? He never knew she thought of him as anything more than someone she liked to mess with and get along with well enough to not hate each other.
Then again, they spent nearly every day together, she barged into his private head boy dorm room a lot, he let her steal his food-and books, and she was probably the only person ever to touch him so freely as she did now.
Tom, clearing his throat, feeling his heart beating fast and his breathing stuck in his throat-lifted his wand once more, spinning it once. “Expecto Patronum.” He said clearly, concentrating and letting his emotions bubble to the surface.
The tip of his wand burst into light-and out came a basilisk, this one almost matching (y/n)’s but it had some differences, like where the horns were and the markings on the scales. Tom felt his face burn as (y/n)whistled, her elbow shaking him a bit.
“Aww it matches mine~” (y/n) cooed, her arm moving to wrap around his and her head leaned on his shoulder as she teased him, her left hand covering his right. “What memory did ya use smiles?”
He cleared his throat, swallowing harshly, looking down at her.
“When I met my best friend,” he mumbled and (y/n) beamed, squeezing his arm as their matching patronus’ intertwined in the air.
-end-