Tom Riddle had a strong desire for you. He was so mysterious, intimidating, smart, quiet, yet handsome that girls fancied him for the small things he does.

But he had eyes for you. It’s like you’re haunting his mind. He writes about you in his diary. He hates you and himself for it. Hates that he wants you. Hates that he needs you. Yet he still yearns for you.

But he loves how you aren’t intimidated by him. But you’re his best friend. You guys can’t be together.

And the only physical contact he’s able to get with you are when you accidentally touch hands or when you touch him first. He hopes every second of the day that you’ll touch him.

As usual, you were sitting at one of the tables in the library of Hogwarts, studying for the upcoming exam. Tom was only across from you, glancing at you ever so often.

Tom was also preoccupied in his book. A few hours later he left the library storming out without a word and you were curious why.

He opened the door to his dorm and he slammed it jaw clenched. He sat at his desk and opened his diary, dipping his quill in ink and began writing.

She haunts me, plagues my thoughts I find my self watching her, the way she moves, the way she looks at the world. It’s infuriating. I want her, yet I despise the very idea.

Her name is a curse, a poison on my tongue. But I can’t help but taste it over and over again. I want to strangle her, yet I yearn to touch her skin, only to confirm if she’s as soft and warm as she looks.

The things I would do to her, just to see the brief flicker of fear in her eyes before the darkness consumes her. It’s a twisted desire but a desire nonetheless.

I need to get rid of her, eliminate this distraction, this desire.

And with that he ended his writing and the someone began knocking on his door. He opened the door revealing you.

Fuck. He thought.