𝐓𝐨𝐨 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫

𝐓𝐨𝐨 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫

𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃!𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 | 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 |

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 - Tom Riddle returns home from a Death Eater meeting only to find Y/N grumbling about how much he’s grown and how his robes have become too short and ridiculous.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 - Honestly random but love writing domestic scenes that would also play out in the real world...

𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃 - @bernardsbendystraws

The door creaked open with a familiar hum of magic. Heavy boots stepped in first, trailing the shadow of a long, dark cloak.

Tom Riddle swept into the quiet sitting room, still clad in his Death Eater robes, fresh from a meeting his mask gone, but the tension lingering in his shoulders.

He barely had time to speak before Y/N looked up from the sofa and sighed loudly.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” she muttered, standing and walking over.

Tom blinked, caught off-guard. “What?”

“You grew again.”

He froze. “Pardon?”

“You grew, Tom,” she grumbled, already crouching at his feet, tugging at the hem of his dark robes with practiced fingers. “This looked fine last month. Now it’s hovering like you're trying to start a fashion trend. Floaty ankles of doom.”

“I—what are you doing?”

“Trying to save your dignity,” she murmured, distracted. “Honestly, you’re terrifying and dramatic and all that, but no one’s going to take you seriously if they can see your socks.”

Tom looked down at her, crouched at the base of his robes, wand in hand as she muttered a minor lengthening charm under her breath.

A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“You know,” he drawled, voice thick with amusement, “you’re on your knees for me right now.”

She paused mid-spell and gave him a deadpan stare. “You’re lucky I’m not hexing your kneecaps.”

He chuckled actually chuckled and leaned lazily against the doorway. “You complain, but you love me.”

“I tolerate you,” she shot back, tapping her wand to the hem again. “Which is honestly more impressive.”

“I just got back from a Death Eater meeting, and you’re fixing my robe hem like I’m off to a school recital.”

“Because your robe hem is embarrassing,” she said, standing and brushing off her knees. “Eighteen and still growing. You’re going to be seven feet tall by the time you're done, and then where will we be?”

Tom’s lips curved in a faint, dark smile. “Standing above them all, as I’m meant to.”

She rolled her eyes, but her lips curled into a smile anyway. “Try again without sounding like you're about to monologue.”

Tom stepped closer, wrapping his arms around her waist, his voice softer now. “You fuss over my robes like you’re not dating the most feared Slytherin of the age.”

“Because the most feared Slytherin of the age looked like a damn scarecrow,” she teased, reaching up to adjust the clasp at his collar. “There. Still terrifying. Just... less drafty.”

He rested his forehead against hers for a beat, smile lingering. “I’ll take that.”

"You’re welcome, Lord Longlegs."

He laughed again, full and quiet, and for a moment the world outside the door wars and legacies and masks melted away, leaving just him, her, and the hem of a robe finally done right.