MMOPS Fangasm Exchange 1
First Fangasm exchange I participated in.
Prompts were:
Tom Riddle
Hogwarts, or just after graduation
A girl who falls for him
So this is a short one shot story I wrote entitled "Crush".
Myrtle sat on a stone bench in the Transfiguration courtyard, the spring sun glowing brightly, and the scent of perennials wafting along the breeze. She was hunched over a long parchment, marking it every few minutes with a hawk feather quill, the bronze flashing along in the sunlight.
A group of Slytherins entered the courtyard noisily, laughing and jeering at each other and sneering at any Gryffindor foolish enough to get to close. Each snide remark was followed by a quick glance to the dark haired boy in the centre of the group, who remained silent but for a brief smile at some of the particularly nasty comments spewed forth by the gaggle.
Myrtle glanced up at the group as they settled across the courtyard.
“Bloody Gryffindors” George Hornby remarked, flopping to the ground and beginning to pick grass absentmindedly.
“A necessary problem” Tom Riddle remarked, “Who better to practice on?”
The group fell silent and looked at Riddle eagerly, a couple letting out an appreciative guffaw at his comment.
None noticed the continuing glances thrown their way from the Ravenclaw girl, hiding behind parchment and glasses. She watched as they huddled, listening in near rapture, to Tom Riddle who spoke so quietly not a sound carried across to Myrtle.
Her quill had stopped flashing in the sun, drops of ink splattering the ground as she held it paused in the air. Myrtle was once again lost in her favourite fantasy, and the courtyard grew golden in her mind.
Tom Riddle was brushing off his admirers, ordering them away from the courtyard. As they left hurriedly, so did everyone else enjoying the warm day, until Myrtle next looked up to see no one but Tom left.
And he was watching her.
Myrtle’s heart sped up as Tom rose to his feet, and slowly, gracefully, strode across the grass and came to a stop directly in front of her. She stared hard at her parchment, trying to deny the blush which crept over her cheeks at the close proximity of this Slytherin god.
“Myrtle” he murmured, and she was unable to resist meeting his gaze. He lowered himself to the seat beside her and plucked the parchment from her hands, flinging it lazily to the ground. “My notes!” Myrtle started, reaching for them, but was stopped by his finger rising to her lips “Sshh” he whispered, cupping her face in his hand, and in the gentle sunlight he leaned in to her, the seconds stretching out until-
“OI! FOUR-EYES!”
Myrtle was snapped from her daydreaming with a jolt. She barely had a moment to register that she’d been staring at Tom Riddle for the past few minutes before Olive strutted over, smirking. “What do you think you’re staring at?” she demanded.
“Nothing Olive” Myrtle retorted, straightening her parchment and promptly ignoring the Slytherin.
“Really?” Olive sniffed haughtily, “Because I could have sworn you just spent the last five minutes staring at Tom Riddle.” Her smirk deepened as Myrtle blushed and stared even harder at her notes. “You know he’d never be interested in you, right? I mean, it doesn’t take a Ravenclaw to figure that out. Then again, you haven’t. Are you sure you were sorted right?”
Olive’s taunts were weak, but they stung all the same. “Look at you Myrtle. You’re nothing but a titchy little girl with a couple of bottles on your face. No one would ever look at you twice. Especially not him.”
When this didn’t get any further reaction Olive straightened up and looked over her shoulder. “HEY TOM” she yelled, then plunked down on the bench next to Myrtle, “Come here for a moment.”
Olives brother George yelled back, “Sod off Olive”, but Tom rose any strode over, quickly followed by his gang, who all scrambled to their feet a moment later.
“Yes Olive?” Tom questioned once he reached them.
Olive threw an arm over Myrtle’s shoulder, who had frozen in place, too scared to even breathe. The Slytherin boys gathered around the bench and watched on expectantly. Olive’s teasing of Myrtle was near relentless and well known throughout the school, and she had spent several years perfecting her craft. Anticipation built for whatever new round of embarrassment she’d clearly concocted to spew forth.
“So Myrtle here was just confessing a little secret” she began, “Apparently our own Slytherin boy here has made himself quite appealing. What do you think Tom? Would you be interested in a fling with a pathetic little four-eyed nerd?”
The boys around them began to laugh raucously, some making sick motions. Myrtle couldn’t bear to so much as look at Tom, and with a hard shrug brushed Olive off of her and stood up, briskly walking away to the nearest corridor and disappearing, the cat-calls following in her wake.
She didn’t see, and no one else seemed to notice, the dark-haired Slytherin to whom she’d just been outed was watching her fleeing back with narrowed eyes, not so much as a hint of a smile to his features.
*****
The Great Hall was crowded and noisy as students bustled about, most still half asleep. Tom Riddle sat, as usual, the centre of a group of Slytherins, holding court effortlessly. Olive was seated to his right, twirling a strand of hair around a finger and laughing at one of the boys comments.
Myrtle hustled in through the doorway, head bent down, trying to be as invisible as possible, but Olive noticed her straight away.
“Ooh, Tom, you’re girlfriends here” she giggled, batting her eyelashes innocently. The boys guffawed, though it broke off fairly quickly at Toms scowl.
“Enough Olive” he snapped, but Olive just laughed again,
“What’s the matter Tom? Don’t tell me you feel for her” she drawled, rolling her eyes, “Or is little Myrtle not the only one trying to hide a crush?”
The table erupted in laughter and Tom scowled harder.
“Oh gosh!” Olive pronounced, “Is that what you do when you disappear all the time? Having clandestine meetings with Myrtle?”
“Really Olive” Tom snapped, “If your delusions grow any more pronounced we’ll need to bundle you off to St Mungo’s.”
“You’re no fun” she pouted, then glanced at the Ravenclaw table and grinned maliciously, “Guess I’ll just have to go make my own.”
She rose and strode across the hall, sitting on the table next to Myrtle.
Tom rose from the bench at the Slytherin table and walked away from his group, ignoring the questions shouted after him.
He found a doorway off of the hall and, creeping inside the empty room, waited.
And surely enough, it only took a few minutes before Myrtle erupted from the Great Hall, wiping her eyes furiously, her glasses pushed aside.
She sped across the Entrance Hall and up the staircase, too engrossed in her own misery to notice Tom slip out and follow.
As he hoped she made a beeline for the nearest girls’ bathroom. Fortunately, this was one of the locations with an entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. Tom smirked at how effortlessly his plans came together.
Myrtle disappeared into the bathroom and Tom waited a few moments to make sure the hall was clear before ducking in behind her. The bathroom was empty but for muffled sobs coming from the third stall. Tom turned to the faucets in the centre of the room, and locating the small snake, began to speak.
The guttural rasping of parseltongue echoed off of the tiles, and the faucets began to shudder, sliding apart to reveal darkness.
Near invisible, something stirred below, and with speed began to rise up the pipe. Tom turned his back, angling to watch the bathroom from one of the mirrors. He had a perfect view as the lock on Myrtles stall clicked and the door begun to swing open.
The basilisk reached the top of the pipe and gazed into the bathroom, yellow eyes blazing, scenting the air with quick flicks of its long tongue.
Myrtle peered out, and in an instant her face froze, eyes wide, and her body collapsed with a dull thud to the bathroom floor.
Tom grinned into the mirror at the lifeless body, and with a hiss dismissed the basilisk. It slid back down the pipe and the faucets shifted back into place.
With one last glance at the dead girl, Tom Riddle slipped out the bathroom door, not noticing the air shimmering as Myrtle’s ghost appeared, looked around in disbelief, then settled on the toilet seat, gazing at her body.
“Olive Hornby will be sorry she ever teased me.”
Prompts were:
Tom Riddle
Hogwarts, or just after graduation
A girl who falls for him
So this is a short one shot story I wrote entitled "Crush".
Myrtle sat on a stone bench in the Transfiguration courtyard, the spring sun glowing brightly, and the scent of perennials wafting along the breeze. She was hunched over a long parchment, marking it every few minutes with a hawk feather quill, the bronze flashing along in the sunlight.
A group of Slytherins entered the courtyard noisily, laughing and jeering at each other and sneering at any Gryffindor foolish enough to get to close. Each snide remark was followed by a quick glance to the dark haired boy in the centre of the group, who remained silent but for a brief smile at some of the particularly nasty comments spewed forth by the gaggle.
Myrtle glanced up at the group as they settled across the courtyard.
“Bloody Gryffindors” George Hornby remarked, flopping to the ground and beginning to pick grass absentmindedly.
“A necessary problem” Tom Riddle remarked, “Who better to practice on?”
The group fell silent and looked at Riddle eagerly, a couple letting out an appreciative guffaw at his comment.
None noticed the continuing glances thrown their way from the Ravenclaw girl, hiding behind parchment and glasses. She watched as they huddled, listening in near rapture, to Tom Riddle who spoke so quietly not a sound carried across to Myrtle.
Her quill had stopped flashing in the sun, drops of ink splattering the ground as she held it paused in the air. Myrtle was once again lost in her favourite fantasy, and the courtyard grew golden in her mind.
Tom Riddle was brushing off his admirers, ordering them away from the courtyard. As they left hurriedly, so did everyone else enjoying the warm day, until Myrtle next looked up to see no one but Tom left.
And he was watching her.
Myrtle’s heart sped up as Tom rose to his feet, and slowly, gracefully, strode across the grass and came to a stop directly in front of her. She stared hard at her parchment, trying to deny the blush which crept over her cheeks at the close proximity of this Slytherin god.
“Myrtle” he murmured, and she was unable to resist meeting his gaze. He lowered himself to the seat beside her and plucked the parchment from her hands, flinging it lazily to the ground. “My notes!” Myrtle started, reaching for them, but was stopped by his finger rising to her lips “Sshh” he whispered, cupping her face in his hand, and in the gentle sunlight he leaned in to her, the seconds stretching out until-
“OI! FOUR-EYES!”
Myrtle was snapped from her daydreaming with a jolt. She barely had a moment to register that she’d been staring at Tom Riddle for the past few minutes before Olive strutted over, smirking. “What do you think you’re staring at?” she demanded.
“Nothing Olive” Myrtle retorted, straightening her parchment and promptly ignoring the Slytherin.
“Really?” Olive sniffed haughtily, “Because I could have sworn you just spent the last five minutes staring at Tom Riddle.” Her smirk deepened as Myrtle blushed and stared even harder at her notes. “You know he’d never be interested in you, right? I mean, it doesn’t take a Ravenclaw to figure that out. Then again, you haven’t. Are you sure you were sorted right?”
Olive’s taunts were weak, but they stung all the same. “Look at you Myrtle. You’re nothing but a titchy little girl with a couple of bottles on your face. No one would ever look at you twice. Especially not him.”
When this didn’t get any further reaction Olive straightened up and looked over her shoulder. “HEY TOM” she yelled, then plunked down on the bench next to Myrtle, “Come here for a moment.”
Olives brother George yelled back, “Sod off Olive”, but Tom rose any strode over, quickly followed by his gang, who all scrambled to their feet a moment later.
“Yes Olive?” Tom questioned once he reached them.
Olive threw an arm over Myrtle’s shoulder, who had frozen in place, too scared to even breathe. The Slytherin boys gathered around the bench and watched on expectantly. Olive’s teasing of Myrtle was near relentless and well known throughout the school, and she had spent several years perfecting her craft. Anticipation built for whatever new round of embarrassment she’d clearly concocted to spew forth.
“So Myrtle here was just confessing a little secret” she began, “Apparently our own Slytherin boy here has made himself quite appealing. What do you think Tom? Would you be interested in a fling with a pathetic little four-eyed nerd?”
The boys around them began to laugh raucously, some making sick motions. Myrtle couldn’t bear to so much as look at Tom, and with a hard shrug brushed Olive off of her and stood up, briskly walking away to the nearest corridor and disappearing, the cat-calls following in her wake.
She didn’t see, and no one else seemed to notice, the dark-haired Slytherin to whom she’d just been outed was watching her fleeing back with narrowed eyes, not so much as a hint of a smile to his features.
*****
The Great Hall was crowded and noisy as students bustled about, most still half asleep. Tom Riddle sat, as usual, the centre of a group of Slytherins, holding court effortlessly. Olive was seated to his right, twirling a strand of hair around a finger and laughing at one of the boys comments.
Myrtle hustled in through the doorway, head bent down, trying to be as invisible as possible, but Olive noticed her straight away.
“Ooh, Tom, you’re girlfriends here” she giggled, batting her eyelashes innocently. The boys guffawed, though it broke off fairly quickly at Toms scowl.
“Enough Olive” he snapped, but Olive just laughed again,
“What’s the matter Tom? Don’t tell me you feel for her” she drawled, rolling her eyes, “Or is little Myrtle not the only one trying to hide a crush?”
The table erupted in laughter and Tom scowled harder.
“Oh gosh!” Olive pronounced, “Is that what you do when you disappear all the time? Having clandestine meetings with Myrtle?”
“Really Olive” Tom snapped, “If your delusions grow any more pronounced we’ll need to bundle you off to St Mungo’s.”
“You’re no fun” she pouted, then glanced at the Ravenclaw table and grinned maliciously, “Guess I’ll just have to go make my own.”
She rose and strode across the hall, sitting on the table next to Myrtle.
Tom rose from the bench at the Slytherin table and walked away from his group, ignoring the questions shouted after him.
He found a doorway off of the hall and, creeping inside the empty room, waited.
And surely enough, it only took a few minutes before Myrtle erupted from the Great Hall, wiping her eyes furiously, her glasses pushed aside.
She sped across the Entrance Hall and up the staircase, too engrossed in her own misery to notice Tom slip out and follow.
As he hoped she made a beeline for the nearest girls’ bathroom. Fortunately, this was one of the locations with an entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. Tom smirked at how effortlessly his plans came together.
Myrtle disappeared into the bathroom and Tom waited a few moments to make sure the hall was clear before ducking in behind her. The bathroom was empty but for muffled sobs coming from the third stall. Tom turned to the faucets in the centre of the room, and locating the small snake, began to speak.
The guttural rasping of parseltongue echoed off of the tiles, and the faucets began to shudder, sliding apart to reveal darkness.
Near invisible, something stirred below, and with speed began to rise up the pipe. Tom turned his back, angling to watch the bathroom from one of the mirrors. He had a perfect view as the lock on Myrtles stall clicked and the door begun to swing open.
The basilisk reached the top of the pipe and gazed into the bathroom, yellow eyes blazing, scenting the air with quick flicks of its long tongue.
Myrtle peered out, and in an instant her face froze, eyes wide, and her body collapsed with a dull thud to the bathroom floor.
Tom grinned into the mirror at the lifeless body, and with a hiss dismissed the basilisk. It slid back down the pipe and the faucets shifted back into place.
With one last glance at the dead girl, Tom Riddle slipped out the bathroom door, not noticing the air shimmering as Myrtle’s ghost appeared, looked around in disbelief, then settled on the toilet seat, gazing at her body.
“Olive Hornby will be sorry she ever teased me.”