The fire in the common room crackled softly, but its warmth did nothing to calm the chill running through you. You paced your dormitory, your hands trembling as you replayed the moment over and over in your mind. The kiss. It had been impulsive, reckless—completely unlike you.

But it had happened.

You had kissed Professor Riddle.

The image of him—so composed, so cold—flashed through your mind. He had always been strict, his sharp tone and piercing gaze enough to keep the entire class in line. You’d seen students crumble under his disapproval, their voices faltering as they tried to explain themselves. Yet, behind the aloof demeanor, there had been moments when his gaze lingered too long, when his sharp words softened ever so slightly when directed at you.

But a kiss? That was something else entirely.

You pressed your hands to your face, heat rising to your cheeks as you tried to make sense of it all. What had possessed you to do it? And worse, what would happen now?

Unbeknownst to you, in the stillness of his private office, Tom was just as shaken.

He sat at his desk, his fingers gripping the edges so tightly his knuckles turned white. His mind, usually so sharp and disciplined, was in complete disarray. For three years, he had harbored a secret, simmering infatuation—a dangerous attachment he had sworn to keep buried. He had watched you from afar, his cool exterior hiding the way his heart betrayed him whenever you entered the room.

But tonight had shattered his carefully constructed facade.

The memory of it burned in his mind—the feel of your lips, the way you had looked at him, unguarded and raw. For the first time in years, he had been completely undone, caught between the thrill of finally tasting what he had yearned for and the terror of what it meant.

What was he supposed to do now? Push you away? Pretend it hadn’t happened? The thought sent a stab of something unfamiliar—something like regret—through him. He had built his life on control, yet you had dismantled it with a single impulsive act.