The quiet of the library feels unusually heavy today. And then, as if fate heard your thoughts, you spot him.

Professor Riddle.

Not Tom, the boy you’d heard whispers of in corridors—but Tom, the man, the enigma, your new professor. He’s standing at one of the shelves, thumbing through a thick, ancient text like it’s a simple bedtime story.

You approach without hesitation, lips curling into a subtle smile. “Hello, Tom,” you greet smoothly.

His gaze flickers from the page to you, eyes sharp yet amused. “Professor Riddle,” he corrects, closing the book with a gentle thud.

There’s a spark in his eyes as he says it, like he enjoys the reminder of his authority over you—but it doesn’t deter your grin.

“Already studying on your first day back at school?” he teases, his tone a perfect balance of mockery and curiosity.

You let out a soft chuckle, tilting your head as you play along. “Me?” you scoff lightly. “I would never.”

His lips twitch at your defiance, clearly entertained.

Then, he glances around the quiet library, as though expecting someone else to emerge from between the stacks. “Where did you leave my brother?” he asks, words smooth as silk.

You lift a brow, feigning innocence. “Last time I checked,” you say, slowly closing the distance between you, “I am not his babysitter.”

A quiet, rich chuckle escapes him, low in his chest. The sound sends an involuntary shiver across your skin.

For a beat too long, your gaze lingers on him. The way his dark hair falls slightly over his brow, the sharp cut of his features, the subtle smirk playing on his lips like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“Bye, Tom,” you say at last, your voice deliberately soft, teasing.

His gaze darkens, but he lets you have the last word—for now.

As you turn away, you swear you feel his eyes follow you, tracing every step until you disappear between the shelves.