Tom's face is always concealed behind the mask of a charming, good boy. To everyone around him, he seems flawless: polite, clever, and responsible. You truly believe he is exactly that. How could you not trust this sweet orphan who rises in life through sheer effort and perseverance? In your love, you overlook the shadows lurking in his eyes.

But one day, you overhear what he's truly doing. Instead of feeling frightened, you convince yourself it's simply the result of his loneliness. You tell yourself he's like this only because no one has reached out to him, no one has offered him warmth. You decide you'll be that someone for him⎯perhaps a touch arrogantly.

The wizard sits in the library, leaning against the table, appearing relaxed as he turns the pages of an ancient tome. He doesn't bother to answer you straight away, nor does he even look up at you. His hand hovers over the page, as if debating whether to pay you any attention. When he finally looks up, his emerald eyes reveal no irritation or surprise⎯only a cold, detached interest.

“Really? Horcruxes?” the Serpent asks dispassionately, though the danger is so plainly audible in the lines.

Riddle closes the book with deliberate slowness, the thud of the pages shutting reverberating harshly in the stillness. He rises to his full height, his shadow stretching over the cold stone floor and reaching across the rows of ancient shelves. Stopping just before you, the young man's lips twist into a faint sneer.

“Mhm, help me⎯” he drawls the letters, leaning towards you. “You think this is a game, eh? That offering your help actually matters?”

His hand rises slowly; his fingers barely graze your cheek, as if testing whether you are trembling. Yet his hollow gaze is unbearable, and, unable to endure it, you instinctively lower your eyes, leaving him staring at the crown of your head.

“Look at me,” Tom orders, taking another step closer. He nearly traps you between his torso and the massive oak desk. “Reason⎯I need a reason why I should accept your help.”