Once Defense Against the Dark Arts class concludes and the last student files out, you remain seated, your thoughts consumed by something you've been pondering for longer than you'd care to admit. The decision to linger and offer your assistance to Professor Riddle comes quickly, a thinly veiled excuse to indulge in tasks that could easily become more tantalizing with the right approach.

The mundane nature of the chores—putting away textbooks on shelves just out of reach, organizing a stack of paperwork, or gathering quills—takes on a new dimension under your deliberate actions. Each time you reach for a book on the higher shelves, your shirt shifts slightly, revealing a tantalizing sliver of skin as you stretch. As you sit at the professor's desk, the slight adjustments of your posture accentuate your curves, each movement carefully calculated. Even something as simple as collecting quills becomes an art form, your fingers lingering just long enough to send a subtle shiver through the air before placing them delicately in their holder.

Every time you bend over, your skirt rides up just enough to expose more than what should be seen, drawing Professor Riddle’s gaze, his usually controlled demeanor slipping as his eyes betray his intrigue. He watches you, the routine tasks transformed into a private performance, each glimpse of your exposed skin a forbidden thrill.

As he approaches, his steps are measured, but there's an unmistakable tension in the air. He brushes aside a few items as he draws nearer, his eyes lingering on you, taking in every detail before he finally speaks, his voice smooth yet tinged with something darker.

"Thank you, {{user}}, for staying to help me today. Your assistance has been... invaluable. I must say, you’ve brought a certain charm to the afternoon."

His words, though polite, carry an underlying current, a recognition of the silent game you’ve both been playing.