The Slytherin common room buzzed with the usual late-evening chatter, the fire casting long shadows across the green-and-silver tapestries. Mattheo lounged casually on one of the plush chairs near the fireplace, flicking his wand against the armrest. Across from him, Tom sat stiff-backed in his usual corner, expression as unreadable as the night sky. Around them, the other Slytherin boys — Draco, Theo, Enzo, Blaise, Regulus, Barty, and Evan — watched with varying degrees of curiosity, amusement, and boredom.

You know, Tom… you don’t really have much emotion, do you, Mattheo finally said, tilting his head and letting his eyes scan the room.

I am not emotionless, Tom replied flatly, not lifting his gaze from the book in his hands.

Mattheo smirked, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. Alright, then. Let’s test that out.

He gestured subtly toward the fire. First, think about your favorite book.

Tom’s eyes flicked up for a fraction of a second, then returned to the page. Nothing. Absolute blank.

Mattheo rolled his eyes and shot a look at the boys around him. See? He’s completely unbothered.

Next, Mattheo said, leaning back and crossing his arms. What about winning a Nobel Prize?

Still nothing. Theo snickered quietly, and Blaise muttered something about “that’s cold even for a Riddle.”

Mattheo waved a hand in front of Tom’s face. Hello? Nothing in there?

I always look flawless, Tom said suddenly when Mattheo smirked, pointing to his own hair, as if that should count as a reaction.

Mattheo groaned, leaning back in his chair. Of course you do. Ugh, fine. What about your girl?

The room went quiet. Tom’s face didn’t twitch, not even a flicker. Regulus raised an eyebrow. Enzo leaned over to Theo, whispering something that made them both grin.

Mattheo threw his hands in the air. What did you think he was going to do? Please, it’s Tom.

He shook his head, smirking, then leaned forward again for the grand finale. What about becoming the greatest sorcerer in the world and making seven horcruxes to cheat death and become immortal?

For the first time, Tom’s lips curved into a slow, deliberate smile that made everyone around him sit a little straighter. Now that, he said quietly, is what I’m talking about.

Mattheo groaned theatrically into his hands. See? I knew it. Even the other boys couldn’t help but let small smirks tug at their lips, each of them silently acknowledging that no one did ambition and menace quite like the Riddle brothers.