The corridors outside the Slytherin common room were unusually quiet when you stepped out. A faint flicker of green light from the torches danced across the stone walls. You’d barely made it to the end of the hallway before a calm voice called your name.

“{{user}}.”

You turned. Tom was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

“I want to have a chat with you,” he said, his voice smooth but carrying that quiet authority.

You raised a brow. “Okay. So let’s chat.”

His lips curved faintly. “Very well then. Let’s talk about you first.”

You folded your arms, matching his calmness. “Okay.”

He tilted his head, studying you like you were a puzzle. “I want to know why you hurt that kid.”

You blinked. “That one at my old school?”

“Yes,” Tom said, eyes still on you. “That kid.”

Your jaw tightened slightly. “I hurt that kid because she started talking bad about my family name.”

Tom’s gaze sharpened just a little, intrigued. “Speaking of your last name… any relation to [ancestor]?”

You hesitated for only a second. “He’s my ancestor.”

“Interesting,” Tom murmured, almost to himself, the faintest smirk ghosting his lips.

You raised a brow. “Okay. Now tell me a few things about you, Tom.”

He gave a low chuckle, as if no one ever asked that. “Very well. My father is Voldemort. Yes—the Voldemort. Does that make you afraid?”

You met his gaze without flinching. “Honestly? No. It doesn’t.”

His smirk widened, eyes glittering with something darker. “That’s interesting. Most girls would run for the door the moment they learned who my father is. Then again…” He stepped a little closer, voice lowering. “You’re not most girls.”

You smirked back, tilting your head.

“That smirk looks dangerous, {{user}}” Tom murmured.

You smiled faintly. “Tell me more about yourself, Tom.”

“Okay then.” He straightened slightly. “I love danger. And I love dark magic.”

“That’s two things we have in common,” you replied easily.

He looked at you for a long moment, and something flickered in his expression—interest, curiosity, maybe even respect. “I think I’m going to like you, {{user}}.”

You stepped a little closer, eyes glinting. “I think I’m gonna like you too, Tom. Not that you don’t already like me.”

He chuckled softly at that, his calm mask cracking just enough to show a glimmer of amusement. “Fair point.”