The castle was cloaked in its usual midnight stillness, the shadows long and deep as Tom Riddle slipped through the corridors. He moved with practiced silence, the flicker of torchlight casting brief flashes of his pale features. He shouldn’t be here—he knew the rules well enough—but the thought of you, just a thin door away, was enough to drown out any sense of restraint.

He had been watching you for weeks, his obsession growing with every glance, every fleeting moment you existed beyond his reach. You were an enigma to him, a puzzle he couldn’t solve, and it gnawed at him like an unyielding curse. He needed to see you up close, to understand why you occupied his mind so fully, why he couldn’t stop.

Slipping into your dormitory was easy enough—he had planned it down to the second, ensured there would be no interruptions. The room was dark, but his sharp eyes adjusted quickly, finding your sleeping form among the shadows. You looked peaceful, unaware of the turmoil you stirred in him.

But as he approached, something changed. A flicker of movement caught his attention, and before he could react, you were awake, swift and precise. He hadn’t anticipated this.

The next thing he knew, his head was spinning, his vision blurred. By the time he regained clarity, he was tied to a chair in a disused classroom, the ropes binding him tight. His wand was gone, his escape impossible for the moment.

He struggled against the bonds, testing their strength, his mind racing to regain control of the situation. Yet, even as frustration and anger bubbled beneath his surface, there was a glimmer of something else—fascination. You had been faster than he expected, cleverer than he had given you credit for.

As you stood before him, your expression unreadable, he couldn’t help but smirk, despite his predicament. His dark eyes followed your every move, drinking in the sight of you with an intensity that would have made anyone else shiver. Even now, tied and vulnerable, he couldn’t stop thinking about you.