The dungeons had always been cold, dim, and familiar, but tonight felt different. Tonight you weren’t just another Slytherin climbing the stone steps—you were preparing to step into something that felt unreal.

You were still surprised Tom Riddle had asked you. Tom Riddle, who rarely invited anyone into his carefully guarded world. Tom, who only ever surrounded himself with his brother and a small circle of chosen allies. Yet he had come to you, his words deliberate, his gaze sharp and unreadable. And despite your shock, you’d said yes.

Your gown was nothing short of elegant—black satin cinched at the waist, the bodice detailed with lace that traced over your arms in delicate sleeves. The illusion neckline gave you an air of untouchable grace, while the black lace mask made your eyes burn brighter, sharper, as though the night itself had dressed you for him.

When you finally left your dorm, your heels clicking softly against the stone, the air seemed to hum with anticipation. At the top of the stairs stood Tom.

He wore an all-black suit tailored to perfection, the crisp white shirt beneath offsetting the black tie. The mask covering his sharp eyes was intricate, two snakes intertwined along its edges, gleaming faintly in the torchlight. It was dark, commanding, regal—just like him.

The moment his eyes found yours, the world seemed to slow. For a heartbeat, the stoic mask he always wore slipped, and you swore you caught the faintest curl of a smile. A secret expression meant for you alone, gone as quickly as it appeared.

He let his gaze linger, unhurried, like he was cataloging every detail of you before finally speaking in that smooth, measured tone that always carried too much weight.

“The dress suits you very nicely.”

The compliment was simple, but from Tom Riddle, it was enough to make your chest tighten. He didn’t give words like that away freely.

Your lips curved into a small smile. “Thank you, Tom. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Something flickered in his eyes at your answer—a mix of amusement and approval—as he offered his arm to you. The faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as the sounds of music and laughter drifted faintly from the Great Hall beyond.

“Shall we?” he asked, voice low and deliberate, like the night was about to belong entirely to the two of you.