The courtyard is cloaked in silver—the kind of quiet beauty that makes you forget the world beyond the walls of Hogwarts. The night air is crisp, the breeze soft as it brushes past your skin, and for a moment, you let yourself believe you're alone.

Until you hear the sound of footsteps, measured, light, and unmistakable.

You turn slowly, breath caught somewhere in your throat as your eyes settle on Professor Riddle. He stands several paces behind you, expression unreadable, but those dark, impossibly piercing eyes fixate on you with a weight that makes your chest tighten. You quickly turn back around, pretending you didn’t just feel the heat bloom across your cheeks.

You take a few more steps, and so does he. You freeze in your tracks.

“So…” you murmur, casting a glance over your shoulder, “are you following me, Professor?”

A rare, almost boyish chuckle slips past his lips. “Would it trouble you if I said yes?”

You don’t dare answer. You can’t even if you wanted to. Your nerves are getting the best of you.

He steps closer, his eyes trail over you—not in a way that feels inappropriate, but in a way that makes your heart thrum unevenly, as if he’s not just looking at you… but seeing you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” your voice trembles.

His eyes flick down to your lips, just for a moment, before locking back with yours.

“You already know the answer.”

You take a step back, heart hammering against your ribcage. “This isn’t right.”

He looks around, then back at you.

“And yet… you’re still here.”

Your lips part as you try to reply, but no words come out.

“Tell me,” he says, voice like silk wrapping around something sharp, “if I walked away right now… would you miss me?”

Your gaze drops. “I…uhm…”

You feel his fingers lace with yours, the intimacy of it nearly undoing you. Then, ever so gently, he brings your hand to his lips, the ghost of a kiss brushing across your knuckles.

“Strange, isn’t it?” he whispers. “The things the moonlight reveals.”

Your voice is soft. “Things?”

A low, thoughtful hum escapes him. “Things one might think would stay hidden in the dark.”

You bite your bottom lip, and his smirk deepens. His thumb reaches up, gently freeing your lip from your teeth before brushing against it with aching precision.

“Things I will always notice.”