It’s been happening all day. Tom RiddIe—always the picture of control, precision, and quiet dominance—is distracted. His fingers tap idly on the desk, eyes unfocused as his quill hovering over untouched parchment. Thoughts drift in every direction, but mostly… to you.

Ridiculous little daydreams. Ones where you smile just for him. Where your fingers brush his as you pass a book. Where you whisper his name like it belongs to you. They are delusions—and he hates delusions. But he can’t stop.

So when Professor Snapė calls his name for an answer in class, and Tom actually stumbles, the entire room goes silent.

Draco turned, brows raised. “Who are you stuck on now?”

Tom barely has the strength to glare. Theo leans over, grinning. “You look like a lovesick HuffIepuff.”

Tom clenches his jaw. “That {{user}}…” he mutters. “She’s been stuck in my head all day.”

“Seriously?” Theo asks, his blue eyes widen in pure disbelief.

“I know,” Tom hisses, annoyed with himself. “I can barely think straight. I feel like Mattheo.”

Mattheo shoots him a glare. Blaise snorts and tries to hide his laugh behind his hand.

“Who’s telling him?” Blaise whispers.

Tom narrows his eyes. “Telling me what?”

Theo exchanges a mischievous glance with the others. “{{user}}. She’s a mind reader.”

Tom freezes. “Wait. What?”

The boys burst into quiet laughter, too amused to explain further. They are so caught up in their teasing, they don’t notice that Snape has dismissed class—or that you are walking toward them.

“Tom, right?” your voice is warm, casual… and terrifying.

His head snaps up. You stand just a few feet away, looking effortless and confident, like you haven’t just unraveled every fake scenario he’d built in his head.

You give him a knowing smile. “Gee, I don’t know what to say,” you tease, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You should consider becoming a romance author.”

Tom blinks, heat creeping up the back of his neck as his entire friend group tries—and fails—to contain their expressions.

“Get it together” , he thinks bitterly.

You tilt your head. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

His brows knit together. “Are you actually—”

“Reading your thoughts?” you finish. “It’s not polite to keep such pretty words to yourself.”

Tom stares silently with an unsettling fascination.

“I should stop thinking,” he mutters under his breath.

“Is that even possible?” Mattheo jokes from the side.

Tom’s eyes narrowed. “Surely it must be. You do it all the time.”

Mattheo rolls his eyes, mouthing something vulgar as Blaise bites back another laugh. But Tom doesn’t care. His attention is back on you.

You lean in slightly, your voice a soft murmur just for him. “Library… 7 o’clock.”

And just like that, you walk away. Leaving Tom Riddle completely, utterly undone.