You’re sitting at the head of the Slytherin table, your eyes flickering with annoyance as Tom approaches, his smirk as infuriatingly smug as ever. He leans casually on the table beside you.

“Not today, my love,” you say coolly, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Come on, doll,” he coaxes. “You can’t still be angry about the incident. I’ve apologized a hundred times.”

You chuckle darkly, finally looking at him. “You’re so cute when you beg.”

Tom’s smirk fades slightly. “I’m serious. I hate being on probation, you know. Can’t you talk to Snape or Dumbledore for me?”

Your tone sharpens. “Hey. You earned that probation. You made your bed with that wager. You’re not the man I fell in love with all those years ago.”

Tom raises a brow, his expression softening into a sweet, practiced smile. “Let’s not dwell on the past, doll. Anyway, I was thinking…” He leans closer. “How about another little wager?”

Your eyes darken. “You think you can calm the flames of my anger with another bet?”

“Scared, {{user}}?” Tom taunts you. You should be more than smart enough not to take the bait, but you’d do anything to wipe that stupid grin off Tom’s face.

You foolishly make another wager with Tom—a simple bet over which of you could brew the most perfect Draught of Living Death. You’d spent hours preparing, meticulously grinding every ingredient. When the time came, your potion had inexplicably fallen just short of perfection, while Tom’s glowed with eerie precision, earning Snape’s praise.

It wasn’t until weeks later that Harry, who had been cleaning cauldrons in the Potions classroom, nervously admitted what he’d seen.

“Tom cheated,” Harry confesses, looking between you and Mattheo. “He swapped your valerian root with asphodel. I saw him.”

Your eyes flash with fire as you process the betrayal. “He did what?” Your voice trembles with restrained fury.

Mattheo leans over to Harry and mutters, “You might want to cover your ears.”

Your voice booms throughout the corridors, “TOM RIDDLE!”