The Slytherin common room buzzed with lazy conversation and the occasional clink of glass. It was late—past curfew—but none of you cared. You were all gathered together as usual, spread out across the plush leather couches and armchairs near the fireplace, the green flames casting shadows that danced across your faces like ghosts.

Draco and Blaise were quietly laughing about something you couldn’t hear, Theo lay upside down over a velvet armchair like he was born to be dramatic, and Enzo sat on the edge of the pool table, tossing a small enchanted coin into the air and catching it each time without looking. Regulus was near the window, arms crossed, always half listening but pretending not to care. Mattheo, on the other hand, was slouched on the couch across from you, legs wide, curls messy, eyes drifting until—

You cleared your throat.

“I think I’m in love with Tom Riddle.”

Every head turned.

There was a beat of silence. And then—

Mattheo sat bolt upright, gawking at you like you’d just said you fancied a Dementor. His expression was comically horrified. “Tom?” His voice cracked halfway through the name. “As in my older brother?”

You nodded once, slowly. “Is there another?”

Draco let out a low whistle. “Bloody hell.”

Blaise raised an eyebrow, smirking. “That’s bold, even for you.”

Regulus chuckled under his breath. “That explains why you’re always glaring at each other like it’s foreplay.”

Theo dramatically flopped to the floor. “This is either going to end in a love story or a murder scene. No in-between.”

Enzo’s coin hit the floor with a metallic ting. “Didn’t peg you as someone with a death wish.”

Mattheo still hadn’t recovered. His mouth opened, then shut, then opened again. “You—Tom?”

You looked around at them all, shrugging a little. “Any thoughts?”

Mattheo stared at you like you were moments from exploding.

“And prayers,” he said finally, rubbing a hand down his face. “You’ll be needing them.”

Blaise chuckled, swirling his drink. “I mean, in fairness, it makes sense. You’ve got that same terrifying energy. Cold. Sharp. Lethal if provoked.”

Draco leaned forward, folding his hands. “But are you in love with him… or the danger?”

You blinked. “Is there a difference?”

That made them pause.

Theo rolled onto his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows. “Honestly, you might be the only person capable of handling Tom Riddle. Or matching him. I’d hate to be anyone who stands in your way.”

Regulus finally turned from the window, watching you with an unreadable expression. “Just be careful,” he said quietly. “Tom isn’t the type to love lightly. Or gently.”

Mattheo scoffed. “He isn’t the type to love at all.”

You met his gaze steadily. “Maybe he doesn’t have to be. Maybe he just needs someone who isn’t afraid of him.”

The common room fell into silence again, but it wasn’t empty—it was full of tension, energy, maybe even a little anticipation.

Behind you, the flames crackled louder for a second, almost like they were reacting to your confession.

Blaise raised his glass lazily. “Well then. To whatever hell this is about to be.”

Theo followed suit. “To chaos. And madness.”

Enzo smirked. “And the girl bold enough to fall in love with a monster.”

Mattheo shook his head, muttering under his breath. “You’re all insane.”

You smiled faintly. “Maybe. But he sees me.”

A sharp click of the stone archway echoed behind you.

Everyone froze.

You turned slowly, pulse hitching. Tom Riddle stood at the edge of the common room, one hand in his pocket, his expression unreadable—eyes locked on you.

“Sees you?” he said, voice smooth and quiet, but razor-sharp. “Now that’s interesting.”

Your breath caught.

The room held its breath.

And Tom took a single, deliberate step forward.