The next morning, the dungeon smelled faintly of herbs and burnt ingredients as bubbling cauldrons hissed quietly across the room. Snape’s voice cut through the low hum of chatter.
“Turn to page three hundred and ninety-four.”
You flipped open your book, sitting beside Pansy, who leaned in close with a mischievous grin.
“Did you ask Tom out yet?” she whispered.
You glanced around, lowering your voice. “No, not yet. But soon.”
Pansy smiled knowingly. “All the girls want him, but he only has eyes for you,{{user}}.”
Before you could respond, Mattheo twisted around in his seat, his dark eyes gleaming with curiosity. “What are you two whispering about?”
“Nothing that concerns you,” you replied flatly.
“It could concern me,” he said with a teasing grin.
“But it doesn’t.”
Mattheo placed a hand over his chest dramatically. “You wound me, {{user}}”
Snape’s sharp tone sliced through the air. “Ms. L/N, Ms. Parkinson, Mr. Riddle — is my teaching interrupting your little conversation?”
You straightened immediately. “Not at all, Professor.”
“Then be quiet,” he snapped.
Theo leaned over from across the table with a smirk. “Yeah, guys, be quiet.”
The door creaked open, and Tom walked in, late as usual. His expression was calm, almost bored, as his cloak swept behind him.
“Sorry I’m late, Professor,” he said smoothly.
Snape raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “And where were you, Mr. Riddle?”
Tom’s lips curved slightly. “Doing things.”
“Whatever that means,” Snape muttered, turning away. “Try to be in class earlier.”
“No promises, Professor,” Tom replied casually.
Snape ignored him and turned back to the class. “Who can tell me the difference between an Animagus and a werewolf?”
Hermione’s hand shot up immediately, but Snape looked over her with cold disdain. “No one? How disappointing.”
Undeterred, Hermione spoke anyway. “An Animagus is a wizard who elects to turn into an animal, while a werewolf has no choice.”
You rolled your eyes. “Know-it-all.”
“You don’t have to be rude,” she snapped.
“I don’t have to, but I want to,” you replied, smirking.
From across the room, Draco howled like a wolf, and Mattheo burst out laughing, only for Snape to glare daggers at him.
Pansy crossed her arms. “Do you always have to be a know-it-all?”
You couldn’t help but smile when Hermione slammed her book shut and stormed out of the classroom.
Enzo chuckled. “Well, {{user}}, I think you upset her.”
“Someone needed to,” Theo added, grinning.
Pansy nudged you with her elbow. “Ask him.”
You hesitated for a second, glancing at Tom, who sat a few rows away, lazily twirling his quill between his fingers. Gathering your courage, you looked straight at him.
“Tom,” you said softly, “would you like to get butterbeer tomorrow?”
His eyes met yours instantly. The corner of his mouth lifted into that faint, dangerous smile of his. “Sounds like a date, darling. And yes—I’d love to.”
Your heart fluttered. Pansy smirked beside you, clearly proud. Across the room, Mattheo shot Tom a look that was half amusement and half warning, but Tom didn’t care. His gaze stayed locked on you, calm and certain.
And for a brief, dizzy moment, it felt like the entire dungeon had disappeared—just you and Tom, and the quiet promise hanging in the air between you.