Detention is quiet again.

Too quiet.

Seven Slytherin boys sit in forced obedience, parchment half-filled, patience nonexistent. Mattheo’s knee bounces under the desk. Theo’s eyes flick to the door every few seconds. Blaise looks bored enough to start a war out of pure entertainment.

Tom Riddle hasn’t moved once.

Then the door creaks open.

You slip inside like you belong there, shutting it softly behind you. Your eyes sweep the room slowly, deliberately, taking your time. Every single one of them feels it.

Mattheo’s breath catches. Merlin help him.

You fold your arms, smiling. You know… I didn’t realize detention was invite-only.

Theo mutters under his breath. She’s doing this on purpose.

You stroll between the desks, slow enough to be cruel. You stop behind Mattheo first, leaning just close enough that your shadow falls over his parchment.

That all you’ve written? You sound disappointed. I expected more from you, Riddle.

Mattheo tilts his head back to look at you, voice low. Careful. I work better with… encouragement.

You lean closer, lips hovering just out of reach of his ear. Oh? And what kind of encouragement do you need?

His smirk falters for half a second. The good kind.

You straighten and move on before he can recover.

Cruel.

You pause by Blaise next, glancing down at him. You’re staring.

He doesn’t deny it. You make detention interesting.

You hum thoughtfully. Funny. You make it dangerous.

Enzo lets out a soft laugh. We’re dead.

You stop at Theo, crouching slightly so your eyes are level with his. He swallows.

You enjoying the show?

He smirks. Thoroughly.

You smile. Good. I’d hate to be wasting my time.

Then—Tom.

You stop directly in front of him.

The room goes still.

You take a step closer. Then another. His gaze lifts slowly, dark and unwavering. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look away.

You’re very quiet tonight, Riddle.

His voice is calm, measured. I’m thinking.

You tilt your head. About me?

A pause. Long enough to be intentional.

Among other things.

Mattheo stiffens instantly. Theo raises his brows. Draco mutters something about needing holy water.

You lean down, resting your hands lightly on Tom’s desk. Close. Too close. His eyes flick briefly to your lips, then back to your eyes.

You shouldn’t look at me like that, you murmur.

His tone drops. You shouldn’t stand this close.

Your smile is slow. Or what?

For a moment, the tension is unbearable. Sharp. Electric.

Then footsteps echo in the hall.

You straighten immediately, stepping back with a wicked grin that promises consequences.

Behave yourselves, boys. I’d hate to be the reason you all get extra detention.

You head for the door, pausing just long enough to glance back.

Especially you, Riddle.

The door closes.

Silence.

Mattheo exhales shakily. I need several years to recover from that.

Theo grins. She’s a menace.

Blaise smirks. And she knows it.

Tom lowers his gaze to his parchment at last.

His hand tightens around his quill.

And not a single word gets written.