The Black Lake was still, the surface like obsidian under the moonlight. It was quiet here—away from the saccharine displays of affection littering the castle, away from the lovesick fools exchanging flowers and pointless declarations.

Tom Riddle stood at the water’s edge, the hem of his cloak barely shifting in the cold breeze. He had never cared for Valentine’s Day, had always found it insipid. A distraction.

And yet, he was here.

Waiting.

His fingers brushed over the small box in his pocket, an unfamiliar weight pressing against his palm. He had spent longer than he would ever admit deciding on it. Roses wilted. Chocolates were meaningless.

This was different. You were different.

The faint sound of footsteps on the frost-kissed grass pulled his attention. He didn’t turn immediately, didn’t need to. He knew it was you.

For a moment, he let the silence stretch between you, let the cool night air settle the thoughts still warring in his mind. Then, he pulled the small box from his pocket and held it out to you, his expression unreadable. "Take it before I change my mind."

Inside, there was a silver pendant, shaped into a serpent, gleamed in the moonlight. But as your fingers brushed over it, the metal shifted, the tiny serpent curling and uncurling as if alive. It was laced with his magic, bound to you in a way that no one else could command.

A long pause. Then, in a voice quieter than usual, he finally spoke.

"The world is unworthy of you. So I give you something that listens only to your command—just as I do."