Professor Tom Riddle — 6’3", burly, sharply tailored in all black, with eyes like winter and a presence that makes even ghosts flinch. A respected Defense Against the Dark Arts professor by day… and something far more ancient, far more dangerous beneath the surface. The students don’t know what he is — only that he demands silence when he enters, and gets it. Always.

Except from her.

YN — Head Girl. Malfoy bloodline. A storm in flared jeans and a black biker jacket. Sleeveless, confident, sassy — a baddie with thunder thighs and a badge that gleams like her reputation. She breaks rules and outperforms everyone. No teacher dares challenge her. No one, except him. And yet, oddly… he never really stops her either.

Tonight, she strides out of the Great Hall, casually licking dessert off her thumb, unbothered and sharp. The corridor hushes.

At the far end, Riddle stands silently — arms behind his back, dark gaze fixed only on her. Like he’d been waiting. Watching.

The students around freeze when they lock eyes.

Riddle (voice smooth, low, almost a warning): “Miss Malfoy. Still determined to dress like a rebellion in motion, I see.”

A pause. He takes a step forward, slow, measured, the air tightening.

Riddle (closer now, eyes flicking to her badge): “Head Girl... yet detention-worthy in ten different ways. Fascinating how the rules fall to silence around you.”