Admiration...
Violet paced away from the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, her chest tight as if her lungs had shrunken. She couldn't breathe properly, the weight of his presence still suffocating her. Professor Riddle's dark gaze lingered in her mind, haunting her thoughts. It wasn't how a professor should look at a student—it was wrong, inappropriate, forbidden—and yet, she liked it. She craved it. She wanted him to look at her like that again, his eyes pulling her in like a magnetic force.
She shook her head fiercely. No, she couldn't think that way. He was her professor, and worse, there were suspicions that he was involved with Julius and the masked men called Death Eaters. Violet resolved to ignore him, to avoid him at all costs. Her thoughts raced as she headed toward Gryffindor Tower, her goal to lose herself in the chaos of a party. The music grew louder as she ascended the stairs, and the energy of the gathering thrummed in the air.
Violet pushed through the throng of students, the heavy bass of the music reverberating in her chest. The Gryffindor common room was a kaleidoscope of chaos—scarlet and gold banners swayed above the mass of sweaty bodies, enchanted lights flickered like fireflies, and someone had charmed butterbeer bottles to float lazily across the room.
She spotted Molly and Gideon near the fireplace, a cozy little gathering of Gryffindors surrounding them. Molly's radiant smile lit up the space around her, and Violet couldn't help but envy the way Arthur looked at her, his gaze dripping with adoration. The soft affection between them was almost painful to witness—a kind of purity Violet felt she could never have.
"Hey, Vi!" Molly greeted her warmly, though her attention was clearly still on Arthur.
"How's the party so far?" Violet asked, forcing her own smile.
"It's brilliant," Molly replied, a faint blush creeping into her cheeks as Arthur brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. "You should grab a drink! There's punch—or something stronger if you're feeling adventurous."
"I'll leave you two lovebirds to it," Violet teased, earning awkward chuckles from both before she ducked back into the fray.
The heat in the room was stifling, the mingling scents of alcohol, sweat, and cheap perfume making her head spin. She navigated through the crowd, dodging the occasional flailing arm of a dancer. Spotting Theo and Eve slouched on a couch in the corner, she felt a surge of relief and made her way over.
"Well, look who finally made it," Eve drawled, her grin mischievous. "How was detention with Professor Riddle? Did he admire your dress?"
Violet rolled her eyes, sinking into the seat beside them. "I wore a jumper over it. Not that it's any of your business."
Eve's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Shame. I was hoping for a scandal."
Theo groaned dramatically, throwing an arm over his face. "Can we not talk about Riddle? I'm still recovering from my own humiliation."
"What happened?" Violet asked, taking a sip from the drink Eve handed her.
"He tried to kiss a Ravenclaw," Eve interjected before Theo could reply, her tone dripping with mockery. "She slapped him. Hard."
"That's not what happened!" Theo snapped, sitting up straight. "I—she was playing hard to get."
"Sure she was," Eve said, barely containing her laughter.
Violet smirked. "Well, at least you're consistent, Theo."
He muttered something under his breath before reclining again, clearly done with the conversation.
"Come on, Vi," Eve said, grabbing her arm. "Let's dance before the punch runs out."
The music grew louder as they moved to the center of the room. A fast-paced beat vibrated through Violet's veins as she threw herself into the crowd. Eve was already spinning, her hair whipping around her face as she laughed, carefree and wild. Violet followed suit, letting the rhythm take over.
A floating tray of shots hovered nearby, and Violet grabbed one, downing the fiery liquid in a single gulp. She winced as it burned down her throat but quickly reached for another. The warmth spread through her chest, and the room seemed to glow brighter, the edges of her worries blurring into nothingness.
By her third shot, the world around her was a dizzying whirl of laughter, music, and faces. She and Eve sang along to an off-tune rendition of the Weird Sisters' latest hit, their voices lost in the cacophony. Violet didn't care—didn't care about Julius, or Riddle, or the dangerous allure of his dark eyes. For once, she felt free, untethered by the weight of her own thoughts.
As the night wore on, the room grew even more crowded. Someone had conjured colorful sparks that rained down like a miniature firework display, eliciting cheers from the crowd. Violet found herself pulled into a circle of dancers, spinning and swaying until she could barely stand.
Eventually, the heat and the alcohol became too much. The walls seemed to close in, and she stumbled toward the exit, gasping for air. The cool night hit her like a slap, and she leaned against the stone wall outside, letting the crisp breeze clear her head.
She hadn't realized how far she'd wandered until the noise of the party faded into the distance. The dark corridors of the castle stretched before her, and somewhere deep in her chest, a strange sense of foreboding stirred. But she brushed it aside. The Astronomy Tower was calling her, its solitary height offering the escape she craved.
As she neared the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, her heart sank. The door was ajar, candlelight flickering from within. She hesitated, her drunken mind grappling with indecision. But her curiosity won. She peered inside, catching a glimpse of him.
Tom Riddle sat at his desk, immersed in a thick tome. His sharp features were softened by the golden glow of the candlelight, making him appear almost angelic. Violet's breath hitched. She darted past the door, her bare feet slapping against the cold stone as she ascended the stairs to the tower. She was halfway up when her foot slipped. She braced for impact, but it never came.
Strong arms caught her, steadying her trembling form. She looked up, her heart pounding as she met his piercing gaze. Professor Riddle's face was inches from hers, his breath warm against her chilled skin. His eyes flicked briefly to her lips before locking onto hers.
"Miss Alas," he said smoothly, his voice a low murmur. "Out for a stroll at this hour? Barefoot, no less?"
Violet's cheeks burned. "I... slipped," she stammered, her words slurred. "You caught me."
"Indeed," he replied, a faint smile playing on his lips. His hand tilted her chin, his thumb brushing away the smudged lipstick. The gesture was intimate, lingering. "You're drunk, Miss Alas."
"I like when you call me that," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
His smile deepened, though it remained enigmatic. "Is that so?" he murmured, his tone almost teasing. But his gaze was intense, as though he were searching for something within her.
For a fleeting moment, the world stilled. The air between them crackled with unspoken tension. Then he stepped back, his expression unreadable.
"It's cold," he said. "Let me take you to your dormitory."
Without waiting for her protest, he scooped her into his arms. She rested her head against his chest, her eyelids heavy. For the first time, she felt safe. But beneath the surface of his composed demeanor, Tom's thoughts churned. He despised weakness, yet something about Violet unsettled him. She occupied his mind in ways he couldn't ignore. He wanted to possess her, to understand her, to control her—and it infuriated him.
By the time they reached the Slytherin common room, Violet was nearly asleep. Tom watched her disappear inside, lingering longer than he should. He clenched his fists, irritated by his own vulnerability.
***
The next morning, Violet woke with a pounding headache. Memories of the previous night were hazy, like fragments of a dream. She recalled the Astronomy Tower, a fleeting warmth, and... him. Groaning, she dragged herself out of bed, her reflection in the mirror a chaotic mess of smudged mascara and tangled hair.
She arrived late to Divination, her tie askew and books hastily stuffed into her bag. Professor Bashiri greeted her kindly, offering a cup of tea for the day's lesson on Tasseomancy. As the students read their fortunes, the room buzzed with curiosity and trepidation.
When her turn came, Bashiri's brow furrowed as she examined Violet's cup. "I see danger," she said solemnly. "You will lose many you care about because of the one you love most. He will be your undoing."
Violet's stomach dropped. The one she loved most? Her brother Julius came to mind, but doubt clouded her thoughts. She resolved to meet him, to demand answers face to face. Scribbling a brief note, she sent her owl with a message to arrange a meeting.
As the day dragged on, Violet's resolve faltered. The weight of her professor's gaze lingered in her mind, his voice a haunting echo. She couldn't escape the sense that something dark was stirring, something inevitable. And no matter how much she tried to deny it, she knew Tom Riddle would be at the center of it all.