A cold change
Violet woke to the sensation of icy air biting at her skin. Her fingers were numb, and her cheeks stung with the beginnings of frostbite. She blinked groggily, her breath clouding in front of her face, and realized she was lying on the cold, uneven floor of the Shrieking Shack. A woolen jacket had been draped over her shoulders, its coarse fabric rough against her neck.
As she stirred, groaning softly, she became aware of the soft sounds of snoring around her. Her friends were sprawled in various states of disarray, Theo's arm flung over his face, and Eve curled up like a cat with her cloak pulled tight around her. Belle and Barty were entangled in an awkward heap near the hearth.
She nudged Theo first, his face scrunching as he blearily opened his eyes. "What the hell...?" he mumbled, sitting up and rubbing his temples.
"We fell asleep," Violet whispered, her voice hushed as the reality of their situation sank in. She glanced at her watch, its hands trembling slightly in the early morning cold. "It's six. We've got three and a half hours before class starts. We need to get back to the castle—now."
Eve bolted upright at the mention of the time, her perfect Head Girl composure cracking for a moment. "Six? Oh, Merlin, we're doomed! We'll be caught for sure!"
"Relax," Theo muttered, stifling a yawn. "We've got time. No one's up this early."
"That's what you think," Eve shot back, already pulling on her boots. "Filch and Mrs. Norris live for moments like this. Get up, all of you. Move it!"
As the group groggily rose, Theo approached Violet, his hands stuffed awkwardly into his pockets. "Yours?" he asked, nodding toward the jacket still draped over her shoulders.
"Oh!" Violet flushed, suddenly aware of its warmth. "No, of course, it's not mine. It's yours, isn't it?"
He shrugged, a hint of bashfulness in his expression. "Keep it if you're cold. It's fine."
Violet hesitated, her fingers gripping the edges of the jacket. Theo was never like this—usually, he was cocky, sharp-tongued, and unbothered by anyone's feelings. This moment of unexpected sweetness caught her off guard.
"No, no," she said quickly, holding it out to him. "Here, take it back. I'm fine now."
Theo accepted it without protest, but the exchange didn't go unnoticed by the others. Belle and Eve exchanged knowing looks, their eyebrows raised in silent commentary. Violet rolled her eyes. Whatever they thought, it wasn't like that.
After shaking off the last traces of sleep, the group slipped out of the Shrieking Shack through the secret passage under the Whomping Willow. The tunnel was damp and cold, and their breaths echoed faintly as they hurried toward the castle. When they emerged, dawn was breaking, casting a faint golden glow over the frost-covered grounds.
"This part is easy," Violet murmured as they reached the castle's shadow. "Now it gets tricky."
"How do five of us get past Filch, Mrs. Norris, and McGonagall?" Eve asked, her voice tight with worry.
Barty grinned, his mischievous nature surfacing. "Leave that to me."
"What are you planning?" Violet asked warily, already regretting the question.
"Don't worry about it," he said with a wink. "I'm prepared to sacrifice myself for the greater good."
Before anyone could stop him, Barty took off toward the dungeons, his voice echoing through the halls. "MINNIE! Where are youuuu?"
The rest of the group froze, staring after him in disbelief.
"He didn't," Eve whispered, horrified.
"He did," Theo confirmed, smirking. "Come on. While he's distracting her."
They moved quickly and quietly, darting through shadowed corridors and avoiding the most well-trodden paths. From a distance, they could hear McGonagall's sharp voice shouting after Barty.
"MISTER CROUCH, STOP THIS INSTANT!"
Violet couldn't help but laugh, though her heart pounded with the thrill of nearly being caught. By the time they reached the common room, Barty was already there, lounging on a sofa and grinning like a Cheshire cat.
"Made it," he said smugly, winking at Theo.
"You're impossible," Eve muttered, shaking her head as she climbed the stairs to their dormitory.
Once they were safely inside, Violet let out a long breath, sinking onto her bed. Belle had already collapsed onto hers, pulling the covers over her head, and Eve was muttering something about a hot shower.
As Violet shifted to get more comfortable, she felt something crumpled beneath her. A small, folded piece of parchment. She frowned, smoothing it out.
The words were scrawled in dark, deliberate handwriting:
Come to my room. Now.
—Riddle
Her stomach tightened. She stuffed the note into her pocket, her mind racing. Why was he summoning her so early? Surely, it was about the detention she'd missed—but why the urgency?
Quietly, Violet slipped out of the dormitory. The castle was beginning to stir, the early risers making their way to breakfast, but the corridors were still mostly empty. Riddle's quarters weren't far, and she reached them quickly, though her nerves grew with every step.
When she reached his door, she hesitated, raising her hand to knock. Before her knuckles met the wood, the door swung open.
He stood there, his usual composed appearance conspicuously absent. His dark hair was unkempt, curling slightly over his forehead, and his tie hung loose around his neck. His shirt was wrinkled and partially unbuttoned, revealing a sliver of pale skin. His eyes, sharp and piercing, locked onto hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch.
"Morning, Professor," Violet said, her voice steadier than she felt. "You called me?"
Riddle didn't answer immediately. His gaze swept over her, as if assessing every detail. "Where were you last night?" he asked, his tone low but edged with irritation.
"I... I forgot about detention. I'm sorry," she admitted, feeling small under his scrutiny.
"That's not what I asked," he said sharply, stepping closer. "Where. Were. You?"
Violet hesitated, unsure why it mattered so much. "At the Shrieking Shack. With friends."
"Nott?" he asked, his voice cool but laced with something she couldn't quite place.
"Yes," she said cautiously.
His jaw tightened, and he turned away, pacing the room. The air between them crackled with tension, unspoken words hanging heavy.
"I don't want you spending time with him anymore," he said finally, his voice firm.
Violet bristled. "You can't tell me what to do."
He stopped, his dark eyes burning as he looked at her. "Oh, but I can, doll."
He got closer to her, and as he took a step toward her, she instinctively stepped back. It was a dance of hesitance and dominance until her back met the cold, unforgiving wall. Tom loomed over her, tall and imposing, his dark eyes capturing hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch. She had to tilt her head to look up at him, his face unreadable yet magnetic. He slowly placed a hand on her waist, his touch both firm and possessive, drawing her closer. The space between them diminished until only inches remained, the tension almost unbearable.
His fingers brushed over her lips, sending a shiver through her. The longing between them was palpable, a silent acknowledgment of the forbidden desire that tied them together. For Tom, this yearning was unlike anything he had ever known—raw, unrelenting, and wholly consuming. He had always lusted for power, but this... this was something deeper, something he couldn't control, and it infuriated him.
As he closed the distance, his lips grazing hers in a fleeting, teasing moment, he bit her bottom lip gently, as though testing her resolve. Violet froze, her mind racing. This was wrong—so, so wrong. But when his lips claimed hers with a fierce, unyielding hunger, she melted into the moment. Her hands found their way to his thick curls, tangling in them as he lifted her effortlessly against the wall. His body pressed against hers, commanding and relentless, as if he wanted to imprint this moment into her very being.
Time seemed to stretch as they lost themselves in each other, their boundaries dissolving into the intensity of their connection. But as Violet's trembling hands clung to him, she felt the weight of their reality crashing back. This couldn't happen—it was dangerous, forbidden. Yet, as she pulled back slightly to speak, he silenced her with a finger against her lips, his voice a low whisper.
"Shh," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. "It'll be our little secret."
Tom carried her to the bed, their passion reigniting, but as the minutes ticked by and dawn approached, a change came over him. He disentangled himself from her with an abruptness that left Violet confused and yearning. He sat on the edge of the bed, his back to her, the warmth in his expression replaced by a cold detachment.
"Doll, as much as I would like to indulge this... distraction," he said, his voice clipped and sharp, "I have responsibilities. And so do you."
She blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift. "Tom, I—"
He cut her off with a raised hand, his gaze piercing as he turned to face her. The warmth she had seen moments ago was gone, replaced by the calculated iciness that defined him. "You need to leave," he said bluntly. "We both have appearances to maintain."
The words stung more than they should have. Violet scrambled to her feet, fumbling to straighten her clothes. "Was this all just... a game to you?" she asked, her voice trembling.
His lips curled into a smirk, but it lacked humor. "Do you think so little of yourself, Violet?" he replied, standing to his full height, his presence overwhelming. "I don't play games. But you need to understand that what happened here does not change who I am—or who you are."
She stared at him, searching for any trace of the man who had held her so tenderly just moments ago. Instead, she found only the cold, unyielding professor—the man who had a plan for everything and let nothing, not even his own desires, stand in his way.
"I don't want you around Theo anymore," he added suddenly, his voice like ice. "I won't repeat myself."
Her brow furrowed, anger flaring within her. "You don't get to tell me who I can or can't spend time with," she shot back, her defiance breaking through her confusion.
Tom stepped closer, his expression darkening. "I do," he said simply. "Because you belong to me now."
The weight of his words hung in the air, suffocating and undeniable. Violet opened her mouth to protest, but he silenced her with a look that made her blood run cold. He reached for her face, cupping her chin with a gentleness that belied the steel in his gaze.
"You'll understand soon enough," he said softly, his voice almost tender. "Now go."
Violet hesitated for a moment, her emotions warring within her. But the intensity of his stare left no room for argument. She turned and left his quarters, the echo of the door closing behind her feeling like the slam of a cage.
As she walked the empty corridors back to her dormitory, her mind raced. What had she gotten herself into? And why, despite everything, did part of her crave the fire she had just escaped? Tom Riddle was a dangerous man, and she had just willingly stepped into his world.
And she wasn't sure she'd ever find her way out.