Threads of temptation
"Why are you looking at him like that?" Julius's voice was low but laced with venom, and his fingers tightened around Violet's arm as he pulled her away from the crowd. His dark eyes burned with an intensity that made her stomach churn.
Violet's heart skipped a beat, panic rising within her like a thick fog. Her breath caught in her throat, and for a split second, she froze. What was he talking about? Her mind spun, racing with a thousand thoughts. Like what? Her eyes darted nervously to Tom, who was still speaking to a group of wealthy wizards, his smooth, melodic voice flowing effortlessly through the room. Did Julius notice something? Was he suspicious?
"Like what?" she repeated, her voice shaking slightly as she tried to sound calm, though the tension in the air was suffocating.
Julius's expression darkened even further, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Violet, I'm not stupid. And I know you're not either." He leaned in closer, his words cold, almost accusing. "Whatever you're hiding behind those eyes... it needs to stop. Because if it doesn't, even I won't be able to save you."
Her heart pounded in her chest. What was he really saying? Was he worried about her? Or was he worried about Tom? She could feel the pull of her brother's gaze on her, the desperation in his voice, but at the same time, the fear and the fascination she felt for Tom swelled within her, completely overwhelming her. It was as though two opposing forces were fighting for control of her thoughts and actions.
Violet swallowed hard, her mouth dry as she tried to collect her thoughts. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, though she already knew the answer. She could feel the connection between her and Tom like an invisible thread, taut and unyielding. She didn't understand it. How could she? It was absurd. She barely knew him, yet she couldn't ignore the undeniable pull he had on her.
Julius seemed to sense her hesitation, his expression softening just for a moment. "Violet, listen to me, for once," he said, his tone now pleading, something she rarely heard from him. "I'm trying to protect you. Please—just stop. Whatever this is, it won't end well. For you. For him."
For a brief, fleeting moment, Violet felt guilt stab through her heart. Julius, the brother who had raised her, cared for her—he was desperate, but the invisible tie between her and Tom could not be severed. No matter how hard she tried to ignore it, no matter how much she wanted to listen to her brother, there was something inside of her that had already chosen.
"I will," she lied, her voice barely audible, the words coming out mechanically. She knew it was a hollow promise, but it was enough to quiet Julius for the time being. She could see the faint flicker of relief in his eyes before he turned away, clearly unconvinced.
But Violet wasn't listening anymore. She was already looking for him—looking for Tom. Her eyes scanned the crowd, desperate for a glimpse of the one person who made her heart race, who pulled her in like a moth to a flame.
And then, she saw him.
Tom wasn't with the group of pure-blood elites anymore. His presence had shifted, and now, amidst the grand hall filled with the richest of wizards, he stood alone, isolated in his own world. His eyes, the color of storm clouds, met hers, and she felt a surge of electricity run through her. It was as if he had been waiting for her to find him, to notice him in the sea of faces. The briefest of smiles flickered across his lips, and it was enough to make her heart flutter.
Without thinking, Violet excused herself from the conversation she was trapped in and made her way to the door leading outside. Her breath hitched with anticipation. She needed air. She needed him. The cold night wrapped around her like a cloak as she opened the door, stepping out into the snow-covered yard.
The night air bit at her cheeks, but she didn't care. The snow fell gently, its purity making the world feel still and alive at the same time. She could see the outline of the garden ahead, its beauty stark against the whiteness of the snow. It was full of bright red roses, their color vivid against the snowy backdrop—like blood against the ice, a stark reminder of the world she was entering. A world of danger, of secrets, of temptations she didn't fully understand.
Violet's footsteps echoed softly against the old marble path, the cold night air kissing her cheeks as she made her way toward the small fountain at the center of the garden. The snow crunched underfoot, each step a reminder of the stillness surrounding her. The garden was quiet, peaceful, yet there was a tension in the air, an unspoken anticipation. It wasn't the kind of night one could walk alone on without a sense of something hanging in the balance.
And then, there he was. Tom.
He stood by the frozen fountain, his tall form a silhouette against the pale moonlight. He was dressed in a sharp black suit, the fabric glistening with small droplets of snow that had settled on his dark hair. He exhaled a puff of smoke from the cigar he held between his fingers, his gaze fixed on the icy water before him. The sight of him, standing so still and commanding, made her heart beat faster.
"You know, I heard you since you opened the door," his voice broke the silence, smooth and deep. He turned slowly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You don't know how to be quiet, doll." His eyes gleamed in the moonlight, mischievous yet predatory.
Before she could respond, he closed the distance between them and kissed her, his lips meeting hers with an urgency that left her breathless. The kiss was long and passionate, as though he had been waiting for this moment for an eternity. It was as if he couldn't get enough of her, and she couldn't bring herself to pull away.
"Well, I wasn't trying to be quiet," Violet whispered softly against his lips, her words barely a murmur. "I wanted you to hear me."
Tom didn't answer right away. Instead, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly against him, as if afraid she might slip away. She was so small in his embrace, so delicate, so young. He couldn't help but feel a need to protect her, to shield her from the dangers of the world that lay outside their shared bubble. His arms tightened around her, a subtle possessiveness that only seemed to grow stronger with every passing moment.
The dress she wore was perfect on her—dark, elegant, and undeniably stunning. He'd chosen it for her, made sure it was exactly what he wanted, and it fit her as though it had been made just for her. The rich black fabric clung to her curves in all the right places, and for a moment, Tom felt a flicker of pride—she was his, and no one else could compare.
Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, her bottom lip trembling slightly, and Tom's heart clenched. Without a word, he removed his coat and wrapped it around her fragile shoulders, pulling her closer into the warmth of his embrace. The gesture stirred something in him, an old memory creeping into his mind. He recalled the first time he had given her his coat, that night in the corridor at Hogwarts when they had shared their first conversation.
It had been a moment he couldn't forget, because it was the night he realized something about her—something that no one else had ever made him feel before. She had awakened something inside him, something he couldn't quite name but could no longer ignore.
As he brushed his fingers gently over her porcelain skin, his thoughts were momentarily consumed with the past, the path they were on, and the future that seemed to pull them forward, regardless of how dangerous it might be.
"I—Julius knows... about us," Violet's voice broke through his thoughts, barely above a whisper. She stared out at the night, her gaze fixed on the snowflakes drifting through the air, the weight of her words sinking in.
Tom didn't flinch, didn't look surprised. He had known this was coming. "That's no problem," he said, his voice calm, measured, as if it was the least of his worries. He adjusted his grip around her waist, pulling her closer as though she might vanish if he let go. "He's a friend of mine, as you know. I'll reason with him."
Violet's heart sank as she looked up at him, concern flashing in her eyes. "But Tom, you don't understand," she said quietly, her voice filled with worry. "He said that this has to end, or something bad will happen." The words felt heavier now, as though the danger that loomed in her brother's warning was finally starting to make sense.
Tom sighed softly, as if he were weary of the same concerns she'd raised time and time again. He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke. "Do you trust me?"
Violet's heart fluttered in her chest. She had no words, only a small nod in response. She wanted to believe in him, wanted to trust that he could make everything right. His calm demeanor, his confidence—it made her feel safe, even when the world around them seemed to be crumbling.
"Then trust me," he whispered again, his voice firm but gentle. "I'll take care of it. Don't worry about it at all."
Violet went to speak again, but before she could, Tom's hand moved to cover her lips, silencing her with a gesture that felt both possessive and tender. "Shh," he murmured. "I said I'll take care of it, doll. Don't worry."
She pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around him, her body melting into the warmth of his embrace as she breathed in the scent of him—strong, masculine, and somehow comforting. His presence was like a shield around her, keeping the cold, the uncertainty, and the looming threat of her brother's disapproval at bay. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to drown in the moment, to forget everything except the feeling of his arms around her, the sound of his heartbeat beneath her ear, and the way he made her feel.
In that embrace, she felt as though nothing else mattered.
And for the first time in a long while, she felt truly safe.
***
Tom looked down at Violet, his dark eyes searching hers. There was something about the quiet of the night, the falling snow, that made the world feel still, as though time itself had slowed. Violet's voice broke the silence, a soft and tentative question hanging in the air.
"You know, I realized... I don't know that much about you," she said, her words hesitant but filled with genuine curiosity. She tilted her head slightly, watching him, hoping he would offer a glimpse into the mystery that surrounded him.
Tom raised an eyebrow, the flicker of amusement in his gaze. "What do you want to know?" he replied, his voice low and smooth, a hint of teasing in it as his fingers brushed lightly through her hair, a gesture of care he rarely offered.
Violet bit her bottom lip, a slight frown pulling at her features. "Well... I don't know much about your childhood. Did you like your time at school, is that why you decided to teach at Hogwarts? You know, the little things—like what's your favorite color? We never really talked about those things." She paused, her eyes searching his for any sign of vulnerability.
Tom's fingers stilled in her hair, his expression becoming distant for a moment, as though he were weighing something in his mind. He had never been one to talk about his past. It wasn't out of distrust—he would give everything for her, trust her with his life without hesitation. But his past was dark, filled with shadows he wasn't sure she needed to see. He didn't want to taint her innocence with his own misery.
Violet noticed the shift in him and leaned closer, her voice soft and understanding. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," she added, almost as if she sensed the hesitation within him. "I just wanted to know you better."
Tom's eyes softened slightly, and he exhaled a quiet breath before he finally spoke, the words heavier than usual.
"So, I grew up in an orphanage," he began, his voice laced with a quiet bitterness. "It wasn't a very nice or wonderful childhood... though the experience taught me more than I'd ever want to know. I'd like to tell you there were good things there, but there weren't. You're lucky, Violet. At least you had Julius. He may not be perfect, but you had someone."
Violet's heart clenched at his words, her hand instinctively reaching for his. There was something about his vulnerability in this moment that stirred her—Tom Riddle, the powerful and enigmatic man she had come to know, had once been a boy left alone in the world.
He continued, his gaze distant as if lost in the past. "I was the best student in my school days. I loved it, actually. Always learning, always pushing for more. That's what inspired me to become a professor, to teach others what I knew, so they could be better than I was."
He paused for a moment, and Violet could see the flicker of something—regret, perhaps, or a painful memory—cross his face. "And finally, the color black," he said softly, his eyes meeting hers again. "Darkness. It's the color of your eyes, you know."
Violet blinked, the weight of his words settling over her. The idea that he saw her eyes as a reflection of the very thing he embraced—darkness—was strangely fitting. It made sense, and yet, she wanted to resist it. She didn't want to be defined by the shadows, not when she still had so much light left in her.
She smiled faintly, trying to lighten the mood. "You didn't have to answer like I was interrogating you, you know? I just wanted to know more about you. You're like this great mystery, Tom Riddle. You know everything about everyone, but no one knows anything about you."
Tom's lips curled into a small, almost imperceptible smile, a rare warmth flickering in his eyes as they locked with hers. "Well, you know more than others," he said, his voice lowering, a tinge of sincerity in his tone. "I guess that makes you special."
The world seemed to halt as their eyes met—an invisible force pulling them closer. In that moment, everything else faded into the background. The cold wind, the snowflakes falling around them, the distant sounds of the manor—they all disappeared. It was just the two of them, suspended in time, caught in the pull of something neither of them had fully understood but both felt undeniably.
"I guess it does," Violet murmured, her voice soft, almost as if she were speaking a secret only they shared.