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Chapter Text

September 1st

Tom Riddle did not have friends.

At least, not in the conventional sense.

Sure, he had followers - Lestrange, Avery, Rosier, Mulciber, Nott and Dolohov - but did he consider them friends? Tom glanced up from his musings at the boys who surrounded him in the compartment.

Out of all of them, he found Lestrange the most bearable. He was more aware than the others, and his father held valuable connections in the Ministry. Connections which would serve Tom well once he graduated.

He didn't care much for the other boys, but they were loyal through fear, so he tolerated them. He despised Dolohov the most however; he was thick, boarish, and took simple pleasure from being cruel. It was the latter qualities for which Tom kept him around.

The door slid open to reveal Alphard Nott, the only member of the group who was missing. Tom noted the receding blush that had once coloured his cheeks, and internally rolled his eyes. What poor witch had he already cornered on the train?

"So?" Dolohov leaned forwards, a rakish look in his eyes. Nott raised a single, delicate black eyebrow in response.

"So what?" Nott suddenly seemed extremely interested in his chocolate frogs.

"Who has you blushing so much?" Avery jibed, also joining in. Nott remained silent, refusing to talk. It wasn't often that Nott kept quiet about a potential interest. In fact, Tom recalled in complete boredom, this would have been first.

His followers grew rowdier in their jesting, with even Lestrange (who was usually more reserved) joining in.

"Enough." Tom didn't need to raise his voice, and yet the effect was instant. The rest of them quieted, looking chastised. He let a few minutes of silence pass, before he gave in to his curiosity. Anything to make the train ride less dull.

"I must confess, I too find myself curious. Do share." Tom drawled, his eyes sliding lazily over to Nott.

Clearing his throat uncomfortably, Nott stalled for as long as he dared before he began to speak.

"Her name is Evelyn Bennett. She's to begin her sixth year at Hogwarts. I hadn't seen her before, so I struck up a conversation." another pause. "I find her rather beautiful."

Rosier and Mulciber went 'ooh' in unison, jostling each other in easy camaraderie. Nott gave a small smile, the blush creeping upon his cheeks again.

"Wait," Lestrange looked thoughtful, Tom knew what he was going to say. "She's beginning her sixth year? How is that possible?" It was unheard of for a student to start Hogwarts so late. Nott could only shrug in response. He hadn't been brave enough to linger and speak to her further, finding her presence somewhat intimidating.

Avery snorted in distaste. "She sounds like a mudblood. Make sure she's nothing more than a fling." The boys started hassling Nott for more information, leaving Tom's mind to wander.

A new student starting in sixth year? Tom propped himself against the window, watching the world fly by. He had feared Hogwarts would prove boring this year, after the excitement of the Chamber of Secrets and the basilisk in his fifth year. This new girl will be the curiosity of the school for the next month, before she too would fade into obscurity. Just like everyone else.

Evelyn Bennett had been dreading this day for months.

Hogwarts.

She had dreamed of attending this school ever since she was little, furious with her aunt for refusing to send her there.

"You mother and father wanted you to be home-schooled, Evelyn. I must carry out their wishes, Evelyn. Please understand."

Her aunt was a quiet, no-nonsense witch. Elizabeth Eversong was her mother's sister. She never raised her voice, and watched over her niece with a detached sort of care. The loss of her sister had taken a massive toll on her, and she never married, dedicating her time to her job at St Mungo's and Evelyn's education.

When Elizabeth felt that the muggle war was becoming too much, she informed her niece that she would be safer at Hogwarts.

Evelyn had been ecstatic, however as September 1st drew nearer she suddenly felt herself becoming sick with nerves. Her aunt had never had much of a social life, and so by extension neither had she. Evelyn had never had a problem with it before. Sure, she had the occasional pang of loneliness, and she would on occasion worry if she would ever have her first kiss, but all in all, she was perfectly fine with her own company.

Arriving at the platform however, and seeing the sheer amount of other people - namely teenagers - milling about, with all their noise and laughter, she had nearly begged her aunt to let her stay.

Evelyn had boarded the train, her hands sweating as she realised with horror that everyone was entering into private compartments. She fretted internally, hoping she could find an empty one quickly and save herself any embarrassment.

In her anxiety she walked straight into someone, hard enough to send her staggering back a few steps.

"I'm sorry." Evelyn examined the boy before her; he was tall, with jet black hair and handsome features. She pretended not to notice his blush, and after a heartbeat of awkward silence, she held out her hand. Her aunt had taught her to have good manners, after all.

"Evelyn Bennett." She smiled, small and warm, and hoped she didn't look completely out of her element.

He cleared his throat. "Alphard Nott. Pleasure to meet you."

He has smooth hands. Evelyn noted, very nervous at one of her first proper interactions with the opposite sex.

"Likewise." Evelyn tried not to fidget. Why wasn't he saying anything? Should she say something instead? "Excuse me, I must find a seat." Evelyn started to walk past him, mortified.

"Wait," Alphard at last spoke, "I've never seen you before?"

"I'm new. I'll be starting my sixth year at Hogwarts." Evelyn felt slight elation at the continued conversation. Perhaps he could be a friend? Alphard quirked a brow, smiled blindingly at her and then left.

Deciding not to dwell on it, Evelyn soon came to realise that every compartment had been taken. Squaring her shoulders, she decided to lightly knock on one at random. It slid open, revealing three people; two boys, and a girl. They paused mid-conversation and looked at her.

"Hello," Evelyn smiled politely, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but every cabin seems to be full. May I join you?"

"Of course." The girl moved over, smiling in welcome. She had a very kind face, round and with large, hazel eyes. "My name is Harriet." Further introductions were made. Evelyn learnt that the two boys were called Alaric Blackwood and Harriet's brother, Adrian Fern.

They slipped back into easy conversation, making sure to include Evelyn, which she truly appreciated.

Friends? She wondered hopefully, committing their names to her memory. The conversation eventually turned to Evelyn's story, and she explained how she would be starting her sixth year.

"Your aunt must've pulled some serious strings to get you in here." Adrian commented with a mouth full of sweets, "No one has ever started Hogwarts in their sixth year before. Or ever, actually."

"What house do you think you'll be in?" Alaric asked conversationally.

Evelyn had given it a great deal of thought, and she had her answer already.

"I believe I'll be sorted into Ravenclaw. I love to read." She confessed the latter part almost shyly.

All three of her hopefully-to-be friends nodded in agreement. "That's a good house!" Harriet exclaimed. "I think we'll be good friends. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw have most of their lessons together." Warmth blossomed in Evelyn's chest, maybe Hogwarts wasn't going to be so bad.

Evelyn was appropriately in awe of the Great Hall, just as all the first years were. Alaric and Adrian smirked from their respective seats at her slack-jawed expression. Alaric was sat in Slytherin, Adrian with his twin sister in Hufflepuff.

Armando Dippet cleared his throat. "Before the first years are sorted, Hogwarts welcomes a new student, who will be starting her sixth year here." A murmur rippled through the students, causing Evelyn to turn fiercely red in the face as all eyes turned to her.

Tom Riddle watched as the new student, Evelyn Bennett, walked up to the Sorting Hat. Her gait was confident, her shoulders set straight, yet he could see the tell-tale signs of nerves. Nott was right, she was indeed beautiful, not that outward appearances had any effect on him. The new girl had long, dark hair that reached her mid-back. She wore it down, with minimal makeup. Her eyes were a striking dark blue. She had delicate features, yet she didn't look like she would break if she weren't handled with care.

Nott - ever the hopeless romantic - couldn't keep his eyes off of her. Tom nearly rolled his eyes, he didn't need his followers distracted by a female. They still had a lot of work to do this year.

The hat seemed to debate, before eventually shouting Slytherin. Evelyn couldn't even hide the shock on her face, visible to all. The table clapped politely as she walked over, looking uncertain.

"Evelyn!" Alaric called out to her, shuffling over so she had space to sit next to him. She smiled gratefully and made a beeline, settling next to him straight away. "What happened to Ravenclaw?" he teased, green eyes bright.

He clapped her on the back gently in welcome, before turning back to face the first years. The many curious eyes of students would drift over her way every once in a while during the evening, but Alaric was a surprisingly firm presence, never letting her feel overwhelmed.

Evelyn let Alaric chat happily away as she ate, tentatively deciding to place him in the 'friend' category. No one else tried to make conversation with her, but she didn't mind. Her first night at Hogwarts so far didn't seem like a disaster.

Evelyn claimed the only available bed in the dorm-room, noting how comfortable it felt. The room felt cold and foreign, especially as the other girls trickled in. They all had classic pureblood airs about them, making Evelyn nervous.

"Hello. I'm Seraphina Waldorf." Seraphina was striking in that particular pureblood way. Tall, slim, aristocratic features. Hair pulled neatly behind her head in a caramel bun, not a strand out of place.

"Evelyn Bennett." They shook hands. The other girls introduced themselves, but Evelyn found that she soon forgot the names, the events of the day making her feel tired.

"Half-blood?" one of them asked, not unkindly. Evelyn's mouth dried, but she nodded. "Best not to shout about it, although your surname gives it away." the girl drew her bed-curtains shut, as did the others.

Evelyn took a moment to steady her breath before she too went to bed.

Evelyn woke up to the sounds of the other girls getting ready. They had it down to an art - dancing around each other in precision that came from years of living together. Evelyn, unsure on how to insert herself, headed to the bathroom to freshen up. By the time she came out, the other girls had already left, and she let out a quiet puff of air she hadn't realised she'd been holding.

They hadn't been nasty by any stretch, but they also weren't the most…inclusive.

Evelyn shrugged, maybe she could find Alaric and hang around with him?

She reached the common-room and had no such luck though. Looks like she'd be starting her first official day alone.

Evelyn's first two weeks at Hogwarts flew by in a blur. It quickly became apparent that she would have been more suited to Ravenclaw. She constantly had her nose in a book, she was quiet but not shy, she had manners, was beautiful, and all around a bit of a mystery.

Her being a half-blood didn't cause her as many problems as she had feared. The girls in her year were friendly enough, in a reserved manner. They were polite, never horrible, but they didn't make much effort with her. The boys were slightly warmer, she had exchanged a few quiet words with Nott in-between lessons, and Alaric was quickly turning into a reliable source of jokes or a quick smile when she was alone in a hallway. Sometimes he accompanied her to class, other times he'd invite her to study with him, Adrian and Harriet.

They weren't really friends, but it was the best Evelyn had at the moment. She was just grateful to be included at all.

There was one boy however, who had definitely caught her attention. Tom Riddle. A walking enigma, devastatingly handsome, intelligent, polite…the list could go on and on. He was almost too perfect. Evelyn could see right through him. Well, not entirely, but she couldn't bring herself to fawn over him like the rest of the girls did, and nor could she fully believe that someone could be that perfect.

They hadn't exchanged words yet, or even a shared look (whether accidental or not). Evelyn was certain he didn't even know she existed. She didn't mind though, she had never been overly impressed by looks alone, and she was content enough to admire his sharp jawline every once in a while before moving on.

It was in her third week at Hogwarts where she caught Tom's attention, during Defence Against the Dark Arts with Professor Merrythought. She was an eccentric lady, bold and very talented in what she did. Evelyn found herself admiring her already.

"Bennett!" Merrythought barked, making the room go silent. Like a deer in the headlights, Evelyn felt her face go hot as everyone turned to stare at her.

"Yes Professor?" she replied.

"Come to the front, please." She did as she was told. "This will be our first duelling lesson!" the class broke out into excited whispers. "Now then, Professor Dippet has assured me that you are able to participate in my classes - but make no mistake!" Merrythought stopped pacing to stare at Evelyn. "This class is not for beginners! Mr Riddle!" Tom stood and moved swiftly to the front to join the two women.

"Yes Professor?"

"You'll be duelling Bennett today. I wish to see what we're working with!" She clapped her hands with a flourish before stepping to the side. "Nothing too nasty - I do not want anyone going to the hospital wing today! But don't be shy. Go easy on her Mr Riddle." Merrythought smiled kindly at Evelyn, and winked at Tom before stepping back further.

She briefly scanned the crowd, looking for any friendly face. She spotted Alaric, who made eye-contact and mouthed 'good luck'. Her lips twitched in a smile just for him before focusing back on Tom. She could duel well enough, although she wouldn't be fighting Dark Wizards any time soon, she could hold herself well enough for help to arrive in that situation.

"Bow." Merrythought barked.

Evelyn dipped her head, whilst Tom gave her the barest of nods, eyes sharp and dark in the light.

"Begin!"

Evelyn moved first, an Expelliarmus whizzing out of her wand before she even moved.

Always take the enemy by surprise. Tom blocked it effortlessly, lazily. If he was surprised by her speed and boldness, his face didn't show it.

"Petrificus Totalus." the spell skimmed her shoulder harmlessly, fizzling out somewhere behind her.

She fired off a Stupefy and then an Impedimenta in quick succession, ducking expertly under a quiet spell he cast.

"Protego." Tom was not exerting any effort so far, however he was mildly impressed by her gall. He almost looked bored. Evelyn huffed, suddenly wanting to impress both him and the rest of the class.

"Reducto!" his shield shattered on impact, the force of her cast making him take a step back. The class broke out into rippled chatter, surprised.

Tom raised his eyebrows, a small smirk gracing his lips.

They continued to duel, although Evelyn didn't have the same amount of stamina as Tom. She was quickly getting tired, being forced to physically duck out of the way more often enough as he increased his speed.

He was playing with her. Incensed, she used the ace up her sleeve. She knew some wandless magic, and used a silent 'Accio' on Tom. His eyes widened slightly as he was sent skittering towards her, for a second unsure of what had happened.

Triumph lit up Evelyn's face for a brief second, planning to knock him to the ground, but he swiftly recovered, casting his own wandless spell. She didn't have time to block before realising that she he had cast the tickling charm on her.

She broke out into peals of laughter before a smooth disarming spell sent her wand soaring.

The class erupted into claps, with Professor Merrythought looking thoroughly impressed.

"Bravo, bravo!" she called, "I think you'll do just fine in this class, Miss Bennett!" Evelyn gratefully accepted her wand back from Riddle, inclining her head towards him in respect for a duel well fought.

The class continued after that, although Alaric immediately sought her out.

"That was amazing!" he enthused, pulling her into a one armed hug. "The only person who can really make him sweat is Lestrange, but you weren't far off with that surprise move you pulled at the end!" Evelyn hummed happily, enjoying the feeling of being engulfed in Alaric's arms.

Tom, meanwhile, was completely tuned out of the lesson.

That Bennett girl…she acknowledged me as if we were actually peers.

The audacity.

Tom was incensed…and reluctantly impressed by her performance. If they were really fighting, he would have wiped her out in a second, but for the pretenses of the classroom, she had made him think outside the box. Something he hadn't had to do in a while.

When she had joined Slytherin, he expected her to fawn over him just as everyone else did. But he had been proven wrong when she kept to herself, barely speaking to anyone, yet always polite, and friendly when given the chance. He had only kept an eye on her for the first two day before he quickly lost interest, deciding she was boring and useless just like everyone else.

Tom wasn't oblivious though; he noticed her stolen glances at him. They weren't often, and not intrusive enough to repulse him. The other girls in the school had learned rather quickly that Tom was categorically unavailable. He had allowed himself to admire her beauty for a fraction of a second in History of Magic, when he had been particularly bored, and then that was that.

Once the lesson had ended, Evelyn had actually sought him out.

"You're a good dualist." She smiled, small yet sincere, before departing quickly, not giving him a chance to offer her one of his rehearsed, polite replies. He watched her disappear out of the classroom, pulling out a book as she did so.

The rest of September passed without incident. Tom didn't bother himself with Evelyn, although in lessons her presence had started to grow on him. She was proving herself to be intelligent, and one time he even found himself enjoying a witty debate with her in Transfiguration about the mechanics behind a particular spell.

She never went out of her way to sit near him, but she didn't avoid him either. If they happened to look in each other's direction and make eye contact, she would dip her head in calm respect, or send him an almost imperceptible smile.

Tom ignored her the first few times, but then begrudgingly would dip his head back ever so slightly in acknowledgement. He found it all vaguely unsettling, the way she seemed to exist and be invisible at the same time. Outside of their shared lessons, Tom forgot she existed. In lessons however, he found himself intrigued to see what she would say.

Sometimes she kept quiet, allowing Tom to quietly forget she was there. Other times she would say something intelligent or ask a curious yet well-thought out question. Eventually, Tom found himself almost looking forward to their next debate.

Almost, though. They'd only had one actual conversation, back in Transfiguration class. Between Dolohov's dullness and Mulciber's incompetence, and the general population of Hogwarts being beneath him, Bennett offered a brief respite of bearable conversation.

Tom decided he'd keep an eye on Evelyn, out of sheer curiosity more than anything else, for now.

Chapter Text

Evelyn's first two weekends at Hogwarts had been uneventful but bearable. She'd wandered through the Herbology greenhouses, skimmed stones across the lake's surface, and lost herself in the endless shelves of the library. Most days she preferred the quiet refuge the library offered, still unsure of her place with Alaric, Adrian, and Harriet.

They welcomed her whenever she was present, usually dragged along by her Slytherin acquaintance, but she couldn't help but feel like an intruder in a friendship that had already settled into its rhythm.

Is it normal to feel like this? Perhaps if I keep hanging out with them, eventually it will feel natural? Thoughts like that terrorised Evelyn every day, and she cursed at her lack of social experience. She also didn't want to annoy Alaric by trailing around after him all the time - he had his own circle of friends within Slytherin, people she hadn't met yet - who claimed his attention as well.

Still, he was quick to share a joke with her, or wave from across the common room whenever he could. He had even walked her to their next shared lesson earlier on in the week, a gesture that made Evelyn feel like she belonged.

He teetered on the edge of 'acquaintance' and 'friend', and she sincerely hoped he'd eventually fall into the latter category. She appreciated him more than he could know.

Evelyn had spent the morning by herself, and then a pleasant afternoon with Harriet in the Herbology greenhouses, helping her tend to her Mandrake project. That had been especially enjoyable, the Hufflepuff having a bubbly, warm personality that Evelyn found comforting.

She couldn't bring herself to join Harriet when she invited her along to watch Alaric's Quidditch practice. Evelyn had suddenly felt shy, unsure of Alaric's reaction to her being there with his friends.

The afternoon eventually gave way to the evening, and Evelyn found herself once again in the library. Bored with her usual routine of dusty books and their ancient tales, she simply wandered through the shelves, heading towards the restricted section.

She would never go in there, of course, but she had been categorically warned that under no circumstances were students allowed there unless they had a pass from a professor. Still, she hadn't actually seen that section with her own eyes.

She paused in surprise as her eyes met a pair equally as dark. Tom Riddle of all people stepped out of the restricted section, looking perfectly content with his actions. He came to a stop when he saw Evelyn staring at him, his gaze assessing her coolly.

"Bennett." he inclined his head, picking up his pace again to sit at a nearby table. Evelyn hesitated for a fraction of a second before she slowly followed him, hovering nearby against a bookcase.

"What are you reading?" She asked. Tom looked up, although he didn't answer immediately. It was an innocent enough question; not probing, nor accusatory. Simply interested in what he was doing.

Tom let the silence drag a little too long, hesitating himself. Lying felt…unnecessary. He cleared his throat and flashed the cover of his book at her.

"Transmutation rituals. Rare ones." His response was clipped, not quite a a dismissal but a hidden warning - 'don't ask anymore questions'. Evelyn considered him evenly, weighing up her options. It would be easy enough for her to leave. Riddle valued his space and was precious with his time, Evelyn didn't think she'd ever seen him simply relax. He was always doing something that looked important. Even simply reading a book in the common room looked like he was working on a solution to save the world.

However, Evelyn had experienced the taste of conversation now after her self-imposed solitary afternoon.

"Are you looking to turn someone into a toad?" She teased. She kept her tone light, inviting Tom to continue the conversation. The only display of emotion she received was a slight furrow of his brow, almost imperceptible.

"…something more permanent." His voice was low, not sure why he was engaging in conversation with her. It was around seven o'clock in the evening, and on a Saturday night the library was usually empty. Tom basked in these moments of solace, valuing his own time immensely. The followers were always a touch too loud, and the rest of the students always ended up infuriating him in one way or another. Or worse, Dumbledore would always happen upon him in a hallway and trap him in unwanted conversation. Tome was sure it was to ruin the rest of his day.

This particular table, at this particular time in the library, was his only sanctuary. He had the Chamber of Secrets of course, but it was much too risky to go there yet.

Tom was surprised when, in response to him, Evelyn nodded to herself as if the whole situation made perfect sense before she sat across from him. Just like that. Entirely uninvited, and most definitely unwelcome, and yet…Tom allowed it.

The rest of the evening passed in silence. Tom read resolutely, his eyes not once straying from the page. Evelyn much the same, although shouldn't help her eyes darting over to him every once in a while. The silence wasn't awkward though. It was actually rather companionable, and for once Evelyn found herself enjoying her time in the library more than she ever had before.

Tom did not look up once from his reading.

He felt unsettled by how easily Evelyn had joined him at his table. If it was anyone else - even one of his followers - they wouldn't have dared. And yet this girl…she sat as if this was a common occurrence between them.

He only deigned to look up when he heard the soft thud of a book closing.

"I'd better get going now." Her voice was incredibly soft, and Tom suddenly felt uncomfortable all over again. The scene was almost domestic; soft candlelight, companionable silence, bearable company…and now with her looking at him like that with soft eyes and small smiles, Tom felt overwhelmed.

He wanted her gone from his presence immediately.

"Although…." She paused mid-turn and looked at him, her face reflecting her curiosity and a hint of mischief. "How often do you sneak into the restricted section?" The small smile gracing her lips let Tom know she was teasing more than anything, an unexpected turn of events.

Eyes narrowing just slightly, Evelyn clocked the flicker of amusement behind them. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a deliberate casualness that belied his discomfort.

"Only when I need to." His voice was low, and Evelyn found herself mesmerised by the way the flames danced off of his face. "Which, considering the company I keep, is more often than I'd like to admit."

Evelyn let out a burst of laughter, not expecting Riddle to have a sense of humour. She covered her mouth, blushing.

"I see."

"And you? How often do you find yourself wandering where you're not supposed to?" The question, though equally teasing in tone, felt heavy. Evelyn studied Tom for a moment, appreciating how soft he looked in the orange light, a contrast to his usual sharpness.

Her eyes flickered away somewhere over his shoulder before settling back on him.

"More often than I let on." She smoothed her skirt out before giving Tom a genuine smile, all traces of teasing leaving her face. "I enjoyed tonight. I'll see you around?" She left it hanging in the air, more question than statement, before leaving the library before he could respond.

Once she had left, Tom didn't return to his book straight away. Bennett had a habit of having the last word with him, something that looked like it might be turning into a habit. His stomach twisted in an unfamiliar and rather unpleasant way as he reminisced on the way she had laughed.

It was genuine, and clearly as unexpected for her as it had been for him. Tom didn't make people laugh. He drew hollow laughs from his followers and polite giggles from his peers when appropriate, but for someone to find something he said genuinely humorous? It was unheard of.

Evelyn Bennett… He reclined and picked his book up again, although he found that it didn't capture his whole attention again.

Evelyn's heart was beating faster than she wanted to admit as she left the library. Her interaction with Riddle hadn't been anything special, and yet she found herself consumed with thoughts of him.

Why must he be so handsome? She felt flustered as she remembered how ethereal he looked in the candlelight.

"Hey!" Large, warm hands grabbed her shoulders, causing her to squeal in surprise. "Sorry, sorry!"

"Alaric!" Evelyn breathed, a smile lighting up her face. Tom was momentarily forgotten.

"I'd been calling your name for ages, you didn't hear me?" Alaric was slightly out of breath from jogging to catch up with her.

"I'm sorry," Evelyn said sweetly as they fell into step with each other, "I had been reading in the library."

"Oh, so that's where you snuck off to?" Alaric slung an arm casually around her shoulders. Suddenly, Evelyn was very much aware of how close they were to each other. "Imagine how heartbroken I was to discover that only two of my friends came to watch the first practice of the year!"

"You think of me as your friend?" They came to a halt, Alaric swinging her round gently to face him.

"Of course I do! But you're so elusive sometimes - at least I know to check the library now. Well, I should have known to check there already I guess, you've always got your nose in a book -" Alaric had started to ramble in that carefree way he usually does. Evelyn smiled.

"I promise I'll come to your next practice to make up for it."

Alaric started walking again, Evelyn secured firmly under his arm. "I'd like that."

Evelyn felt elated that Sunday morning. She'd gone to bed thinking about Tom and Alaric, replaying both conversations in her mind. Firstly, she couldn't believe that Alaric, Adrian, and Harriet considered her a friend! She felt warm as she thought about them. She was closest to Alaric so far, but that was only because of their proximity of being in the same house. She was confident that with time, she'd also develop a strong friendship with the twins.

Secondly, she began to dare to hope that maybe Tom and her could become acquaintances. Despite how intimidating he could be, she genuinely enjoyed his company when he allowed her in his space, and he was proving to be an entertaining conversationalist.

Evelyn had dressed with a bounce in her step, eager to find her new friends and hang out with them for the day. She was embarrassingly pleased when she spotted Alaric lounging about downstairs, seemingly waiting for her.

"Hey!" She called out breathlessly.

"Hey Evie," He got up and gave her a gentle hug, "you don't mind if I call you that, do you?" Evelyn blushed - she'd never had a nickname before. She liked how it sounded in Alaric's warm voice.

"I've never had a nickname before, I like it." Alaric raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

"Your friends at home must be so boring." He joked. Evelyn chuckled, deciding to keep quiet about the fact that she'd never actually had any friends before.

"Shall we go and find Adrian and Harriet?" Evelyn asked.

"They always sleep late on a Sunday. I'm afraid you're stuck with me for a little while longer." Alaric winked at her, ruffling his golden hair.

"Well, I don't mind at all. Sometimes the best things happen early in the morning." Evelyn's response was so refreshingly sweet, and her smile so big that it caught Alaric off guard. He coughed, feeling shy. He opened his mouth to speak, but Evelyn suddenly looked past him, her smile becoming softer.

"Good morning, Tom."

"Good morning, Evelyn." She dipped her head in hello as the prefect walked past, not sparing her companion a glance. Alaric frowned, feeling confused.

"How do you know Riddle?" He had never liked the other Slytherin. They were polar opposites; ice versus the sun. Alaric was warm, open, and friendly. He was like a warm ray of sunlight, openly affectionate and generally liked by everyone. Riddle on the hand, was aloof. He thought he was better than everyone and ruled Slytherin with his gang of followers. Alaric could detect the simmering violence beneath the surface, as well hidden as it was.

Something about him and the other boys was wrong.

"Tom? Oh, we spent the evening reading together in the library yesterday. Totally by accident, but it was pleasant nonetheless."

"What? Evelyn…" He hadn't known Evelyn long, but it was long enough to know that she was kind and a good person. She wasn't your typical Slytherin, and he felt himself wanting to look out for her.

Evelyn waited patiently for him to speak. He shook his head, choosing to loop their arms together instead. "Let's find the others, then we'll talk."

When Tom Riddle came down the dormitory stairs into the common room, the last person he expected to see was Evelyn Bennett. He heard her before he saw her, a soft gentle chuckle that could only belong to her.

His steps nearly faltered when he saw that she was with someone; he was tall, broad, with sun-kissed skin and golden hair. It was long, and held the tell-tale signs of being continuously windswept.

Quidditch player. He immediately thought with distaste. He'd never paid much attention to Alaric Blackwood before - he was just another average Slytherin, a minor presence on the periphery of Tom's life. He recalled that Alaric was almost Gryffindorish in his mannerisms, what with being loud and brash.

Tom's sharp eyes read the scene in an instant; Alaric and Evelyn clearly had a friendly relationship. They both relaxed, and Alaric was openly close with Evelyn, leaning into her space. Evelyn - the stupid girl - remained oblivious, tittering away to whatever inane babble Blackwood was making up.

Her eyes snapped up to meet him as soon as she noticed him. It helped unravel the dark coil of something that had appeared in his chest.

"Good morning, Tom." Her voice was infuriatingly soft.

"Good morning, Evelyn." He replied, ignoring the other boy completely. He wasn't worthy of his time. Tom did find, however, that his entire morning had been ruined. He was moodier than usual during breakfast, and his followers wisely gave him a wide berth.

"Tom Riddle is bad news!"

"Sh!" Harriet elbowed Adrian in the ribs, causing him to wince. The four of them were sitting under a large tree; Harriet was laying on her stomach, face propped up in her hands. Adrian had his legs outstretched, back straight against the trunk, idly fiddling with some playing cards. Evelyn was laying on her back next to Harriet, enjoying the easy conversation and admiring the clouds. Alaric had planted himself firmly next to Evelyn, although he remained sitting up.

"I don't understand, why is he so bad?" Evelyn sat up as well. Alaric pulled her in so she was leaning against him. She paused, her eyes flicking over to him in warmth and uncertainty before she continued. "I'm not stupid - I can see everyone either fears or respects him -"

"It's fear." Adrian muttered, interrupting.

"- but I haven't seen anything to suggest he's…I don't know." Evelyn struggled to find the right words. "Violent or untoward."

"Riddle…he appears perfect, but I've heard rumours." Harriet whispered, her eyes large.

"I heard he's used Crucio on his little hang of pals." Adrian went uncharacteristically serious as he sent Evelyn a firm look. "He's evil, pure and simple. Merlin knows what he'll get up to once he graduates."

"I can't believe that he'd use an Unforgivable, especially on one of his friends?" Evelyn could not reconcile the picture her friends were painting with the Tom Riddle she had met. She was smart though; she knew something was up with Riddle. Everyone feared him, no one dared cross him. He commanded a room as soon as he entered it.

You could see he didn't really treat Dolohov, Lestrange, and the others as equals. Suddenly, she started to doubt, which showed on her face.

"Listen, just be careful. You don't want Tom Riddle's attention on you." Harriet covered her hand with her own, her skin soft and comforting. Evelyn squeezed her hand, touched by her friend's concern.

"Thank you everyone. I'll take your advice to heart. I'm lucky to have all of you."

Alaric's face flared red and he shoved her away playfully. "What's up with you and your sweet declarations!" He joked.

Adrian smirked. "What's wrong Blackwood, don't tell you fa-" Alaric pounced on Adrian, and they rolled around in jest, shouting happily at each other.

"How did you all become friends?" Evelyn asked conversationally, letting the boys have their fun.

"We've all been friends since childhood," Harriet explained, "we didn't let being sorted into different houses stop our friendship. Our parents are school friends."

Evelyn hadn't realised they all practically knew each other since birth. She smiled, but suddenly felt out of place again. They had years of history shared between them. At best, they'd continue to be friendly acquaintances after Hogwarts, at worst they'd never speak again.

Evelyn knew she was being irrational; they hadn't done anything to suggest she wasn't their friend. She knew she had some sort of complex when it came to friendships - again, she supposed because she'd never had any before, but she couldn't shake the moments of doubted authenticity that creeped up on her.

Time to focus on the present, Evelyn. Enjoy whatever friendship you are given, and don't overthink. And with that thought, she tuned back into the present, spending a wonderful Sunday with her newfound friends.

September morphed into October, and with it came chillier mornings and darker evenings. Tom once again found himself in the unlikely presence of Evelyn Bennett, at what was slowly becoming 'their' table (although he'd never say that out loud). She'd taken to joining him two or three times a week in the evening, minimal words shared between them. Tom would incline his head when she appeared, and in turn Evelyn would send him a small smile with warmth in her eyes. She'd pull out her homework as would he, or he'd continue reading his book, and they'd work in easy silence.

They didn't speak much, although they always exchanged words before Evelyn left. She'd wrap up her work before him, leaving him to stew in a mixture of confusion, irritation, and reluctant acceptance that this was something they did regularly.

One evening, he made an offhand comment about Slughorn which elicited a rich laugh from her. The sound hit him in the ribs like hex, the feeling disconcerting and leaving him distressed. He didn't speak again for the rest of the night after that. Evelyn was good though, she could sense something had bothered him and so kept to herself, departing with a warm good-bye when she had finished her homework.

Tom Riddle didn't do feelings.

Not that he was even sure what he was feeling. It wasn't anything romantic - Tom scoffed at the thought - but it was detached curiosity either. Did he…genuinely enjoy her company? Had he ever genuinely liked being around someone? The closest person he could think of was Lestrange, and even then he could take it or leave it.

Tom didn't pretend to understand how others felt; where they felt joy, he felt detached boredom. He couldn't really understand 'caring' about someone. He understood these emotions enough to the point where he could manipulate others, but whatever this was, was unacceptable.

However, he started to find that he looked forward to their library study sessions. The table did indeed become 'theirs'.

The conversation between them was still muted in these moments, but they grew longer. Evelyn grew bolder, commanding his attention when she asked a question about the homework, even asking about himself sometimes. All surface level stuff, nothing deep or meaningful, which Tom appreciated.

Was she a friend?

Tom grimaced at the thought. Feelings, people, friendship - all words that meant the same thing in Tom's mind: weak. And he was not weak.

Lord Voldemort was not weak.

Alaric Blackwood meanwhile, discovered that he had a small crush on Evelyn Bennett. It was nothing serious, only small and blooming in his chest, but it was there. Adrian, his best friend, teased him relentlessly about it good-naturedly. Harriet was more polite, never mentioning it. But she knew just as well.

Alaric by no means got jealous if Evelyn briefly conversed with another boy. He supposed he only felt this way because she was so beautiful and quietly intelligent. Surely anyone could fall for a girl like that, especially if they spent every day together.

He played it off though with humour, and he took great pleasure in making Evelyn laugh. Something he found he was decidedly good at. He couldn't help himself though, he was already quite openly affectionate with people he was close with, but when it came to Evelyn? Perhaps he found his arm was around her a little too often. But she never complained, so he never stopped.

The only thing that bothered was Riddle. He was like an offensive shadow - they never interacted with each other, but he had somehow wormed his way into Evelyn's life, and he didn't like it. These strange study sessions they engaged in a few times a week made no sense to him. It wasn't even formal, he'd asked Evelyn himself.

"Oh, it just sort of happened. It's unspoken now that we'll both be there."

In all their years of schooling, Riddle had never shown interest in anyone, especially not in girls. He smirked as he remembered the rumours from first year, although Riddle had very quickly put a stop to those through some nasty hexes.

Alaric glanced up at the clock from his position on the common room sofa. It was nearly seven, and that meant Evelyn would be going to the library to study with Tom.

"Evie…" He sang, restraining her against his chest playfully on the sofa.

She laughed, free and low, "Alaric! You scoundrel, you must let me go." She giggled as he slackened his arms, only to tighten them moments later, pinning her back.

Alaric sighed, "Must you really go and study with Riddle? Wouldn't you rather stay here with me?" He gazed a little too long into her eyes, and for a wild second he thought about kissing her.

Before Evelyn could answer, a cool voice cut through the warmth of the moment.

"Actually, Miss Bennett has a prior engagement." Tom Riddle stood just behind them, his voice commanding their attention. He looked calm and collected, and regarded Alaric with a measured gaze, his lips twisted in a mocking smile.

"Riddle." Alaric greeted as Evelyn stood up, "Just in time to spoil all the fun, as usual." He couldn't help the bite that seeped into his voice. Evelyn furrowed her brows and sent him a questioning look, not missing the ice in his tone. It wasn't something she'd come to associate with Alaric at all.

"Apologies." Tom wasn't sorry at all, "Although I wouldn't call it spoiling…simply reminding Evelyn of her more productive pursuits."

Evelyn cocked her head to the side, amused at the two boys. She wasn't sure why they were butting heads (as subtle as it was), but she found it all strangely charming.

Alaric raised his hands in mock surrender, "Alright then, I yield." He said dramatically, sending Evelyn a wink. "Go and study then. I'll see you later Evie?"

Tom's face remained impassive, but there was a growing violence tightening inside his chest. If Alaric wasn't careful, he was going to find himself on the end of a Crucio.

Tom gestured for Evelyn to walk ahead of him. "Shall we?" Polite, ever the gentleman.

"I'll see you later, Alaric." She placed her hand on his shoulder and gently squeezed, Blackwood reached up and squeezed back, eyes darting to Riddle for a split second to check if he had seen.

He had.

Tom followed Evelyn out of the common room, something ugly and possessive overcoming him. He couldn't identify why, but his mind was screaming 'mine' over and over again when it came to Evelyn. She was none the wiser to the ugly, violent thoughts that Tom was thinking.

Once they reached the library and had sat down, Tom found himself unable to concentrate.

"I had no idea you and Blackwood were so close." It was an offhand comment, masked in feigned curiosity and nothing more. Evelyn paused in her reading and rested the book on the table.

She cocked her head to the side, noticing how Tom did not look up from his book. His eyes skimmed the same page twice. Her lips twitched.

"Alaric and his friends…they sort of adopted me into their group. I'm eternally grateful, I'm not sure I would have made friends if it weren't for them." Evelyn replied softly.

Tom finally looked at her, his face closed off.

"You're here, aren't you?"

"Are we friends?" Evelyn countered back just as quickly, her voice even.

Tom's eyes were sharp and unreadable, his gaze did not waver, and Evelyn could feel her face heating up. Still, she didn't back down.

"Friends," He repeated slowly as if he was tasting the word, "It's a complicated notion, isn't it?"

"Not really." Evelyn replied back easily. "We enjoy each other's company - I assume -" She stumbled over this bit, but regained her composure. "- we spend enough time with each other to warrant that label."

Tom let out a huff of air, his version of a dry laugh. "I'd hardly call study sessions the beginning of friendship."

"Why not?" Evelyn's gaze was intense, her voice quiet. "All friendships start somewhere."

Tom considered her for a long time, painfully aware that his response in this moment could change everything. Either way it would; he could imagine the hurt his rejection could cause, he knew she had some sort of issue with feeling inferior in friendships. If he said yes, he had no idea what would happen next, and Tom didn't work with variables. Everything was planned out, every move calculated, every manipulation planned in advance…but he could never account for Evelyn.

He didn't want her running back to that buffoon Alaric either.

He took in her lightly flushed cheeks, the way a wisp of dark hair hung in front of her face. How large and warm her eyes were. He nodded minutely.

"Then we start here." He looked back down at his book, saving Evelyn further embarrassment as her face went hot red. Tom liked it when Evelyn blushed.

Evelyn had butterflies knocking against her stomach. Another friend! And it was Tom Riddle of all people. Little could she know how much her life was going to change from this point onwards.

Chapter Text

Evelyn was nothing if not observant.

Tom had withdrawn from her, most likely finding his footing after their tentative declaration of friendship in the library. Evelyn hadn’t minded, she still had Alaric and the twins. She’d come to understand rather quickly that despite Tom Riddle’s many talents, social connection was not one of them.

So Evelyn gave him his space, waiting for him to seek her out - if he chose to.

“Not going to the library tonight?” Alaric had asked. He’d been out with his other Slytherin friends, three boys from the Quidditch team. Evelyn glanced up from her armchair in the common room, her eyes sweeping over his tousled hair.

“Not tonight.” She replied firmly. Alaric grinned and bade his friends goodbye. One of them wolf-whistled as they carried on walking, and the young beater had the grace to look embarrassed.

He glanced up at the clock. It wasn’t too late, they still had time before curfew.

“Will you give me ten minutes to freshen up? We could go on a walk.”

“Of course, I’d like that.” She closed her book and went up to her dorm and grabbed her scarf. She paused to give Seraphina a brief hello before she was back down the stairs again. Her stomach tightened when she saw Tom and his friends had arrived. He was sitting in his usual spot, front and centre in the middle of the sofa. His friends crowded around him, all their heads bent low together as they murmured.

As if sensing her presence, Nott looked up at her. He gave a short wave, breaking the rest of the boys out of their meeting. Evelyn fiddled with her scarf, nervous to see Tom’s reaction. She half waved back at all of them, a shy smile on her face.

Before she had a chance to really catch Tom’s response, she was tapped on the shoulder.

“Hey, are you ready?” Evelyn nodded, deciding to leave Tom alone. He clearly still needed space, and she would respect that. Alaric gently plucked her scarf out of her hands and wrapped it around her neck. He either hadn’t noticed Tom and his friends staring, or he simply didn’t care.

With a firm but gentle grip, he steered Evelyn out of the common room.

“You seem a little tense, Evie.” Alaric was rarely so serious, but he had no hints of laughter in his voice, only mild concern. “You had a falling out with Riddle?”

“No, at least…I don’t think so. I think he’s just busy.” Evelyn looped her arm through Alaric’s. “I don’t need to see him every night.” She teased, earning a refreshing chuckle from her friend.

“Just making sure you’re OK.” Alaric pulled his arm free to wrap around her instead, his preferred method of contact. Evelyn settled in comfortably, his body heat warding away the worst of the chill as they stepped outside.

They chatted easily, Evelyn mainly listened as Alaric flitted from topic to topic. First he touched upon his latest Quidditch exploits - “You still haven’t watched me practice!” - before switching to how boring he was finding the charms homework.

“You still haven’t done it?” Evelyn exclaimed. “Alaric!” She scolded. He smiled sheepishly.

“If only I had an incredibly intelligent witch as a friend who could help me…” she laughed and elbowed him lightly. “Did I also mention she is super talented and exceedingly beautiful?”

Evelyn blushed and allowed him to steer her towards the lake.

“I’ll help you.” she said softly, accepting a smooth stone he handed to her. He skimmed his across the lake effortlessly, and they both admired the silent ripples it left behind. She skimmed her stone next. It didn’t go as far and stuttered to an abrupt stop as it sank.

“Your technique is all wrong.” Alaric tutted and stepped behind her, gently grabbing her wrist. Evelyn was once again all too aware of how close they were to each other. She didn’t speak, instead allowing Alaric to explain the best stone-skimming techniques.

He’s so close. Does he even realise? Evelyn’s face was hot. Alaric was generally quite an affectionate person - he never shied away from physical contact, not even with Harriet. But with Evelyn, it was different; he lingered, he found any excuse to touch her and he owned the interaction. He was soft, not boisterous or teasing like he was with anyone else.

She turned around, expecting him to step away.

He didn’t.

Looking up at him through her lashes, Evelyn simply studied him. He was good looking - not in the sharp, devastatingly handsome way Tom was, but he still had a rogue, boyish charm. His hair was soft, always unkempt and windswept. He wore it longer than most others did, and his eyes were a wonderful shade of green. Upon closer inspection, Evelyn could just about make out a light smattering of freckles across his nose.

She imagined they came out strong in the sun.

“Like what you see?” Alaric teased. He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, the whole moment seemed intimate. Evelyn huffed good-naturedly and cast a quick Tempus.

“It’s getting late, we best head back before curfew. Thank you for the lovely walk.” She really was thankful. It had been a nice end to the day, and drowned out the slight pang of rejection she felt from Tom’s absence.

“Any time, sweetheart.”

Tom had only meant to dip into the library quickly to find a book. It wasn’t in the restricted section, but it would be close enough, bordering on inappropriate for a student to be caught reading. He slowed down once he heard the soft laughter of the very person he had been avoiding.

Evelyn.

He saw them from a distance; she was sat in her usual chair at their table, her back to him. That infernal Blackwood was there, in his seat, tossing a snitch up into the air and catching it. His eyes were solely on Evelyn, so he didn’t notice Tom slinking back into the shadows. The book would have to wait until another day then.

That sharp, twisting feeling rose up in his chest at the sight. This was exactly why he’d needed to step back.

This ‘friendship’ that he’d (in hindsight) so carelessly agreed to was…distracting. Evelyn Bennett had a way of getting under his skin without even trying. The whole situation was absurd. She was free to sit with whomever she pleased, what did he care?

And yet here he was, his thoughts once again consumed by the dark-haired witch. Lestrange had been waiting for him at the library entrance, although he wisely kept his mouth shut at the stony look on Tom’s face.

He briefly remembered the way that clumsy oaf had wrapped a scarf around her neck in the common room. What right did he have?

“My Lord,” Tom’s eyes snapped to his side, Lestrange was feeling bold this afternoon. “Is it the Bennett girl?”

“Don’t speak to me.” Tom commanded. He didn’t want to hear anyone speaking her name. The unsettling awareness of wanting something he couldn’t quite name didn’t leave his chest for the rest of the day.

The following evening, after lessons had finished, Tom had appeared at their table once again; there was no greeting, no explanation for his random absence over the last couple days. Instead, he claimed his seat as usual and placed his stack of books deliberately on the table.

Evelyn looked up and smiled greeting, the corners of her eyes crinkling. She had hoped Tom would come this evening - it was when they would usually meet up. The sense of relief she felt was almost worrying.

“Hi Tom.” Was all she said, yet the warmth in her voice was palpable.

“Evelyn.” Tom nodded back, his eye contact so intense that she had to look away. They sat in their usual easy silence, the sounds of turning pages and the occasional scribble as their backdrop.

After an hour had ticked by, Evelyn started to tidy away her rolls of parchment.

“I said I’d meet Harriet tonight, I’m helping her with a Mandrake project.” It was said apologetically enough, so Tom didn’t mind that their time was cut short. “I’ll see you in the morning in Potions?”

“Yes, you will. I look forward to it.” There was no inflection or intonation to his voice, but Evelyn could feel that it was sincere. She couldn’t help but beam at him, and in Tom’s eyes it lit up the whole room.

He watched as the current bane of his existence started to walk away. He couldn’t help himself.

“Evelyn.” It was said quietly, calmly, he was in total control. Evelyn paused and turned her full attention to him. “Don’t bring him here again.” He didn’t feel the need to elaborate any further.

A moment passed between them, and he knew Evelyn understood exactly what he meant. He was surprised when a flicker of something danced her across her face - amusement? Not quite - before her features softened. She nodded once in agreement, it remained unspoken between them.

This is our space only.

After that, it felt like a weight had been lifted. Evelyn spent some of her time with Alaric, Adrian, and Harriet, enjoying the easy conversations and shared jokes that she felt a growing inclusion in. She would cheer when either Harriet or Adrian won one of their intense chess matches, and she’d laugh as they all chatted about their classes

She grew a little closer to Alaric too. They went on a few more walks around the lake, where he tried to convince her to fly on his broom with him. Evelyn had giggled and said ‘maybe’, and he had vowed to keep asking until she said yes.

And then there was Tom…their paths seemed to cross more often outside of their study sessions now. Was it merely coincidence? Evelyn surmised that much of it wasn’t. Sometimes Riddle was waiting for her after class; she’d peel away from Alaric and the others to walk with him on the occasions he had waited. They hadn’t spoken too much, just light conversation about what they had learned, but it was enough.

During Transfiguration, he had actually sat next to her, much to the surprise of their fellow classmates and Evelyn herself. Alaric had looked thoroughly put out, but pulled up a chair on the other side of Evelyn anyway. Tom had captured most of her attention that lesson.

Tom appreciated Evelyn’s ability to accept what he gave her. She never pushed for more information when he gave her half-truths instead of proper answers. She let silence fill the space when he didn’t want to talk, which was quite often, instead of babbling away like others might have.

What felt like the turning point came early in November. Evelyn had been waiting for Tom outside the Herbology greenhouses whilst their professor spoke to him. She had waved Alaric on, insisting she would wait for Tom. Once he was released, he stopped short, as if he wasn’t expecting anyone to be there.

Instead of nodding his head in greeting, or the curt ‘Evelyn’ he sometimes gave if he was feeling generous, he instead examined her for a moment. “You shouldn’t wait for me in the cold.” It was the closest thing to genuine concern she’d heard from him so far. Her heart warmed from the inside.

“I wanted to.” It was a simple enough answer, but one Tom wasn’t expecting. Neither one of them spoke as they walked to their next lesson, but Evelyn shot him a shy smile when she felt the warming charm he silently cast on her chase the last of the chill away.

Evelyn maintained this balancing act between her two sets of friends, although sometimes it was harder than it looked. That particular morning, Evelyn had woken up early and decided to head down to the Great Hall. She hadn’t had much alone time recently, so she savoured this opportunity.

She only had fifteen minutes to herself before Tom Riddle’s smooth voice called out to her.

“Good morning, Evelyn.” He strode confidently towards her, Lestrange, Nott, Avery, Rosier, Mulciber bringing up the rear.

“Tom.” She perked up, eyes sparkling as he slid in next to her. She felt a little overwhelmed when Nott took the seat next to her, with Lestrange opposite. The other boys surrounded them at the table, and Evelyn actually felt a little intimidated.

She looked to Tom for reassurance. He dipped his head in response, although his face remained impassive.

“Evelyn, these are my friends. You’ve met some of them in passing, but you’ve not been formally introduced.” Her eyes slid over to Nott who was sitting next to her. He smiled, all high cheekbones with that same light blush dusting his cheeks.

“You remember me from the train?” He questioned.

“Of course. Alphard, right?” He nodded, pleased she had remembered.

Rosier smirked faintly and interrupted, “So this is the girl who’s been monopolising Riddle’s time.” Before Tom could say anything, Evelyn spoke up.

“I wouldn’t say monopolising…more keeping him on his toes. He’s free to decline.” She was quick in her comeback, teasing enough with a sharp edge underneath. She was surprised at how bold she felt, perhaps buoyed by Tom’s presence.

Lucien Rosier leaned forwards, his eye glinting in challenge. He did enjoy it when someone didn’t back down.

“Keeping him on his toes, huh? You make it sound like he needs the help.” Mulciber snickered, intrigued to see if Evelyn would be able to keep up.

Tom remained silent, watching the interaction.

Evelyn tilted her head, feigning innocence. “I wouldn’t say he needs any help,” Evelyn glanced up at Riddle before her eyes flicked back to Rosier, “but everyone benefits from a challenge now and then.”

“Is that so?” Rosier matched her energy, dark eyes narrowing almost playfully. Evelyn could see the hint of something behind them, something that shouted he could be dangerous if he wanted to be. “And what exactly do you challenge him on?”

“Everything, sometimes nothing. It’s more interesting that way.” Evelyn held his gaze for a beat longer before she leaned back, filling her glass with pumpkin juice.

“She manages well enough.” Tom said this lightly, his eyes never once leaving her face. But you could tell from the way his tone left no room for disagreement that their verbal spar was over.

Rosier chuckled and shared a glance with his fellow Slytherins before returning to his untouched plate of breakfast. Casual chatter resumed amongst them, with Nott asking for her thoughts on some of their classes.

The tension in her shoulders eased, and she felt like she had passed a test. Whatever unspoken initiation had just happened, the boys clearly approved of her, as much as they could in the circumstances.

More students began to trickle in, and Evelyn could feel Alaric’s stare hot on the side of her head as he entered. She kept her eyes focused resolutely on the table, especially when the murmurs started.

No one was allowed to sit with Tom Riddle and his friends, and yet there Evelyn Bennett sat, who was for all intents and purposes a nobody, securely found in the middle next to him.

“It’s time for class.” Lestrange was quiet and very intense, he hadn’t said much that morning, choosing to instead listen as Avery chatted away. His eyes would glance over at Evelyn every once in a while, a furrow in his brow - as if he couldn’t quite understand why she was there.

Evelyn had met his eyes once, amusement dancing across her face as if to say; Don’t ask me, I know less than you do.

“Evelyn.” Tom stood up fluidly, his hand extended. She hesitated, two pink dots appearing on her cheeks as she reached out for his hand. Everyone was watching. They barely touched - it was more a ghosting of their fingertips as she stood, and Tom had retracted his hand instantly - but she couldn’t help being acutely aware of the interaction. Tom led the way, the other boys almost hemming her in. She thought she faintly heard Alaric calling after her, but Tom gave her no time to turn her head back to check.

His pace was measured yet insistent, as if he had already decided where she was meant to be.

I’ll talk to him in class. She thought to herself.

If Evelyn could, she would shrink down in her seat and disappear. Tom had claimed the chair to her left whilst Nott had made a feeble attempt at the one to her right, but Alaric had barged shoulders with him roughly before dropping his bag down on the desk.

Tom didn’t bother looking up from unpacking his bag, but he felt a trickle of irritation when Evelyn greeted the other boy warmly. Her voice softened as they continued to talk, tinged with familiarity on a level she never used with him, and it coiled under his skin.

Every word Evelyn spoke to Blackwood was catalogued, weighed, and stored away in his mind. By the time class began, Tom’s expression was a mask of perfect composure. No one could tell that as the minutes ticked by, he was becoming more and more irate.

“Are you OK, Tom?” Evelyn’s soft voice cut through the angry haze in his mind. He glanced over, noticing the mild concern on her face.

“Of course.” It didn’t look like she believed him, but as always, she sent him one last searching look before focusing on the professor. Nott caught Tom’s eye, and the latter sent him a displeased look. He had one job, stop that fool Blackwood from sitting with them, and he had failed. Tom would make his displeasure known to the younger boy.

Alaric had whisked Evelyn away after that, bypassing Adrian and Harriet with a hurried ‘be right back!’ as he dragged her across the courtyard.

“Evie! What was that all about?” Alaric exclaimed, a mixture of surprise and hurt tinging his voice.

“What do you mean?” Evelyn feigned innocence.

He raised his eyebrows incredulously. “Um, no idea…perhaps we can start with why Riddle and his cronies were surrounding you at breakfast?” Evelyn sighed. She couldn’t be cross with Alaric for his reaction, she always sat with him at breakfast, and she hadn’t so much as spared him a glance when they had walked past him to class.

He was clearly hurt.

“I’m sorry,” Her hand reached out and gently touched his arm, “I was already sitting when they joined me. They’re almost like an unstoppable force when they’re altogether - I didn’t have much chance to speak to you in the Great Hall. It’s not an excuse though, I’m sorry.”

Alaric’s hurt deflated instantly under her sincere words.

“I didn’t doubt for a second that you were ignoring me.” He murmured, a rueful smile lighting up his face. “I just…I don’t know.” He let out a huff of frustrated air.

“I understand.” Evelyn replied sweetly. “Tom and his friends…they’re just a bit intense sometimes.”

Alaric laughed, light and carefree once again. “That’s a bit of an understatement. Just don’t forget about me, OK?” He pulled Evelyn in for a hug, his chin resting atop of her head.

“I could never!” She peeked out over his arms to see Adrian and Harriet watching them, both grinning. She stuck her tongue out and they laughed.

Tom, Lestrange, and Dolohov had just stepped into the courtyard when he saw them - Evelyn and Alaric, standing far too close for his liking.

“Isn’t that your girlfriend with Blackwood?” Dolohov drawled, before adding in mock innocence, “Oh - perhaps she isn’t your girlfriend after all.” His grin turned wicked as the pair embraced, the hug lingering longer than what most would consider appropriate.

Tom’s sharp spike of anger sent a spark of raw magic at Dolohov, stinging him painfully. He yelped, and Lestrange elbowed him sharply, telling him to be quiet.

“You two go on ahead, I’ll catch up.” He commanded, “Dolohov, I’ll deal with you later.” Tom said it so menacingly that Dolohov’s throat bobbed up and down in distress. That could only mean he’d be on the receiving end of a crucio tonight.

Before he could understand what was happening, Tom’s feet had carried him towards the duo, his mind already arranging the most efficient way to dismantle whatever this was that he was witnessing.

“Evelyn.” He greeted, coming to a stop before them. His tone was perfectly polite and controlled as ever.

“Tom. I didn’t see you there. How are you?” Evelyn’s voice was warm, her attention focused on him.

“I imagine not.” His eyes shifted briefly over to Alaric, assessing him the way one would a threat. He just hadn’t decided how he was going to get rid of him. “I don’t believe we’ve met properly.”

Blackwood straightened a fraction. “Alaric Blackwood.” He extended a hand, the gesture civil enough, however they both shook hands firm enough to carry some unspoken words.

“Tom Riddle.” When it became clear that Tom wasn’t going to say anything else, Alaric shifted uncomfortably.

“I was just about to offer up my duelling services to Evelyn. Teach her a thing or two.” Alaric slung an arm around her shoulder, a cheeky yet sharp smile on his face. He never broke eye contact with Tom. There was an unspoken battle happening, and Evelyn remained none the wiser.

“You were?” Evelyn crossed her arms and tilted her head up to look at him, unimpressed. “I think you’ll find that I end up teaching you a thing or two.”

“I wouldn’t mind that.” Alaric’s voice was low, the tone not lost on Tom nor Evelyn who turned beet red.

Tom observed, face neutral. “I see.” The air felt colder by a few degrees. “An admirable use of your time.”

Just then, they were saved from further conversation by the arrival of Harriet and Adrian, both looking wary.

“Everything alright here?” Adrian asked, standing tall next to Alaric. Harriet hovered on the edge, nervous but firm.

“Tom!” Nott was calling for him, flanked by Avery, Rosier, and Mulciber. Their pace quickened as they picked up on the tense atmosphere.

“I best take my leave. Evelyn, I’ll see you tonight? Pleasure to meet you, Blackwood.” It didn’t sound like he meant it. He smiled, all teeth and sharp before he left.

Harriet let out a stuttering breath, clutching her chest dramatically.

“What was that about?” She demanded, uncharacteristically frazzled. She hated confrontation of any kind.

“Just Riddle being an arsehole.” Alaric muttered, his face stormy.

“Alaric!” Evelyn scolded. “He’s just…” Her voice trailed off, unsure what to make of the interaction. Adrian shook his head as they walked pensively down towards the lake.

Evelyn nuzzled her face into her scarf as a cold wind blew past. Harriet gripped her wrist gently, pulling her back from the boys.

“Evie…what’s going on between you and Riddle?” Harriet’s voice wasn’t accusing, there was no judgement, just gentle concern and a bit of curiosity.

Evelyn’s first instinct was to firmly reply that there was nothing going on. To exclaim it loudly so that Alaric and Adrian could hear as well. But she paused, and really evaluated her response.

Eventually, she sighed and looked at her friend. “I think we’re friends.” Was all she could settle on.

“You think?” Honeycomb eyes crinkled kindly in disbelief. “Because it seems like a bit more than that.”

Evelyn snorted. “I can categorically tell you that Tom doesn’t fancy me, if that’s what you’re implying.” The idea seemed absurd, and Evelyn couldn’t help the soft giggle that escaped her lips. Harriet huffed out a laugh too.

“There are worse things than being fancied.” Harriet replied, her tone thoughtful. “Riddle clearly had feelings regarding you…though what kind exactly, I couldn’t say. Be careful.” Harriet squeezed her hand in gentle warning whilst Evelyn considered her words.

That night in the library, Evelyn arrived earlier than she usually did. She felt apprehensive, because knowing Tom he would definitely bring up the scene in the courtyard.

“You’re earlier than usual.” He commented, eyes drifting up to her face as she appeared.

“Well,” Evelyn flustered for a second before sitting down, “maybe I just missed you.” She teased.

Tom regarded her curiously, his eyes roaming over her face.

“Interesting choice of company.” The silence was heavy.

“Alaric? He’s harmless.”

“Harmless.” Tom repeated, mouth curling. Evelyn sent him a questioning look. She knew there was some knot of tension between Tom and Alaric - although where it came from she couldn’t quite pinpoint. “Yes, I suppose he is. For now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Evelyn shot back, quick as a whip. She was starting to feel frustrated. Tom wasn’t making any sense; he was too difficult to read even on a good day, so Merlin help her when he was in one of his strange moods.

His eyes locked onto hers, steady and unblinking. “It means exactly what I said.” His voice was calm, controlled, his book long forgotten. His eyes were so dark and his focus so intense that Evelyn felt her pulse quicken.

Evelyn decided to ignore Tom. His eyes narrowed as she returned to her work.

Bold. He thought, irritation flaring to life. It settled in his chest like a low-burning ember - not all consuming, but distracting enough that he couldn’t continue reading. He didn’t appreciate being dismissed so openly by her, carelessly as if he were worthless.

A flicker of a darker memory rose to the surface unbidden: Tom, small and powerless, engulfed in the empty halls of Wool’s Orphanage. Unseen, unheard, invisible. He had learned from an early age how sharp that sting could be.

How dare she. Who does she think she is? She thinks she’s above me? Not worthy of her attention? His thoughts took a spiralling, dark turn. He turned a page, although his eyes didn’t read.

Many would kill to be in her shoes - she had his time, his notice, his presence, his attention. Yes, he’d make her pay for her indiscretions -

“Tom.” Her voice cut through his ever worsening thoughts, sweet and warm. “I lost you there for a second. Where did you go?”

Tom blinked, taken aback but remaining silent. She twirled a piece of her hair round her finger, considering him. Evelyn recognised that shadow that had passed over Tom’s face alongside the tightening of his jaw. He didn’t like being ignored.

“Where did I go?” He echoed, a faint edge of mockery in his voice. “I was merely giving this book the attention it deserves. If you’ve finished with your observations, you’d do well to return to your own studies.” It was a curt reply, and Evelyn internally winced at its sharpness.

“Tom…” She reached out across the table and gently rested her hand on top of his. He froze, almost holding his breath. “I didn’t mean to ignore you earlier…I just didn’t know what to say. It appears that you and Alaric don’t exactly get along…I’m just trying to navigate that.” She hesitated before squeezing his hand in what she hoped was a reassuring gesture.

Instead, Tom snatched his hand back as if she had burned him. He flexed his fingers for a moment, before a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes curved his lips.

“There’s no need to apologise, Evelyn.” Tom was back in control, his voice steady. “I harbour no ill-will towards Blackwood. I hardly know him. Now,” He pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment, “let’s compare notes.”

As soon as Tom reached the Room of Requirement, he loosened his tie and ran a hand through his hair.

Why on earth did Evelyn think it was acceptable to touch me?

The question repeated itself relentlessly in his mind, unwelcome and perplexing. He wasn’t used to being touched, and certainly not like that. He’d never received any affection from the Orphanage, and he certainly didn’t expect nor want it from anyone within Hogwarts. The brief contact had sent goosebumps careening up his arm, and he didn’t like it.

Why did it make my skin feel alive?

That second thought made him feel even worse. He felt like stripping the skin from his hand until it had forgotten all traces of her touch. Her skin was exceedingly warm, and soft to the touch…Tom banished the thoughts from his mind forcefully, deeply unsettled.

A third, darker thought bloomed viciously. Blackwood was always hanging off of her, touching her constantly without a care in the world…it hadn’t fully registered before, but now - after that fleeting contact - Tom realised with startling clarity how utterly unacceptable it was.

He did not like Alaric Blackwood one bit.

Chapter Text

Moments

The fire in the Slytherin common room burned low, its dying embers revealing how late the hour was. Only a handful of students remained - those too ambitious to sleep, or those brave enough linger near Tom Riddle and his gang.

Tom commandeered the high-backed chair near the fireplace, his followers arranged in a semi-circle around him. Fingers steepled beneath his chin, he surveyed the scene before him; Nott, Avery, Rosier, Mulciber, and Dolohov had their heads bowed low, avoiding his eyes. They’d long since learned that on nights like this, where Riddle seemed to be in a pensive mood, it was best that they tread lightly.

Dolohov was first to break the silence. “You’ve been reading again, My Lord?” His voice was appropriately low. Tom had subjected him to a bone-aching Crucio session after his comments about Evelyn and Alaric in the courtyard. It had suitably reminded him not not to tease the future Dark Lord.

Tom regarded him coolly, deciding whether he could be bothered to answer. He basked in the power he held over them - this was how it should be. They knew they were beneath him, they knew they were not worthy of his presence.

“I always read.” Tom replied lazily. He was in a good mood, so he indulged Dolohov’s curiosity.

Dolohov paused, glancing uneasily at Avery before he continued.

“The other kind of reading?” He ended it in a question, lowering his eyes quickly when Tom’s gaze sharpened.

A predatory smile appeared on his lips. “ Always .”

There was a sharp intake of breath from the boys, and Tom could almost taste their excitement and fear.

“Will you share with us what you learned, My Lord?” Nott asked in a quivering voice. He was probably the mildest of his followers, but Tom knew how to stir up that longing for something greater within him, within all of them.

He didn’t immediately speak, letting the silence stretch. His eyes flickered around the room for the barest second, checking that no one was around. There were two seventh years caught up in a snogging session in a corner, but apart from that the common room was empty. He cast a quick Muffliato just in case before leaning forward.

“There exists…a form of magic so advanced, so absolute, that it promises true mastery over death.” His voice was hushed, breathless with restrained passion. He let the boys mull it over, watching dim-witted Dolohov struggle with the concept. 

Eyes narrowing, Lestrange was the first to speak. “You mean immortality?”

“Yes. But not the fantasy kind whispered about in fairy tales. This is real .” A fevered gleam entered his eyes as he spoke. “It is possible to bind a fragment of your soul to the mortal plane. To anchor it.”

“You’re talking about a Horcrux.” Avery’s voice was even and cut through the quiet. But the word hung in the air heavy, like something foul had been loosed.

“You know the term. Good. Then you should also know that it requires more than simple wand-work and incantations.” Tom was impressed with Avery’s knowledge. It reminded him why he was included in his inner-circle - his family were dark.

Avery was still as a statue, his back prickling uncomfortably in light of what they were really talking about.

“Murder.” He whispered. Tom spoke before the silence could settle and doubt creep in.

“A necessary step.” He replied dismissively, as if he were talking about the next step in brewing a potion. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs - signalling the end of the conversation. He felt a faint shimmer of satisfaction as he surveyed the boys before him; they weren’t ready to attempt it - and there was still much for him to do in preparation - but they were thinking about it. And once a thought took root, it was only a matter of time before it grew. He just needed to be patient.

Evelyn was used to Tom’s intensity by now. She understood how his attention could narrow when he was chasing an idea, or when something particularly interesting made him appear blind and deaf to the world as he read. But whatever had caught Tom’s attention this time was…different.

Over the past few days, he always seemed to be elsewhere, consumed with something that she didn’t know how to articulate. She watched him at mealtimes, in class, even in the library as they studied together.

It felt wrong. The private gatherings between him and his friends, where they cleared everyone out of the common room had increased. They disappeared together for longer amounts of time too. A small part of Evelyn also missed him. He was near silent when in each other’s vicinity, as if he couldn’t really see her.

One sunny afternoon where Evelyn found herself alone with Harriet, she decided to share her thoughts.

She took a deep breath, which caused Harriet to glance over at her in curiosity. “I’m worried about him.” Evelyn finally confessed. She kept her eyes focused on her feet as they strolled, her cheeks pink.

“I’m assuming you haven’t said anything to him?” Harriet asked softly. They both knew who they were talking about.

“No…he’s been distant lately. More so than usual. I don’t even know where to start.”

Harriet didn’t respond immediately, instead choosing to link their arms together.

“Perhaps you’re overthinking this.” She suggested softly. “Listen Evie, he said you were friends, right?”

Evelyn hesitated, then nodded.

“Then talk to him! You don’t have to pour your heart out - Merlin knows you’d terrify him if you did -” they both giggled at this bit, “but you need to say something to him.”

“OK, you’re definitely right. Thank you for listening to me.” Evelyn squeezed her arm in thanks.

“Of course I’m right.” Harriet teased back. She didn’t always understand the strange pull-and-tug relationship between her friend and Riddle, but she knew deep down Evelyn was too invested in the Slytherin prefect to pull back now. She could only offer good advice.

“I mean, worst case scenario is he completely ignores me and I run away, right?” Evelyn laughed, although she sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than anything.

“Right. Although I suspect Tom Riddle is incapable of ignoring you.” Harriet sent her friend a pointed look and pulled her along, switching to easier topics.

Tom was already sat at their table, head bent over a sheet of parchment as he scribbled furiously. He hadn’t been eating properly for days, so occupied with his research into Horcrux’s, but he barely felt the stirrings of hunger, absorbed as he was.

Evelyn wove her way through the bookshelves, her courage slowly leaving her as she neared him. In her hands she held two wrapped sandwiches, secured from the kitchens with the help of Harriet.

This is stupid. You’re an idiot - he’s going to either laugh at you or insult you. Just turn around! Her mind was screaming this on repeat as she neared the table, but her stride didn’t falter. If she didn’t do something, she would go crazy.

Remember, you can always run away. She reassured herself.

“Tom.” Evelyn said his name loudly, disturbing the still air. She placed her hand firmly on the table in front of him for emphasis with a firm slap, making sure to catch his attention. Her hands were clammy from her nerves, and she fought the urge to wipe them on her skirt.

“Evelyn.” Tom looked up, confused and unimpressed. It was equal parts a greeting and a warning.

“Come on. I’ve decided you’re walking with me tonight.”

“Walking with you? Where?” Tom asked, bemusement colouring his voice.

“You’ll just have to read later and come with me to find out.” Evelyn teased lightly. He didn’t move for a few short moments (which felt like hours to her), before he eventually - and very slowly - packed his things away. She suspected that it was more curiosity than compliance which moved him.

It was better than nothing.

They walked in silence towards the courtyard, Evelyn wandering casually yet with purpose. Eventually, she stopped on the covered bridge; it was too cold for anyone else to be there, the rest of the students deciding to stay indoors.

She leaned against the balcony which overlooked the grounds. In the distance, she could see the lake.

Oh Merlin, am I really going to say it? Am I really going to -

“You’ve hardly been eating.” She cut her own thoughts off before she lost her nerve, although she kept her gaze focused on the lake. She could feel Riddle’s stare, hot and probing, boring into the side of her head. She crinkled the wrapped sandwiches in her hands before handing one over to him. “If you collapse from hunger, I’ll feel responsible.” She explained jokingly.

She spoke as if she were making an observation about the weather, her tone light and airy. She focused on keeping her breathing steady and her shoulders loose. The last thing she wanted was Tom to see how nervous she was.

Evelyn risked a glance over at her companion. He was staring at the sandwich in his hands as if it were an alien and he didn’t know what to do with it.

“I am capable of attending to my own needs.” He said, but there was no bite in his voice. He faced the lake as well, unwrapping the packaging with the same deliberate precision he gave to turning pages in a book.

“I know you are,” Evelyn replied evenly, “but you weren’t. So I thought I’d intervene before you fainted dramatically in the common room - that would ruin your reputation, wouldn’t it?”

His mouth twitched at the corners, more a faint disturbance in his features than a smile, but his shoulders finally relaxed and he took a bite of his sandwich.

They stood in easy silence as they ate, the Black Lake stretching out below them.

“What’s been on your mind, Tom?” Her voice caressed each syllable of his name delicately, her voice so quiet it might as well have been carried away on the wind. But Tom heard everything she said with painful clarity.

He looked at her openly for a moment, admiring against his will the way her hair blew across her face in the wind. The tip of her nose was brushed with pink because of the cold, her breath coming out in tiny puffs.

It unexpectedly struck him how alive she looked in that moment. Her very presence seemed to pull colour into the world around her. It was…inconvenient. Beauty had always been something to exploit or dismiss, but here, watching her stand beside him and look at him with eyes shining in concern, the Black Lake the backdrop to their conversation…the whole scene was almost enough to make him say more than he should.

He considered the nearly finished sandwich in his hands; a ridiculous gesture, and yet it had found its mark. Something fragile and warm and entirely foreign fluttered fluttered in his chest, before he sealed it away, intent on pretending it didn’t exist.

Tom grappled with his words, before settling on the best he could do.

“You make a habit of…interfering.” It came out gentler than he intended, and he cursed himself for it. He surveyed her a fraction longer than he normally did before turning back to the lake.

Control Tom, remain in control.

This was uncharted territory for him.

“I’m keeping you on your toes, remember?” She teased quietly. “But in all seriousness, I only interfere when I think it matters.”

Tom’s grip on the railing tightened until his knuckles turned white. There had been a sickening twist in his stomach when she said that, something that made him feel like all the air had been sucked from his lungs.

Evelyn inched closer, deciding to keep quiet until he chose to speak. She didn’t want to press too hard and risk him closing off. She noticed with a thrill that their arms were nearly touching, a hair’s breadth between them.

She remained still as if he were a skittish animal, and simply enjoyed the view. It didn’t hurt that Tom was so beautiful either.

“There are…matters that require my attention. Complex ones.” Tom spoke at last, his voice low and rich. Evelyn shivered at his tone, thankful that there was a brisk wind. “It is…unusual…to be observed with this level of concern.” He seemed to struggle with picking his words, a frustrated frown on his face.

Evelyn didn’t know much about Tom’s personal life - nothing, in fact - but it was becoming obvious that he hadn’t grown up like most people. The way he flinched away from touch, the sharp turns in his mood, how cold he could be, and the way genuine warmth seemed to catch him off guard…her fingers twitched with the desire to bridge the distance between them.

She smiled faintly instead. “You’ll just have to get used to it I’m afraid.”

Silence reigned supreme again, though Evelyn didn’t push. She felt content, Tom’s reaction had been so much better than what she had expected.

“Perhaps.” Riddle finally said. He turned to face her with a look that made her feel like she’d been stripped bare. She blushed, and cursed herself for doing so. Tom took it in but did not comment, drinking in the sight. “Thank you for the food.” He at last uttered.

Evelyn dipped her head, suddenly too embarrassed to speak. She didn’t trust her voice to come out normally.

“Shall we head back?” The moment had passed, and Tom’s cool mask of politeness had returned. Evelyn nodded, and together they walked back to the castle.

Evelyn had only made it halfway back to the common room before she was accosted by Adrian and Alaric. A Hufflepuff first year had been swearing to anyone who would listen that they saw the Hogwarts Caretaker, Apollyon Pringle, stash some confiscated goods behind a loose panel in the Trophy Room.

“This is a terrible idea.” Evelyn whispered, peaking her head round the corner of the hallway.

“It’s a brilliant idea.” Adrian corrected cheekily, shooting Evelyn a grin over his shoulder. Evelyn huffed and rolled her eyes, but she kept pace with him and Alaric.

“It’s a shame Harriet didn’t want to come.” Evelyn murmured, feeling the absence of their bubbly friend. Harriet never did anything that could get her into trouble, a stark contrast to her twin who enjoyed taking risks every once in a while.

“She never comes along! I thought she might have this time since we convinced you, but nope - such a goody-two shoes.” Adrian joked good-naturedly.

Evelyn couldn’t help how fast her heart was beating. She’d never gone against the rules before, always being obedient towards her aunt's wishes, even when she disagreed with them.

“Relax Evie,” Alaric slung his arm around her shoulders, making her startle, “ Live a little . Imagine all the goodies we’ll get our hands on once we find the stash.”

“ If we find it. Which I’m highly doubtful of.” Evelyn replied teasingly.

“Sh!” Adrian suddenly pressed himself against the wall, Alaric and Evelyn following suit. Peeves the Poltergeist floated past, humming a long-forgotten tune. The trio held their breath, only letting out a sigh of relief once he made it past them.

“That was too close -” Evelyn started to whisper, but Alaric clamped his hand over her mouth, eyes wide as Peeves started to sing.

“Hiding, hiding, I can seeee,

In the corridors plain as can be!

Won’t you come out and have some fun?

Or should I chuck dung-bombs one by one?”

All three of them backtracked down the corridor fast, Peeves maniacal cackling following behind them. Alaric was leagues ahead being the most athletic, with Adrian hot on his trail. Evelyn drew up the rear, a stitch starting to form in her side. She darted round the corner after them where she was roughly pulled into a classroom and the door locked behind her.

Alaric had Evelyn pressed up against his chest, arms wrapped around her as they all caught their breath. Peeves sailed past, mocking and wailing as he searched for them.

Adrian’s frame shook with silent laughter. “I don’t know why I locked the door - he can just float straight through the wall!” They all made eye contact before laughing quietly, the intensity of the moment gone.

“I’m starting to understand why Harriet declined your invitation.” Evelyn huffed, but her bright smile revealed how happy she was to be included.

“Shall we get going?” Adrian asked, eyebrows raised. A smirk twisted his lips and he coughed purposefully, sticking his head out of the classroom door. Evelyn and Alaric were still standing entwined. They stepped away from each other quickly. Evelyn felt like she had been caught doing something she shouldn’t have red-handed.

“Yeah, let’s get going.” Alaric held the door open and they continued on their adventure, an embarrassed silence hanging between them.

When they finally reached the Trophy Room, Alaric and Adrian set to work straight away whilst Evelyn kept guard. They ran their wands along the walls, muttering between themselves as they searched for the loose panel.

“Ah ha!” Adrian roughly kicked a section of wooden panelling to reveal a cramped space stuffed with pilfered sweets, banned joke items, and inexplicably a very battered wizard’s hat.

“We’ve hit the jackpot! C’mon Evie, help us grab some of this loot!” Alaric waved her over, stuffing his pockets with sweets. Evelyn joined in, and soon enough there were only a few sweets left that they couldn’t carry and the hat.

“He’s going to notice this is all gone, you know.” Evelyn commented, folding her arms. She had to admit that she felt a little guilty. Now that the excitement of the night-time escapade had passed, she was starting to feel bad. She could imagine her aunt’s disapproving stare and accompanying lecture - it had been fun running riot with the boys, but she didn’t want to make it a habit.

Still, she couldn’t deny the fun she’d had. It was only right that she experienced one night of mischief - it was practically part of the student experience - and she’d played her part beautifully.

Evelyn hummed happily to herself as they headed towards the Hufflepuff common room to drop Adrian off. The boys walked with a bounce in their step, giddy with the triumph of breaking the rules and getting away with it.

“See you later, Adrian!” Evelyn called quietly.

“See you mate.” Alaric saluted him before following Evelyn back to their own common room. The walk back was silent, both a little too aware of the tension between them. They reached the statue and spoke the password.

Just before it moved to reveal the entrance, Alaric leaned down to murmur in Evelyn’s ear, “See? Fun, wasn’t it?” Goosebumps broke out across her neck before she could stop them.

“I’ll admit…it wasn’t terrible.” She said with mock reluctance. She looped her arms briefly around his neck, giving him a quick squeeze before pushing him away playfully. “But don’t think I’ll be joining you again.”

Alaric clutched his chest dramatically, eyes filled with mirth. “We'll see about that. I can be pretty persuasive.” His smile turned wicked. They could have easily gone straight to bed, but they both lingered at the foot of the stairs, neither quite wanting to go.

“Careful Blackwood, it sounds like you might be flirting with me.” Evelyn lifted her eyebrows in challenge, although her heart rate increased significantly.

“Maybe I am.” The words came without hesitation, the moonlight and shadows in the room making his eyes look darker than they were. He stepped just a fraction closer, his eyes dropping to her lips. Evelyn froze, alarm bells ringing in her head.

Oh Merlin, am I about to have my first kiss? What do I do? Should I lean in, will he lean in? Who should move first?

He was close enough that she could see the dimples in his cheeks in the low light, and just how long his eyelashes really were. A small seed of doubt started to grow rapidly in the moments they spent facing each other. Alaric was affectionate with everyone , even Harriet didn’t escape his bear hugs. Sure, he was definitely different with Evelyn, but did that really mean anything?

“That kind of talk could have consequences.” She replied. It was meant to come out much stronger than it did, all she could manage was a breathy whisper.

Why won’t he just kiss me already?

“I’m counting on it.” Alaric’s voice was low, teasing, and warm. Without warning, he ducked his head down and brushed his lips against Evelyn’s. Butterflies exploded in her stomach, although she remained rooted to the spot. She wasn’t too sure if it could really count as a proper first kiss - it was so quick and so soft that she could have pretended it didn’t happen if she wanted.

Alaric’s pupils were dilated, and Evelyn had never seen him looking more attractive.

Her arms twitched in response, wanting to draw him close and bury her head in his neck, but instead she glanced at the clock and reigned herself - and the night - in.

“Goodnight, Alaric.” She turned to leave.

“Loving and leaving me already?” He teased, though Evelyn felt better in hearing how breathless he was as well. She tossed a shy but meaningful smile at him, deciding not to speak. She had no words left after that electric moment.

Alaric watched after her, lingering a moment in the dark by himself. He ran his fingers through his hair and touched his lips, wondering if had crossed a line with Evelyn. He shrugged to himself, letting the uncertainty slide. He lived for the ‘now’, and knew he would have regretted doing nothing. Evelyn had simply been breath-taking.

After another moment he went up to bed, grinning and feeling better than he had in weeks.

Chapter Text

Trajectory

Morning came too quickly.

Evelyn hadn’t slept well, obsessing over every tiny detail of the previous evening. Did it count as her first kiss? Did Alaric even consider it a proper kiss? If it was a kiss, did she do it right? Well, she hadn’t actually done anything apart from stand still and panic.

She cringed as she dragged the brush through her hair a little too hard, heat blooming in her cheeks. If she could redo last night, she would - this time with an actual reaction instead of freezing like an idiot.

What she needed to do was talk to Harriet about it all, but she felt uncharacteristically shy at the thought - Alaric and Harriet had been friends for years, and she didn’t want to make things awkward in the group.

Do I like him? The thought came uninvited, but to her surprise she didn’t immediately push it away. She thought about his golden tousled hair and how bright his eyes were, and about his freckles and his easy, dimpled smile.

She reflected back on their maybe-kiss the night before, and decided she was probably more caught up in what had happened, rather than it being Alaric himself.

Although if he continues how he is, I could quite easily develop feelings. He’s easy to like. He probably has tons of girls who fancy him.

She didn’t like that thought.

Alaric’s smiling face morphed into dark, piercing eyes and a sharp jaw. Tom Riddle was now staring back at her. Riddle was certainly fascinating to Evelyn, though not in a romantic sense. He was enigmatic, unreadable, and wonderfully intelligent. He did make her stomach flop, although she wasn’t sure if it was in a good or bad way - and, she supposed, she couldn’t be fully to blame if she got butterflies around him - he was gorgeous after all.

She smoothed her skirt, a calming gesture, before she braved the common room. She spotted Alaric immediately, slouched in one of the leather armchairs with his leg hanging off the arm. He had a book propped open, balanced on his knee as he lazily turned the pages.

He looked up at the sound of her footsteps. For the briefest moment something unreadable passed between them as they made eye contact, but it broke when he flicked the book shut.

“Morning.” He said lightly.

“Good morning.” Evelyn echoed, her voice just as casual. Her eyes flickered to his mouth without her permission, and the memory of his lips brushing against hers made her blush. She didn’t know if he had meant it to mean anything.

Neither of them mentioned it.

Instead, they fell into step with each other, sliding effortlessly back into their usual rhythm.

Potions was relatively uneventful; Tom had approached her when it became time to work in pairs, and she had followed him to his table in surprise and quiet pleasure. She had mouthed ‘sorry’ at Alaric, and left him to pair up with one of his Quidditch friends instead.

Tom seemed like himself again after their chat - still polite, and still carrying that faint chill in his manner, but he gave Evelyn his full attention and was present once again.

“Is there anything you’re not perfect at?” Evelyn commented from her perched position on the chair. She watched as Tom methodically worked on their potion, measuring and chopping ingredients in practiced precision.

He paused and looked up, a small smirk on his face. “Not really, no. Hand me the asphodel root.” Evelyn complied, a huff of laughter escaping her lips. It would have felt exceedingly arrogant coming from anyone else, but Tom had said it so matter-of-factly that she believed him.

“I can do this next step.” Evelyn offered, stirring the potion counter-clockwise. She ground up some beetles before measuring the powder. Tom’s hand stilled hers just before she could add it.

“That’s slightly too much.” He instructed.

“Oh.” Evelyn lamented the loss of his hand on hers as he remeasured the amount they needed.

They worked in easy silence, Evelyn following Tom’s occasional correction. She wasn’t terrible at this class, but it wouldn’t hurt her to pay extra attention.

“You’ve improved.” Tom remarked after a stretch of silence.

Evelyn blinked. “I have?” She hadn’t even realised Tom had noticed her rusty skills in potions.

He gave the barest nod. “You’re not rushing, and your consistency is better.”

“Thank you.” Evelyn smiled at the unexpected praise, as small as it was. Compliments from Tom Riddle were rare.

Just then, a small paper bird flew over and lodged itself in her hair.

“Oh?” She reached up and untangled it, recognising Alaric’s messy scrawl instantly.

Quidditch practice after this. Hope to see you there?

He signed it with his name and an ‘x’ and a tiny doodle of what was supposed to be him on a broom, it flew around the note waving at her, eliciting a tiny giggle. She looked up to see Alaric already looking her way. He winked before elbowing his friend who whispered something in his ear. Evelyn blushed, wondering if it was about her.

She turned back to Tom who was still working at their potion, now with a stony face.

“You’re going to give yourself wrinkles if you keep frowning like that.” Evelyn teased. The feeling of slight annoyance tugged at her - Tom always seemed to retreat the moment Alaric appeared -  but she pushed it aside, determined to draw him back out.

He glanced up at her before returning to his work. She shuffled round the workbench to his side, nudging him with her elbow to catch his attention again.

“The Slytherin Quidditch team are practicing this afternoon. Would you like to come and watch with me, Harriet, and Adrian?”

Tom - usually a mask of indifference - actually looked incredulous at her suggestion, forcing Evelyn to suppress a laugh.

“Why would I waste an afternoon standing in the cold, watching some students play with a ball?”

“Because,” Evelyn said lightly, a smile on her face, “you’d be showing pride in your house by supporting your team…and I’ll be there…need I go on? Plus, I promised Alaric that I’d finally watch him practice.”

At the mention of the other boy, Tom’s chopping motions ceased. “I hardly see value in applauding mediocrity.”

Evelyn smirked, trying to contain her laughter further. “Then come and critique him, you’ve already proven you’re excellent at doing so.” She didn’t know how she suddenly felt so comfortable with Tom, but it made talking to him a lot easier. She supposed they had covered some ground in their friendship at the covered bridge the previous day.

A myriad of emotions danced across his expression quickly - annoyance, amusement, and a little curiosity.

“You’re persistent.” He observed. Evelyn’s heart jumped, that wasn’t a no. When Tom Riddle didn’t want to do something, he made it clear from the beginning.

“I’ve been told it’s one of my better qualities.” Evelyn joked. “Come on, you can glare at him the whole time from the stands. It’ll be fun.”

Fun. Tom thought, the word foreign in his mind. It rolled around like a loose marble, odd and out of place. He didn’t feel the urge to seek out ‘fun’ like others his age. Fun to him meant an evening of solitude with a dark book, able to research freely.

This type of fun was frivolous and a distraction. And yet…the image sprang unbidden in his mind: Evelyn, nose red from the cold, cheeks rosy, smiling in that blinding and unguarded way she did when she forgot herself…

He tapped his knife against the chopping board, eyes watching as she stirred their potion. Evelyn would be there…with Blackwood. The thought carried an unpleasant edge. Tom already felt a darkening in his mood as he remembered the note he sent, interrupting their work - (and certainly not their time together!).

Tom had to admit to himself that the idea of Blackwood holding her attention for an entire afternoon sat poorly with him. He could imagine it now - Blackwood would surely tumble around in the air, using cheap tricks and making a spectacle of himself, all for the benefit of making Evelyn laugh.

His jaw tightened at his predicament. Watching Quidditch was beneath him, but letting Blackwood have her company uncontested…that was worse. Tom sent her a glare, timed when she was looking away. Why was she putting him in this situation? She should be astute enough to understand that Tom wasn’t interested in Blackwood, so by extension neither should she.

At least there was a certain appeal in the idea of being in her line of sight, although he could barely acknowledge this to himself. He could, perhaps (and without much effort) remind Evelyn where her focus should be.

“Please turn in your potions!” Slughorn called from the front, interrupting his thoughts. They both reached for the bottle at the same time and brushed fingers. His gaze flickered over to her, steady and unreadable, before holding the vial out.

“You can turn it in.”

Evelyn smiled softly. “I hope to see you at the practice, I’ll be in the lower stands.”

“You did what?” Adrian demanded, staring at Evelyn as though she’d just tried to hex him behind his back.

Evelyn shrugged, slightly nervous yet overall unbothered by his shock. “I said -”

“I heard what you said,” Adrian cut in, “but why?” He sounded almost offended. When she’d met them at the stands, she’d admitted - perhaps unwisely - that she’d invited Tom Riddle along. She suddenly felt nervous under Adrian’s scrutiny; she didn’t mean to upset him or Harriet. Before she could spiral and start to worry if she’d ruined their friendship, Harriet spoke up.

She placed a calming hand on her brother’s arm, giving him a pointed look. “Adrian, Evie can invite whoever she wants to Quidditch practice. I very much doubt Riddle will actually turn up anyway.” Evelyn sent her a small look which said ‘thank you’. If anyone could calm Adrian down, it would be his twin.

“That’s true,” Adrian allowed, though his frown lingered. “In the last five years, I’ve never seen him here. Still - ” He turned back to Evelyn, clearly gearing up for another question when his words caught in his throat.

He blinked. “Really?”

Following his gaze, Evelyn’s stomach gave a small, unexpected flip. Making their way through the stands with purposeful ease was Tom Riddle himself, immaculate as ever, with Alphard Nott in tow, looking like he would rather be anywhere else but there.

Tom’s eyes found her almost instantly, and she straightened instinctively as he approached, a self-conscious warmth creeping into her cheeks.

Adrian muttered under his breath, “I think the temperature just dropped.”

“Don’t be rude.” Harriet pleaded, elbowing him sharply. She knew all too well how hot her brother's temper could run sometimes.

Tom reached their row, pausing only briefly before smoothly stepping into the gap between Adrian and Evelyn. “Evelyn.” He greeted casually, as though arriving at the Quidditch stands was the most natural thing in the world for him.

“You came!” Evelyn blurted, a little louder than she intended. Nott’s brows rose at her enthusiasm, but she recovered quickly, gesturing to her friends. “This is Adrian and Harriet Fern - my friends from Hufflepuff.”

“Best friends,” Adrian corrected firmly, stepping forward and gripping Tom’s hand with just a touch too much force. Evelyn’s heart leapt—best friends! For a moment, Tom was almost forgotten as she soaked in the significance of the title.

Adrian, oblivious to the effect of his words, continued, “I’m surprised to see you here, Riddle. And…?”

“Alphard Nott.” Came the easy reply as the other boy stepped forward, his handshake confident. “Pleasure to meet you both.” His gaze slid toward Harriet and he assessed her briefly. Then came a blinding smile, all white teeth and charm.

Harriet’s composure faltered; she was already a bit uncomfortable, but to have the tall Slytherin’s attention made her eyes drop quickly, a flush creeping across her cheeks. She mumbled something polite in return, though it was barely audible over the sounds of the pitch below.

Adrian openly glared at Nott.

Evelyn caught the exchange and hid her smirk. Nott’s effect on people was predictable, poor Harriet hadn’t stood a chance. Tom, however, seemed wholly uninterested in continuing the pleasantries.

“Shall we sit?” Tom suggested, though it sounded more like a decision rather than a question.

Tom sat down, Nott to his right and Evelyn to his left, followed by Adrian and Harriet. Evelyn’s whole body was taut as she sat on the edge of her seat, though it wasn’t due to the Quidditch practice. All she could smell was Tom.

He smelt like smoky incense and something sharper, like basil or crushed ivy, and old books in the best possible way. She found herself subtly leaning closer without meaning to.

Merlin, how can someone look and smell so good? Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea inviting him after all.

Evelyn was finding herself much too distracted to even follow the practice. Down on the pitch, the Slytherin team has just finished their warm up laps. She scanned for Alaric, spotting him easily as he mounted his broom and shot into the air. Both she and Harriet called out to him, waving happily.

He spotted them both and smiled, raising a hand in greeting. His grin faltered slightly when his eyes landed on the two extra figures seated beside Evelyn. Expression cooling, Alaric swooped over to them.

“Adrian!” He leaned off of his broom daringly, fist-bumping his best friend. “Ladies.” He waggled his eyes brows suggestively, making the two girls laugh and bat him away.

The easy smile he’d been wearing flattened into something more guarded as he nodded to the two new additions.

“Riddle, Nott.”

“Blackwood.” Tom’s reply was equally as clipped, polite enough to be passable but lacking any pretence of warmth. They sized each other up for a moment, an unspoken challenge in their gazes.

“Well,” Alaric finally said, shifting his attention back to Evelyn, “looks like you’ve assembled quite the audience. Didn’t realise I was so popular!” It was said light enough in that easy, charming way that Alaric was so good at, though he couldn’t help as his eyes flickered back to Tom, almost glaring at him.

“Maybe they’re here for me.” Evelyn teased.

“Or maybe we’re only here because Adrian still owes you money.” Harriet laughed as her brother swatted at her.

“Hey! Don’t remind him about that!” He joked.

“So, what are you here for Riddle?” Alaric asked, a challenge in his voice.

“Some of us are here for Quidditch,” Tom replied smoothly, “others…for the spectacle.” His eyes lingered on Alaric for a beat too long, the implication clear.

Alaric’s grin sharpened. “Ah, so you do have an appreciation for talent. I was starting to wonder.”

Tom’s lips curved - barely. “I appreciate precision. There is a difference.”

Evelyn and Harriet glanced at each other as the boys continued to exchange words.

“That so?” Alaric rested an elbow casually against his broom handle.

“Some of us prefer results over theatrics.” Tom replied, tone silky.

Alaric chuckled freely, reluctantly impressed. Riddle gave as good as he got.

“Good thing I can deliver both then.” His gaze turned to Evelyn, his smile returning to that effortless warmth. “Keep an eye out sweetheart, I’ll try to make it worth your time.” He winked and kicked off back to the pitch, startlingly fast.

“Sweetheart?” Nott questioned. Evelyn blushed and shrugged in response, her voice failing her. Out of all of Tom’s friends, Nott was the easiest to get along with, and the one Evelyn interacted with the most. He was a nice acquaintance to have, and she hoped they could become fast friends.

“He’ll put on a good show for you, sweetheart.” Adrian teased cheekily. He slung his arm round her shoulder and pulled her in, messing up her hair. Evelyn complained good-naturedly and reared back, straight into Tom’s chest.

His hands came up instinctively to steady her, his grip strong.

“Sorry Tom.” Her cheeks went that delicious shade of pink that Tom found he liked.

“Careful.” He murmured. He reluctantly let go - he would have preferred to keep her close and away from Fern, who was proving to be quite annoying, but instead he let Evelyn settle in again.

Soon enough, the Slytherin seeker streaked by, Evelyn recognised him as one of Alaric’s close friends.

“Careful Fern, or you might make Alaric jealous!” The player tossed over his shoulder, smirking. Alaric was within earshot and chased after him playfully before diverting his attention back to the practice.

Even though Adrian didn’t have feelings for Evelyn, his ears still turned red as all attention was turned on him. “I’m heartbroken! You mean I never had a chance all this time?” He joked dramatically, looking at Evelyn.

“I don’t think you were ever in the running.” Nott drawled, reclining back in his seat.

“Of course he wasn’t, poor Evelyn could do better than all of you.” Harriet giggled, her brown eyes sliding over to meet Nott’s darker ones for a second. It seemed her friend had found her voice again.

“Rude.” Adrian muttered, though his grin stayed firmly in place.

The Slytherin team mounted their brooms after a brief discussion on the ground, their faces serious.

“Ah, here we go. The real practice is about to begin.” Adrian commented, leaning forwards.

The team moved into formation, the Quaffle being expertly passed back and forth, whilst the chasers weaved around each other with precision. Adrian was off in his own world, although he seemed to be attentively listening to Harriet and Alphard’s hushed words. Nott had moved to sit just behind Harriet and had struck up a conversation.

Evelyn’s attention was split between trying to eavesdrop on what they were saying, and on following Alaric as he flew across the pitch. He pulled off an impressive manoeuvre, drawing whistles from some of the spectating students. He only cared if Evelyn saw, which she did. She mouthed ‘wow’ and cheered him on.

Tom’s voice suddenly cut through the noise of the pitch, very close to her ear.

“He’s fast, but his aim is sloppy. That last pass - amateurish.” Goosebumps raced across her skin.

He’s so close.

“You’re taking this whole ‘critiquing’ thing very seriously.” She teased, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m surprised you even know the rules.”

“I make a point of knowing things others don’t expect me to,” He murmured, “keeps them guessing.”

They lapsed into easy silence, the wind cutting their conversation short with its ferocity. A few of the players wobbled precariously on their brooms, although Alaric wasn’t phased. Evelyn snuck a glance at her friends; somehow Adrian, Harriet, and Alphard were engaged in keeping a running commentary, with Alphard and Adrian even diverting into a somewhat civil conversation about varying Quidditch formations.

Fiddling with the hem of her skirt, she risked pressing ever so slightly closer to Tom. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything.

“I suppose understanding the rules is the first step in exploiting them.” Evelyn finally said. Tom’s gaze flew to her face.

“Exactly.” A small smirk gracing his face. They turned back to watch the practice.

Evelyn could tell Alaric was in his element. He weaved effortlessly between the opposing Chasers, the Quaffle never lost, darting left and right with ease. Each goal came with a flourish - sometimes a daring spin, other times a last minute feint that would send the Keeper lunging the wrong way. Adrian would whoop each time, although Harriet was more restrained. Evelyn would cheer on occasion, tossing Tom a cheerful grin when his face started to close off.

Alaric was a performer as much as he was a player, and he knew it.

However, Evelyn couldn’t deny that Tom’s whispered observations - whilst critical - were accurate. For all of Alaric’s flair, his movements also carried a certain carelessness. In his efforts to dazzle the crowd (Evelyn), he sacrificed efficiency in preference for showmanship. A few goals were forfeited because of this.

Eventually, the practice wound down after an hour and half.

“I don’t know they do it,” Evelyn marvelled, “I feel exhausted from simply watching.” Harriet agreed quietly.

“So, Riddle. What did you think?” Adrian asked, turning in his seat to face the other boy.

“A Chaser who can’t judge the trajectory of a Quaffle isn’t worth much.”

Adrian spluttered indignantly. “Hey! He’s not sloppy. Alaric is one of the best Chasers on the team. You’d know that if you actually watched the game instead of sitting here running your mouth!”

Tom remained unimpressed; he could see it all quite clearly. Fern was Blackwood’s well-trained and loyal dog, one who would yap away but was harmless in the long run. He could almost call it…endearingly cute.

Tom remained calm and unshaken in the face of Adrian’s exclamation.

“I watched, Fern. Talent alone doesn’t excuse poor technique. Showmanship is impressive, yes - but a single misjudged pass can cost the team victory.”

Adrian seemed to chew on his tongue for a moment, before he settled on crossing his arms, leaning back in his seat. “You really know how to ruin the fun, don’t you Riddle?”

Tom smirked. Harriet let out what seemed like a genuine laugh.

“Honestly, boys - you all take Quidditch too seriously!” She rolled her eyes playfully, diffusing any tension that might have escalated. They all stood up and stretched stiff limbs, with Adrian suggesting that they go down to meet Alaric.

“You both go ahead, I’ll say goodbye to Tom and Alphard - I get the impression you’re both ready to leave.” Evelyn said softly. Adrian nodded and set off, Harriet not far behind him. She turned back briefly to smile at Nott, who smiled back easily.

Alphard glanced at Tom knowingly, “I best be going too. I have notes to prepare. It was nice seeing you Evelyn, and your friends…well, they’re interesting.” With a friendly nod, he stepped away, leaving the two alone. The sudden quiet between them felt different.

“So…did you enjoy it?” Evelyn asked, trying to keep her tone light and conversational. She clasped her hands behind her back, tilting her head slightly as she spoke, a nervous energy tucked under her calm posture.

Tom studied her quietly for a few moments, before he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“You made it…tolerable,” He admitted, his voice low and precise. Every word weighed and measured, as always.

Evelyn’s face lit up at the words, and she gave him one of her bright, genuine smiles. “Tolerable?” She teased, stepping a little closer. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

Tom’s lips twitched, almost imperceptibly, the faintest trace of a smirk - or was it a smile? -  breaking his usual composure. “I guess you could say it is.” He said carefully, eyes lingering on her just long enough to make her stomach flutter. His tone was the lightest she’d ever heard it, and she found herself momentarily tongue tied as she stared into his eyes.

She smiled shyly as they made their way down from the stands in companionable silence, Tom offering his arm for a moment when they came across an uneven section. Evelyn could feel the sparks flying as she delicately grabbed his arm, stepping over the offending section with ease.

She hadn’t needed his help at all, but she would never decline a moment of contact, even if it was through a coat. They reach the entrance, knowing they were about to part ways; Evelyn to rejoin her friends, and Tom to do whatever it was he did when the evenings grew dark.

“Tom,” Evelyn’s voice was incredibly soft, a mixture of happiness and butterflies causing her to speak. Almost without thinking she continued, “I’m glad you came. It was nice to do something with you other than studying.”

Tom’s gaze flickered, and for a moment Evelyn thought she saw a flicker of something almost…soft about him. Then he nodded, as if conceding the point. “I suppose there are benefits to a change of scenery.” He considered her for a moment. “Perhaps… we should do it again sometime.”

Evelyn’s heart skipped. She barely managed a nod, words caught somewhere between surprise and anticipation. “I’d like that.” She said softly.

Tom inclined his head once, his expression returning to its usual controlled calm. “Good. Until next time, Evelyn.”

Chapter Text

Exposed

The following morning found Evelyn and Alaric tucked away in a quiet corner of the Slytherin common room, during a rare free period. Parchment and quills were strewn haphazardly across their table as they muddled their way through homework. Sunlight filtered through the tall window beside them, revealing the enchanted view of the Black Lake.

Alaric watched her, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He couldn’t help but admire the way the light reflected off of her eyes. Homework long forgotten, he enjoyed the guilty pleasure of simply admiring her. When she finally looked back down at her notes, hair tucked neatly behind her ears, he scrunched up a piece of parchment and flicked it at her forehead to gain her attention.

A school of fish darted past, shimmering in the light, and Evelyn’s attention wavered for a moment. She leaned closer to the glass, fascinated. She didn’t think she would ever get tired of the views from the castle.

“Do we really have to do homework?” Alaric asked, mock-pouting.

Evelyn’s lips quirked in response, laughter hiding behind her composed expression. “ You don’t have to, but I’m certainly not letting this time go to waste.” Another ball of paper was sent flying her way, which she neatly dodged. Evelyn smiled and sighed, putting her quill down; Alaric clearly wasn’t going to let her work at the moment.

“Who said I’m wasting time?” He countered, leaning back in his chair with exaggerated ease. “I’m relaxing…there’s a pretty girl by my side…all that’s missing is a bit of mischief.” His eyes sparkled, teasing.

Evelyn arched a single eyebrow, unimpressed, though the corner of her mouth betrayed her amusement. “I’m strictly here to study.”

Alaric raised his hands in mock surrender, but his grin never faded. “Right, of course. Strictly studying.” He couldn’t help but wink, feeling victorious when a faintest tint of red appeared on her cheeks.

Silence settled over them as a group of students walked past their corner, laughing loudly. Evelyn took the opportunity to return to her work, slightly grateful when her study partner decided to do the same. For a few minutes all that could be heard was the scratching of quills, a small frown on Evelyn’s face as she stared at her History of Magic textbook.

“You’re hopeless,” Alaric suddenly exclaimed from across the table with a grin. “You’ve been staring at that same page for five minutes. Not a single word has sunk in.”

“And whose fault is that?” Evelyn complained, though her mouth twitched. “I’ve not known a moment’s peace since we’ve sat down.”

“I’m needy, what can I say?” Alaric replied easily, a mischievous glint in his eye. He paused, letting his gaze linger just a second longer than necessary, before casually asking, “What did you think of practice yesterday?”

Evelyn considered him, catching the subtle shift in his tone. She smiled softly, holding back a small giggle.

“You were very impressive. I had no idea you were so good at playing Quidditch!”

Alaric beamed, his ears turning red. “It helped that I had my number one supporter cheering me on. You make an exceptional cheerleader. I guess you’ll just have to come along to every match now.”

Evelyn rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered. “Flattery will get you nowhere, you know.”

“Nowhere?” He echoed, leaning forward, elbows on the table. His gaze sharpened playfully. “I’d say it’s getting me exactly where I want to be.”

“And where’s that?”

“Right here,” Alaric gestured, “keeping you distracted long enough that you forget we even have homework.”

Evelyn laughed, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And also…irresistible?”

Evelyn was forcefully reminded of their not-really-but-maybe kiss and she blushed fiercely, suddenly unable to meet his eyes.

“You’re infuriating.” She muttered, returning to her work.

“Am I? Or did you mean to say charming ?”

Evelyn shook her head, laughing despite herself. “Definitely infuriating.”

Evelyn collapsed onto her bed, a long, quiet sigh escaping her lips. She had waved goodbye to Alaric as he was swept off by his red-headed Quidditch friend — someone she had learned was called Samuel Littlefoot — and instead of seeking out Harriet or Adrian, she had retreated to the sanctuary of her dorm room.

For the first time that day, she closed her eyes and let stillness wash over her, savouring the rare gift of silence. The near constant buzz of voices from the other students faded away, replaced with the steady rhythm of her breathing.

Evelyn thought about her friends; her best friends, as Adrian has declared so confidently. Her heart felt full as she relived the memory at the Quidditch stands. She’d never taken issue with being alone before starting Hogwarts, but now that she’d experienced life with others, she could never go back to how she once lived.

After spending her entire childhood and much of her adolescence alone, she did sometimes find that the constant company of her friends could be unexpectedly exhausting. Her mind wandered over to Tom, and she felt a pang of guilt as she realised that she didn’t find it exhausting being around him .

She chalked it up to the calmness he excluded, and how they seemed to have more moments of silence than shared words. Tom’s intensity could be a little much at times, but she likened him to a large, deep body of water. The surface barely ever rippled, but when it did it was powerful and felt like it was sucking her in entirely, leaving her breathless.

Hogwarts was overwhelming in ways she hadn’t anticipated, but so far it has been the best experience of her life. She had friends now - real and loyal and wonderfully funny - and for all the noise and activity, it was something she would never take for granted.

Quite suddenly, the perfect calm she had been enjoying was shattered; the other four occupants of the room tumbled in through the doorway, the bubble of chatter dying down once they realised they weren’t alone.

Evelyn sat up self-consciously, wishing she hadn’t bothered coming back up the stairs.

“Evelyn.” Seraphina’s face morphed into something predatory, an icy smile replacing the carefree grin she had worn moments previously.

“Seraphina.” Evelyn nodded at her and the rest of the girls, standing up in preparation to leave, feeling nervous. Isabelle Vaines, the one who had kindly advised her not to shout about her blood status on her first night at Hogwarts, looped arms with her and dragged her back down to sit on her bed forcefully.

They never made any real effort to include her, their interactions limited to polite ‘good mornings’ and passing nods in shared classes or along the corridors. Each movement felt rehearsed, each smile careful not to appear too friendly, and Evelyn couldn’t shake the feeling of being deliberately excluded from their close friendship. Initially she battled with the quiet sting of rejection, although it had disappeared the longer she spent with the twins and Alaric, but now it came back full force under the spotlight of their attention. 

There was something about the way Seraphina was smiling that Evelyn didn’t like.

“We were actually just talking about you…and, well…” Isabelle paused and shared a loaded glance with the other girls, communicating without speaking, until she turned back with a sickly smile. “…we thought we should check in.”

Evelyn’s stomach tightened uncomfortably, although she forced a neutral expression.

“Oh? What about?” She had a feeling they weren’t suddenly concerned for her wellbeing.

“You know…we were wondering how you’re finding Hogwarts so far.” Vespera Cowley, a quiet girl with chestnut curls, placed her hand on Evelyn’s arm as she spoke. “You and Riddle seem to be getting close.”

Ah. Evelyn scolded herself for feeling even a flicker of hope that they might actually care, and for thinking that they might be making an effort to include her. The truth was now obvious: they were only after gossip, eager to pry into anything remotely interesting - especially if it involved the handsome prefect.

She had learned to ignore their barely whispered late-night conversations, murmurs that crept past her bed-curtains when they thought she was asleep, dissecting every boy in the house and debating who was the cutest. Those murmurs always, inevitably, circled back to Tom Riddle, much to Evelyn’s irritation.

The silence stretched, taut and nearly suffocating, as Evelyn scrambled for a response.

“We…study together.” She managed at last, her voice thin and uncertain. Her nails were digging into her palms as the girls subtly closed ranks, blocking any chance of an easy escape.

Thalia Alwick — heir to the Alwick fortune — let out a sharp, unflattering titter. “You must be something to keep up with his standards.”

“Yes,” Isabelle added, her tone syrupy but underlined with mockery, “Tom is so clever. Perhaps you should have been sorted into Ravenclaw instead?”

A chorus of polite, hollow giggles rippled through the group, their eyes flicking to Evelyn with calculated amusement. Evelyn felt sick to her stomach as memories of unsuccessful attempts at friendship - and the subsequent rejections - flooded her mind. Why were they doing this to her?

Seraphina flicked her hair over her shoulder, crossing one slim leg over the other. “Not that we’d ever pry, of course. Just curious.” She paused, smirking. “It’s only natural to wonder how someone like him - after years of showing no interest in anyone - suddenly has time for you.”

Evelyn despaired as her face went hot from humiliation and wounded surprise.

“We’re just friends.” Evelyn replied firmly, grateful that her voice didn’t shake. She could feel a lump in her throat forming, and all she could do was hope that she didn’t make a fool of herself in front of them.

Seraphina’s smile didn’t falter. In fact, it grew sharper. “Of course, just friends. ” She shared a mocking glance with the other girls, who smirked unforgivingly. “Still, you spend a lot of time together. It’s…unusual, isn’t it, spending so much time with a boy one on one?”

“What will people think?” Vespera added, not bothering to hide the judgement in her tone.

“Yes, just imagine all the horrid rumours that could circulate about you?” Thalia tittered again, the rest of the girls joining in.

Are they trying to intimidate me, or upset me? Evelyn couldn’t even allow her thoughts to spiral properly, as her fellow Slytherin girls continued their verbal barrage against her.

Evelyn smoothed her skirt, her heart thudding. “I’ve never paid much attention to gossip.” She said it firmly enough, trying to gain some control over the conversation. If people were talking, let them. They’d realise soon enough there was nothing going on between her and Tom.

“How admirable!” Isabelle cooed, and the girls agreed harmoniously. “But you must understand, people will talk. It’s just human nature.”

“And we’d be doing you a disservice if we didn’t… warn you.” Thalia’s double meaning wasn’t lost on Evelyn, who glanced despairingly at the blocked off exit.

“A word of advice,” Seraphina’s voice was sharp as it silenced the rest of the group, “someone like Tom Riddle tends to attract attention, whether he means to or not. So you better hope you can keep up, Bennett.”

The air felt heavy as Seraphina stood up, rummaging around in her trunk for her scarf. She turned to the common room mirror, arranging it so it hung off her neck perfectly, before turning and flashing her teeth in an imitation of a smile at Evelyn.

“Well, I hope we didn’t trouble you.” She said sweetly, the mocking undertone unmistakeable.

“Girl talk, right?” Vespera added. They all laughed and exited, leaving Evelyn to exhale shakily, hand against her chest. Unwanted tears pooled in her eyes, and she angrily wiped them away, chastising herself.

Her throat felt tight, as if their words had wrapped around it and refused to let go. Rationally she knew that they hadn’t said anything too nasty, but it was more the delivery and how unprovoked it felt. She had never been on the receiving end of something like that before - words designed to mock, to make her doubt and feel incredibly small. What’s worse is that she hated how it had worked. She hated being left trembling, hot tears leaking from the corners of her eyes despite her resistance to them.

What if they were right? What if people really were saying things? The thought made her feel ashamed, even though she wasn’t doing anything wrong. She pressed her palms against her eyes, furious that she couldn’t get a grip over her emotions.

Suddenly the solitude of the dormitory was suffocating; she splashed water on her face and rushed down the stairs, longing for the comfort of her friends, yet wanting to avoid everyone all at once. For the first time in a while, she felt alone.

Tom drummed his fingers against his desk, jaw tightening with every tick of the clock. He had already answered two of Professor Binn’s questions flawlessly, yet his irritation only sharpened with each passing minute. He couldn’t help his eyes flicking over to Evelyn’s empty seat with a sharp stab of displeasure - where was she?

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Blackwood’s furrowed brow as he too glanced at her empty chair. It was almost laughable, really - how transparent people could be with their little attachments. Tom could read the other boy's concern - and his feelings towards Evelyn as easily as ink on parchment, and the sight of it needled at him.

It was a feeling he was fast becoming accustomed to when Alaric Blackwood was involved.

Tom glanced up at the clock, his irritation simmering under the surface of his carefully controlled demeanour. If Evelyn thought she could disrupt his order by vanishing from class - trying to unsettle him for even a moment - she was sorely mistaken.

The moment class was dismissed, Tom snapped his satchel shut and swept from the room, Nott and Lestrange falling into step behind him. For ten long minutes they moved in silence, the tide of students in the corridors moving aside instinctively in the face of Tom’s dark mood.

He turned a corner and halted as someone stumbled into him. Evelyn Bennett - the source of his current ire - stood before him, frozen with surprise etched across her face. His eyes swept over her in an instant; clumped lashes, red rimmed eyes, even her nose was tinged pink - though whether from the cold or from tears he couldn’t tell.

“Leave us.” Tom commanded coolly, not even glancing at the two boys. Lestrange turned immediately away, although Nott hesitated a fraction as he realised something was amiss. He made eye contact with Evelyn and pursed his lips before he too turned to leave.

Tom took one step forward, the air heavy despite the laughter from other students who skirted around them.

“What happened?” He demanded, his voice low.

Evelyn worried her bottom lip, feeling embarrassed. She clearly took too long to reply because Tom grabbed her by the elbow and directed her firmly into an unused classroom, slamming the door shut behind them.

Oh Merlin, of all the people to bump into - why Tom? She wasn’t sure she could deal with his intensity right now.

“Evelyn,” His voice was like steel, cutting through the air and commanding her attention, “who was it?”

“I -”

“You’ve been crying - I can see it all over your face. Don’t insult me by denying it.” The heat behind his words made her pause as she considered him. Could she possibly open up to him? She had thought she’d talk it over with Harriet, but here Tom was, unmovable and fierce and in his own way, reassuring.

She fiddled with a strand of her hair, almost peeking up at him through her lashes. Part of her didn’t want Tom to see her reacting in this way, weak and affected by others’ words. She decided the safest course of action would be to downplay the whole situation. Merlin knows she was probably overreacting anyway.

“It’s nothing,” She muttered finally, a weak grin lighting up her face - it didn’t reach her eyes, “just…stupid girl stuff. I’m most certainly overreacting.”

Tom didn’t even blink. “Their names.” He demanded, his voice clipped and precise.

“It’s not important. I shouldn’t have let them get to me - they were just being…I don’t know, petty? Mean?” She let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh as she ran her hand through her hair. It spilled over her shoulders messily. “I shouldn’t let it get to me.” Evelyn felt silly as she confessed this - she couldn’t believe she’d skipped class because of them! She promised herself she would never skip class.

“You will tell me now , Evelyn. Don’t make me ask again.” Tom’s tone was dark, and Evelyn found herself talking, despite her reluctance.

“It was just the other girls in my dorm…saying silly things. It doesn’t matter.” She paused, a flicker of genuine vulnerability breaking through. “They said people were…that they might be talking about us . And not in a nice way.” She wrung her hands, voice small. She was nervous for Tom’s reaction - would this potential drama make him regret being her friend? Is this the last she’d see of him? What if Alaric, Adrian, and Harriet found out and decided they didn’t want to be friends with her either? What if -

“ People might be talking?” He repeated, his eyes narrowed. There was a flare of anger as he spoke, and Evelyn cringed, waiting for him to turn on his heel and never speak to her again. “Do you actually care what other people think?”

Evelyn glanced up, surprised.

“No I don’t, but - “

“Then there is your answer.” He interrupted, his tone cold and final. “Do not waste your breath worrying over them. They’re not worthy of your attention. And let me be perfectly clear: anyone who dares to touch you, even with words, will regret it.”

Evelyn shivered, unable to tear her eyes away from his. For a single, suspended moment, the world beyond him ceased to exist. And strangely, she felt steadier - anchored by his cold, unyielding presence. He grounded her in a way she couldn’t fully understand, and despite herself, a surge of gratitude welled up inside her.

“Tom…thank you.” Evelyn couldn’t help the soft smile that lit up her face, the last of her morose feelings being chased away.

“Do not let them bother you again, do you understand?”

“Yes.” She whispered softly, but firm enough that he was satisfied.

Tom’s lips pressed into a thin line, the tension in his shoulders easing fractionally. “Good. Then let it die where it belongs - beneath you.”

“You’re a good friend, Tom. Thank you. Who knew you had such a caring side?” Evelyn couldn’t help but tease him, although there was no doubting the sincerity her words were drenched in.

Tom Riddle actually rolled his eyes in response, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“Clearly you are in good spirits again.” His voice was flat, but Evelyn could sense the approval in it.

Overwhelmed by the events of the day, and still feeling eternally grateful that Tom didn’t push her away, she hesitated for a split second before leaning in and giving him a brief hug. She knew she shouldn’t have - Tom hated physical touch after all - but it was almost instinctive on her part.

She felt the tension in him instantly; his shoulders stiffened, his jaw tightened, he didn’t move, and it seemed like he had stopped breathing altogether. Tom despised this - physical closeness was an unnecessary softness in his eyes. It was uncomfortable and foreign, and yet he found that he tolerated it for her sake, if only to allow her a moment to compose herself.

He allowed her to cling for a heartbeat longer than strictly necessary, his hands remaining rigid at his side. He stared at the wall over her head, exhaling imperceptibly as if he had just endured a storm when she pulled away.

“There,” He said, his voice clipped and painfully polite, “now go. Compose yourself. Weak people despise what they cannot understand - and they will try to tear it down.”

Evelyn nodded, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

“Will I see you in the library tonight? Or…we could go for a walk? I actually caught up on my homework this morning with Alaric.”

Tom’s expression didn’t change. His reply was immediate and brief. “Be at the courtyard entrance at seven.”

The Great Hall was unusually quiet for a late afternoon, the long tables dotted with small clusters of students bent over parchment and books. The calming scratching of quills was occasionally broken by a burst of laughter, but otherwise, it was calmer than Evelyn was used to seeing.

Her eyes immediately caught Seraphina and the other girls gathered at the Slytherin table, and for a moment her stomach twisted, threatening to make her turn away.

Get a grip, Evelyn Bennett! She scolded herself, straightening her shoulders. Forcing her gaze forward, she spotted Harriet and Adrian sitting together at the Hufflepuff table and made a beeline towards them. They both looked up at the sound of her sure footsteps, a few first year Hufflepuff’s staring wide-eyed as she sat down opposite the twins. A Slytherin at their table? Unheard of.

“Thought I’d find you two here.” She said lightly, dropping her satchel onto the table with a dull thud.

“Evie!” Harriet exclaimed, her Arithmancy equation abandoned. The twins exchanged a quick look.

“You okay? Alaric said you didn’t show up to History of Magic today - not that I blame you, I’ve skipped that class plenty of times.” Adrian chuckled dryly, although the underlying note of concern was evident.

“I didn’t take you as the type to skip.” Harriet stated it softly, her brown eyes shining with quiet worry.

Evelyn sighed, pulling a book out of her bag just for something to do with her hands.

“You’re right, I’m not usually one to skip class. I had an interaction with…some people, and I must admit it threw me off for nearly the whole afternoon.” Evelyn confessed quietly.

“Who?” Adrian asked, coming in hot straight away. Evelyn reached across the table and brushed her hand against his in a calming gesture. She appreciated him, and she was starting to understand what it felt like to have a brother.

“The other girls I room with. Seraphina, Thalia -”

“Thalia Alwick? She’s set to inherit a fortune!” Adrian interrupted wistfully. Harriet elbowed him and he had the grace to look apologetic.

“ Anyway , what happened next?”

Evelyn glanced up at the enchanted ceiling, confusion marring her features. “I just couldn’t understand it, Harriet. They’ve always left me alone, but they’ve never been awful like they were today…” The twins allowed her to trail off, waiting patiently as she collected her thoughts.

“What did they say?” Adrian pressed, his voice firm.

“They said that people were talking about me, and about who I spend my time with.”

Understanding dawned on Adrian’s face, and he nodded solemnly. “They’re talking about Riddle.”

Harriet huffed in disbelief, leaning forwards on her elbows. “That’s ridiculous. You know they’re just jealous, right? They’ve got nothing better to do than to make up stories.”

“Exactly.” Adrian agreed, his voice carrying a little too loudly. Several heads turned to look their way curiously, but his glare made them look away just as fast.

“I’m not usually one for gossip,” Harriet began, “but I seem to recall very clearly that Seraphina had been turned down by Riddle for four years straight before she took the hint.”

Evelyn huffed out a laugh, hiding behind her hand. “Well, that explains a lot then.”

“Evie, don’t give them the satisfaction of knowing they got under your skin, okay?” Adrian tossed a chocolate frog at her, which she deftly caught before it could leap away.

She laughed gently, although it was a little hollow. “That’s what Tom said.”

The name lingered heavily in the air for a moment. Harriet glanced at her brother and then back at Evelyn. “Well, Tom’s not wrong.”

Adrian rolled his eyes good-naturedly, “Forget everyone else, you have us! What more could you want?” He winked, and they lapsed into easy chatter, her troubles seemed tiny in comparison to the warmth they excluded.

The Great Hall doors creaked open to reveal Alaric, with his friend Samuel and a few other boys from the Quidditch team bringing up the rear. They brought in a loud burst of laughter with them, disrupting the peaceful atmosphere. Jostling with his friends, Alaric met Evelyn’s gaze by accident from across the room.

Eyebrows quirking up in surprise, he bounded over, his friend forgotten.

“Evie!” He called, sliding onto the bench next to her, his presence large and warm and filling the space like it always did. Without hesitation, he secured an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side for a warm hug. “Where were you earlier? You had me worried.” He half joked.

Evelyn smiled back easily, feeling much lighter than she had when she first ventured into the Hall.

“Just had a little run in with Seraphina and her friends - but don’t worry, I’m feeling much better now thanks to these two.” Her eyes sparkled as she looked at her friends gratefully.

Adrian’s grin turned mischievous, “ Tom swooped in and did his whole charming ‘wise lecture’ thing though, cheered her right up before she even got here.” He said it deliberately, teasing his friend in a way only he could get away with.

“Did he now?” Alaric joked lightly, “can’t beat me though, right Evie?” Evelyn let out a squawk as his fingers briefly tickled her side, making her blush faintly.

“You are incorrigible, Alaric Blackwood.” Harriet rolled her eyes, smiling.

“I live to entertain.” Alaric replied smoothly, resting his cheek against Evelyn’s head. She relaxed into his side, enjoying the feeling of him playing with the end of her hair. Adrian and Harriet started to bicker, and he took the opportunity to murmur gently in her ear.

“Those girls didn’t upset you too much, right?”

Evelyn reached her own arm round him, squeezing his side gently in return. “I’m fine now. Thank you.” She looked up at him, blushing at their proximity.

Is this how it feels to have a boyfriend? She turned redder still, now acutely aware of his arm round her shoulders. She momentarily thought about pulling away before deciding against it; it was grounding and warm and exactly what she needed right now.

“Right, what’s everyone doing for Christmas?” Harriet asked, her face lighting up.

Adrian groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Here we go…” He muttered, though a chuckle slipped out as Harriet playfully swiped at him. Evelyn raised an eyebrow at him, silently asking what was going on.

“My dear sister is obsessed with Christmas, just like our mum. Can you believe we’ve been sent three owls about the decorations alone?” Alaric shared a sympathetic look with his friend.

“I’ll be in France with my parents and Céleste as usual.” Alaric commented. 

“Who’s Céleste?” Evelyn asked, perking up.

“My older sister. My mother’s French, hence her name.” Alaric explained, grinning easily.

Evelyn’s mouth formed a small ‘o’, and she felt an embarrassed flush creep up her neck. “I had no idea that you have a sister, or that your mother is from France. Can you speak French?” She looked at him, suddenly aware of how little she knew about his life - and feeling a little guilty for it.

“Tu sais, tu es vraiment la plus belle fille que j’aie jamais rencontrée… et je ne dis pas ça à n’importe qui.”

“Ooh!” Adrian chimed, wiggling his eyebrows in jest. Clearly he and Harriet could understand what Alaric was saying, although Evelyn remained none the wiser.

“I’m very impressed.” She admitted softly. She definitely liked it when Alaric spoke French - she’d have to get him to speak more…maybe he could teach her?

“Yeah, my grandmother lives in this wonderful little Wizarding village near the sea. She always insists on these enormous, over-the-top dinners. You can smell the food half a mile away…” Alaric had a soft grin on his face as he reminisced, and Evelyn could certainly envision the scene.

“That sounds wonderful.” She said wistfully.

“So what about you, Evie? What’re your Christmas plans?” Harriet asked conversationally.

Evelyn started to idly trace circles on the table. “Probably spend it with my aunt. She’ll try - she always does - but she’s a terrible cook.” The warmth of the group dimmed a little bit, Evelyn’s lack of enthusiasm apparent.

“Well,” Adrian leaned forward suddenly, brightening the air with his usual energy, “if you ever find yourself getting too bored, owl us. We can send you some of mum’s treacle fudge - best in England!” He boasted.

“Oi, you better be bringing some of that back regardless!” Alaric joked. “Or you could always come to France, my grandmother has a large table.” He said it half in jest, half serious, his eyes soft.

Evelyn chuckled, though her chest warmed at the offer. “I’ll keep it all in mind, thank you.”

Adrian leaned back, smirking as a thought suddenly struck him. “Honestly, I’m shocked you’re not planning to stay here with Riddle.”

Evelyn blinked, completely caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

“Riddle is one of the only students who stays at the castle every Christmas. He’d stay during the summer holidays too if he could. He doesn’t…go home anywhere, not really.” Harriet’s voice was soft as she explained, nearly whispering. Evelyn had to break free from Alaric’s grip so she could lean forwards to hear properly.

“Why?“

For once, Adrian’s voice dropped its teasing edge. “He doesn’t have one. Riddle is an orphan. Has been as long as he’s been at Hogwarts.”

“Oh.” The silence that settled after Adrian’s statement was heavy. Harriet returned to her long-forgotten Arithmancy homework, whilst Alaric and Adrian spoke quietly to each other.

Everything slotted into place with a dull click: Tom’s coldness, his aversion to touch, the careful distance he kept even when they were alone…Evelyn felt a pang of something she couldn’t quite name - pity, perhaps, or something heavier that sunk into her chest. She had thought his standoffishness was deliberate, but clearly it had roots far deeper than the small frustrations she experienced.

How strange to feel such warmth towards someone who barely lets anyone in. Evelyn mused, her eyes glossed over as she stared unseeingly at the same page she’d opened upon sitting down. He’d never had a fair start at life - he’d lost it all before he’d even had a chance.

Is it even possible to reach him? She reflected on the small victories she’d had with Tom, and the fragile but very real friendship they’d delicately woven together. She already had reached him in some small way, and determination bloomed in her chest to continue bridging the gap between them.

For the first time, Evelyn felt like she might actually begin to understand Tom Riddle.

The courtyard air was sharp and cold, nipping at Evelyn’s cheeks as soon she set foot outside. Tom was already leaning against the wall, composed as ever, looking incredibly handsome in the moonlight.

“Hello Tom.” She greeted warmly, falling into step easily beside him. She couldn’t help as her gaze lingered, admiring how dashing he looked against the emerald green of his scarf. It felt almost painful how good looking he was.

They walked in companionable silence, no real destination in mind. Their arms brushed once or twice as they turned towards the Black Lake, a common spot for evening walks. Evelyn resisted the urge to thread her hand through the crook of his elbow.

“You can definitely tell it’s nearly Christmas. It’s all anyone seems to be talking about at the moment - especially Harriet. Turns out she’s obsessed, something I wasn’t prepared for.” Evelyn broke the silence with easy chatter, gearing herself up to broach the topic of Christmas with Tom. She glanced at him sidelong, her voice deceptively casual. “Do you like it?”

“Like what?” Tom asked, no bite in his voice. It was the lightest she’d ever heard him. Feeling brave, she lightly clasped his arm, waiting to see if he would throw her off. Tom didn’t react, instead continuing his steady pace. Evelyn’s hand settled more firmly, her stomach performing somersaults.

“Christmas…all of it.” She gave a little shrug.

Tom’s eyes flicked to hers, startlingly unguarded, before returning to the path. “It’s an overindulgent tradition. People place far too much stock in it.”

“I suppose it depends on who you spend it with.” They came to a stop by the lakes edge, both staring out into the inky blackness. “My aunt does her best, but I imagine it’s not quite the same as having parents and siblings. We have a rather…formal relationship, so I’ve never really enjoyed Christmas that much.”

There was the faintest tightening in his jaw, but he said nothing in response.

Evelyn hesitated - at this point she would usually stop prodding, respecting Tom’s refusal to dive deeper into a topic. But she turned her head to face him, her voice softening.

“It must be different for you too…staying here whilst everyone else goes.” This earned her a sharper glance. It wasn’t exactly angry, but he wasn’t happy with the direction she was taking the conversation.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Oh Tom. She despaired, forcing herself to stay quiet this time. The words she wanted to say - it does matter, you matter - died on her lips, warm yet unspoken. They started to walk again, their footsteps crunching faintly on the frosted ground. She didn’t want to say anything that would cause him to retreat further.

At last, Tom spoke quietly, as if he were talking to himself . “It’s easier to stay here. Hogwarts is home .”

“Easier?” Evelyn questioned, surprised he’d offered her anything at all.

“There is no false cheer, no obligations, no…comparisons. The castle doesn’t ask anything of me.”

Evelyn considered what he said, not rushing to speak. “That sounds lonely.” She settled on.

“Lonely is a matter of perspective.” Tom replied coolly. Her eyes searched his face, wishing she could untangle him - wishing he would let her - and she sighed, a puff of air escaping her lips.

They looped around a few more times, speaking of easier topics. Well, Evelyn spoke, Tom mainly listening and offering his point of view when he felt it necessary. They continued to walk, wandering back into Hogwarts and towards their common room.

“You ask too many questions.” He announced suddenly, his voice low and deliberate.

“And you answer too few.” Evelyn replied, an easy smile on her lips. They paused at the bottom of the dormitory staircase, a strand of hair twirling in-between her fingers.

He studied her for a moment longer before turning away and heading up the stairs. “Seven o’clock tomorrow.” He said, not looking back.

Evelyn stared after him, feeling quietly pleased with herself.

Evelyn stared at the letter she held in her hand, nerves gnawing away at her. The idea had planted itself the night before during her walk with Tom: the thought of staying at Hogwarts for Christmas. At first, it had been dismissed immediately - her aunt would be expecting her home, and the halls would feel eerily empty without her friends around.

But the more she thought about it, the more the possibility drew her in. Tom would be here, moving through the castle alone, and for some reason she couldn’t bear that thought.

We can just about call ourselves friends, and I hardly understand him…and yet I’m willing to spend Christmas with him? Evelyn shook her head, the letter crinkling under the force of her grip.

Still, the idea burrowed deeper; the twins, Alaric, even Rosier and the others would be gone, and neither her nor Tom would have their usual distractions…maybe it would be peaceful, perhaps even nice?

She thought about her aunt, Elizabeth, but found that she didn’t feel particularly strongly one way or another. Of course she loved her, and she was loved in return, but they had never really experienced a true closeness or warmth, their relationship forever stained with the death of her parents.

Before she could second-guess herself further, she attached her letter to a nearby owl and watched as it lifted into the air, her message tied safely to his leg. By nightfall, her aunt would be aware of her plans to stay at Hogwarts.

Chapter Text

Orbit

Birds chirped in the crisp morning air as Evelyn approached the stone bench near the Herbology Greenhouses. The sun caught the dew on the leaves, making the world shimmer in gold and green. For a moment, she drank in the sight, feeling incredibly peaceful. Her thoughts drifted over to the letter she had sent the night before - surely her aunt had received it by now? There had been no owl swooping in with her response that morning, and Evelyn wasn’t sure if she felt more relieved or frustrated at the lack of response.

She rounded the corner and spotted Alaric, the snitch he tossed fluttering lazily in his hand. But today, something was different. The morning light caught his hair, almost creating a golden halo around his head. The sun made him look impossibly good. His green eyes flicked to hers, steady and intense, and despite her best efforts her heart gave a lurch.

He wasn’t Tom Riddle, but for a heartbeat, she caught herself thinking he might be just as impossible to look away from.

“Finally.” He said softly, patting the space beside him. Evelyn slid into place, noting the unusual quiet that hung around them. He didn’t toss the snitch again, instead stuffing it away in his pocket.

“Good morning, Alaric. No twins yet?” Evelyn asked softly. She was almost afraid to speak too loudly in case she upset the moment.

“No.” He muttered in reply. They sat in silence for a few minutes more, Alaric decidedly looking anywhere but at the witch next to him. Finally, he turned towards her with a determined look on his face. He hesitated, then started to slowly lean forwards.

She froze, heart hammering, unable to look away from him. His gaze lingered on her with a precision that made her stomach twist, before his eyes slowly drifted to her lips, drawing her attention like a magnet.

Inch by inch, the space between them shortened. Evelyn could feel the warmth radiating from him, close enough to ignite a shiver she didn’t want to name. He lifted his hand, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his touch light but deliberate.

And then, just as before in the common room, his lips brushed against hers - brief and almost teasing in its delicacy. For a moment she wondered if she should pull back…or lean the tiniest bit forward. There was a flicker of curiosity - What would it feel like to really kiss him? - before instinct and disbelief won over.

She shifted back, her breathing shallow as she stared at him, cheeks red.

Alaric rested his hand against her neck, assessing her. Every attempt Evelyn made at gathering her thoughts failed. All she could do was blink, her lips still tingling. Slowly, Alaric withdrew his hand, letting the tension ebb just enough for her to feel like she could breathe again.

“What in the world?” Evelyn murmured, voice hushed and slightly dazed.

Alaric remained silent, jiggling his leg - a small, nervous tic that contrasted sharply with his usual confidence.

“You did this before,” Evelyn pressed, clarity cutting through the haze in her mind, “why?”

He shrugged, leaning back against the tree the bench was pressed against. His eyes locked on hers, something soft and hesitant behind them.

“Maybe I like seeing you flustered.” He said at last. She was pleased to see he was also blushing now, the reality of his actions hitting him.

“That’s not an answer.” Evelyn responded softly, folding her hands in her lap.

He shrugged again. “Maybe I don’t have one you’ll want to hear.” She felt unsettled by the seriousness that had crept into his tone. Her mouth opened and then closed. Nothing came out. She stared at a small stone and kicked it away, her stomach twisting as if butterflies were performing somersaults inside her.

She shyly glanced at him only to see that he was already watching her, heat surging to her cheeks. His shoulder nudged hers playfully. 

“One look at that blush and I’m undone.” He teased, tentatively easing them back into more familiar territory.

Evelyn forced herself to roll her eyes, even though her heart was still hammering away.

“You don’t get undone , Alaric. You seem to have a hobby of undoing people.”

“Not people, just you.” His response came swiftly, soft and deliberate.

Evelyn’s chest tightened, an unfamiliar knot of unease appearing. She couldn’t quite name it, only that something felt…off. For a fleeting moment, her thoughts darted to Tom, and a small pang of guilt prickled at her - but why, she wasn’t sure. That was a puzzle she would have to solve once she was alone.

“Alaric…I don’t understand what this is. You don’t -”

“Don’t what?” He challenged, his voice stripped of its usual playfulness. “Don’t mean it? Don’t want it?”

Her thoughts tangled as she tried to understand how she was feeling, and more importantly what Alaric actually wanted from her. She didn’t know how to handle him when he was like this - serious and unsmiling. He unflinchingly held her gaze, as though he was daring her to call him a liar.

“Hey!” Adrian’s carefree call broke through the atmosphere like a whip, and they retreated from each other's presence, an easy grin automatically slipping onto Alaric’s face. Only Evelyn could spot the subtle tenseness to his shoulders.

Evelyn couldn’t help but admire how bright and cosy the Hufflepuff common room was.

She hadn’t had time to linger, sneaking straight up to Harriet's dormitory, but she’d caught the soft yellow hues and various plants dotted around. It was a sharp contrast to the dramatic angles and lighting of the Slytherin common room, and much more relaxing.

They had left the boys to play Quidditch with each other, instead opting to go indoors where it wasn’t so cold. Eventually they found themselves plotting on how Evelyn could sneak into the Hufflepuff girls’ dormitory so they could relax together. 

They had become absorbed in their respective books for a time, the silence only punctuated by Evelyn’s occasional sighs.

“What’s bothering you, Evie?” At first Harriet hadn’t paid any attention, but after the fifth one it became clear something was bothering her friend. Harriet flicked her wand, drawing the bed curtains shut to afford them some privacy.

Chewing her lip, Evelyn weighed the risk of finally saying it out loud to someone. Harriet merely waited, a calm and trustworthy presence. She had a way of coaxing out people’s thoughts, and Evelyn eventually found herself speaking.

“It’s Alaric.” She said at last.

“Go on.” Harriet encouraged, her voice soft.

Evelyn straightened up, suddenly feeling a weight lifting as she spoke.

“Well, he’s always been openly affectionate with me - I mean he is with everyone, but it’s always felt a little different.” Harriet nodded encouragingly, letting her friend speak without interruption. “It’s flirtatious, for lack of a better word. I’ve always thought he was joking, but this morning -”

“Something happened?” Harriet prompted. She had noticed how awkward the pair had been at the greenhouses. For the rest of the morning, Alaric had seemed slightly off; Adrian had remained oblivious, but Harriet had been friends with the boy for years , she could tell when something was eating away at him.

“I don’t think it really counts as a kiss, but it’s the second time he’s done it. Sort of - lightly brushed lips, I guess.” Evelyn fidgeted, unable to meet her friend's eyes.

“Twice?” Harriet hummed, looking up thoughtfully.

“I don’t understand what he’s doing, or how I’m supposed to feel about it.”

Harriet smiled sympathetically, very much aware that Evelyn had little to no experience with the opposite sex before coming to Hogwarts.

“Alaric has always been bold, but with you…” She tapped her index finger against her cheek.

“He was so serious earlier as well, no trace of teasing whatsoever.” Evelyn confided. She knew Harriet would appreciate how out of character that was for their friend.

“That doesn’t sound like Alaric just being Alaric . It sounds like he’s being serious - I think he does genuinely have feelings for you - more than just a crush. But the question is less about what he’s doing, and more about what you want.”

“What I want?” Evelyn questioned.

“Well…” Harriet hesitated, wringing her hands together. “Do you like him?”

“I’m not sure. I think I very easily could if not for -” She paused, ears burning hot.

“…If not for Tom?” Harriet finished gently.

Evelyn groaned and flopped onto her back, letting Harriet’s quiet giggle wash away some of the tension she held.

“It’s not really like that. I don’t fancy him - honestly. There’s just something about him that pulls me in. He’s impossible, and half the time he drives me mad, but I keep ending up back in his orbit.”

“It sounds less like attraction and more like gravity.”

“What does that even mean?” Evelyn complained good-naturedly, finally allowing herself to smile.

“It means Tom Riddle will always pull people toward him. That’s who he is. But being pulled isn’t the same as choosing to move. You have a choice, Evie, don’t mistake being drawn in for you wanting to stay there.”

The girls allowed silence to settle, both of them distracted by their own thoughts.

“Wise as ever, Harriet. You really do come out with some sound advice. Thank you.” Evelyn was sincere as usual. “I’m going to speak to Alaric, it’s not fair to leave him hanging. I’m clearly not ready to investigate starting a relationship - I just hope he’ll be okay with that.”

“Of course he will.” Harriet confirmed. “Thank you for not stringing him along, Evelyn. He’s like a brother to me…maybe one day it’ll happen for you two.” The girls embraced, both feeling good after their brief chat.

“Although we do need to talk about you and Nott.” Evelyn teased. Harriet let out a burst of laughter and hit her with a pillow.

“Well, if we must…” She feigned being put upon, but they spent the next hour chatting happily away as girls do, the intensity of that morning gone.

The rest of the classes passed in a blur for Evelyn. She drifted through each lesson, her mind rehearsing the conversation she might have with Alaric over and over, picturing every possible outcome and how it could go wrong. She traced each word in her mind, weighing them carefully, but the scenarios never offered any comfort.

If Tom weren’t in the picture, perhaps she could have allowed herself to explore where things might go with Alaric. But with him around - so intense and constantly present - her thoughts were conflicting, with each feeling pulling in a different direction. Something about the situation didn’t sit right, no matter what angle she approached it from.

She owed it to herself to be honest, and she owed it to Alaric too. Pretending, hiding her uncertainty, or indulging in half-measured flirtations would only make matters worse. She vowed that as soon as Transfiguration was finished, she would speak to him.

Tom, meanwhile, had noticed that something was different straight away. He sat upright, his eyes trained forward, but he couldn’t help as his attention would occasionally drift over to Evelyn. She seemed distracted, her usual brightness dimmed, barely sparing him a glance.

It would have irritated him under different circumstances, if not for the fact that Alaric was receiving similar - if not worse - treatment. Evelyn hadn’t looked at him once, and he hadn’t tried to engage her in conversation either. Tom frowned, trying to pinpoint the cause. Not that he particularly cared about teenage trivialities…but when it came to Evelyn? Well, perhaps he couldn’t help himself.

He didn’t like being kept in the dark, especially when it involved the witch sitting next to him. A low hum of frustration pressed at the edges of his thoughts. He wanted to know what had gone wrong, wanted to understand why she was so distracted, and most importantly why Alaric - of all people - seemed to have upset her.

He wouldn’t let his questions go unanswered.

Evelyn lingered in front of her dorm-room mirror, fingers fussing over the neat line of her tie and the fall of her skirt. She battled unsuccessfully with a stubborn lock of hair that refused to stay in place. It wasn’t really about the uniform or her hair, she knew that. It was about stalling, to find any excuse to delay her conversation with Alaric.

You can’t hide up here forever. She scolded herself. Her reflection stared back at her, betraying the nervous spark in her eyes. No amount of smoothing or straightening could disguise the truth: she was hesitating. Again.

Suddenly, Isabelle breezed into the room, startling Evelyn. She rummaged in her trunk, found something, and then left without a glance or a word spared. Thankfully, the rest of the girls had returned to their usual indifference, though every now and then Evelyn was on the receiving end of a fleeting glare. Even that small reminder of their judgment felt easier to handle than the thought of what awaited with Alaric.

No time like the present, Evie. Squaring her shoulders, she nodded to herself and marched down the stairs. She spotted Alaric instantly; he was sitting and quietly joking with Samuel and another boy. Evelyn cleared her throat politely to catch his attention.

“Hi Alaric,” She smiled at the other two in greeting as well, “I thought you might like to join me in playing a game of chess?” Alaric blinked, a little confused if not intrigued. He shared a glance with his friends before shrugging easily, a tight smile gracing his face.

“Sure.” He followed Evelyn over to the chessboard tucked against the window, sitting heavily in the chair. They both missed the easy and light laughter they usually shared. They started to play in silence, Evelyn too nervous to speak. Her eyes darted up, momentarily making eye contact with Alaric.

“Thanks for agreeing to play with me.” She murmured quietly, smiling shyly at him. She caught the light crinkle at the corner of his eyes as he smiled back, a bit flat, but a smile nonetheless. She felt the knot in her chest loosen slightly - Alaric was one of her best friends, of course she could talk to him.

“I thought we could talk.” She continued, not breaking eye contact as he studied her.

Curiosity and a spark of hope lit up his eyes. “Talk? About what?”

Steady Evelyn.

Evelyn moved her knight, hesitating. “About us?” She stumbled over the phrasing, blushing from embarrassment.

“Oh?” Alaric raised an eyebrow, a teasing lilt to his voice. Evelyn’s stomach dropped - he was hopeful. She nearly went back on what she was going to say in the face of his easy smile, but she knew it wouldn’t be fair to him.

“I’m not ready to think about relationships right now.” She sighed, eyes dropping to the chess pieces. His hand stilled as she spoke.

“Oh,” There was a pause, then his voice hardened slightly, “because of Tom ?” He spat his name like it was a curse. Evelyn glanced up, guilt flitting across her face.

She immediately reached her hand out, but Alaric shifted slightly out of reach, and for some reason that hurt Evelyn more than she cared to admit.

“Alaric - I don’t want this to turn into an argument. I care about you, I really do, but I just can’t give you what you want right now.”

He snorted, bitter and starting to lash out. “Is this why you dragged me into a game of chess? To soften rejection with…what? Strategy ? I thought we had something, Evie.”

“We do! I mean, you’re my best friend - I love you, just not the way you want me to. Not right now.”

Hurt flashed across his face, constricting Evelyn’s heart. “Can’t…or won’t?”

She hesitated, the chess game long since forgotten. “Can’t,” She whispered, “I wish I could.”

He reluctantly sighed, “Whatever, Evie. Chess it is then.”

They continued to play in silence, more for something to do rather than enjoyment. Alaric was clearly hurt, and Evelyn felt overwhelmed with guilt. His movements were slow and unenthusiastic, his disappointment evident.

She wanted to say something, anything, to ease the tension - but the words felt small and inadequate, trapped behind the lump in her throat. Every time she glanced at him, she caught the faintest flinch in his shoulders, or the tight line of his jaw, and she felt terrible for it.

From across the room, Tom Riddle’s eyes hadn’t left the pair once. He didn’t move immediately, nor did he interrupt. He simply watched, taking in Blackwood’s stiff posture and how Evelyn looked positively miserable, the tension vibrating between them like a visible current.

After a moment, he rose and walked over. His steps were silent but deliberate, carrying that quiet authority that made people shift unconsciously in his presence. He stopped a pace behind Evelyn, eyes scanning the chessboard with a hint of judgement.

“Evelyn.” He said calmly. Just the sound of her name in that tone made her nearly collapse from relief. “We have work to finish. Now.”

Alaric’s head snapped up, a frown crossing his face. “Work? What work?” His voice was sharp with suspicion. He didn’t think it was possible for his mood to sour any further, but of course, Tom bloody Riddle had to show up.

Tom didn’t even glance at him. He extended a hand toward Evelyn, not as a question but as a directive.

“Evelyn.” His voice was so firm that she found herself standing up almost instantly. She let Tom guide her away from the chessboard, away from Alaric’s hurt, and ultimately away from the entire situation.

They walked leisurely through the dungeons, Evelyn gnawing on her lip as she started to replay the conversation. Tom didn’t speak immediately. He merely glanced at her, an almost imperceptible question in his calm, dark eyes. She could feel the subtle weight of his presence, and she nearly leaned into him for comfort.

“Thank you.” Was all she said.

Tom inclined his head slightly, expression unreadable. He didn’t ask what had happened, not yet, instead choosing to lead her to an abandoned classroom only ever used by him and his followers .

“Sit.” He said, motioning to a nearby chair. His tone was as flat and controlled as ever, although Evelyn could tell that that was an order, not a request.

She obeyed.

Tom stood for a moment, assessing her. “You’ve been distracted. Explain.” Evelyn withheld a laugh - if there was one thing she could rely on, it was Tom Riddle’s bluntness in certain situations.

“Well,” She sighed, wondering where to start, “It’s a little bit complicated.”

Tom raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Complicated isn't an answer. Not to me.” He moved forward and perched on the unused desk next to her, forcing Evelyn to look up at him.

“Alaric made his feelings towards me known. He…um…” She blushed, unable to admit their sort-of kiss to Tom.

Tom was silent, his face darkening considerably. “Did he touch you?”

“No,” Evelyn hastily supplied, grateful when his shoulders loosened slightly, “I let him down gently, but he didn’t take it well.”

Tom remained silent, his jaw clenched. He didn’t raise his voice or show any overt anger, but his displeasure was blatantly obvious to Evelyn.

“You did the right thing.” He finally said, knuckles white against the table. He leaned towards Evelyn slightly, his voice low and cold. His gaze sharpened, the air around him growing chilly. “Understand this; I will not tolerate anyone crossing a line with you. Not Blackwood. No one .”

Evelyn fiddled with her uniform sleeve, pausing for a moment. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that statement - was it meant to be reassuring? She let him have a small smile, she supposed it was Tom’s way of comforting her.

“I know. Thank you.”

“If Blackwood’s behaviour continues to… distract you, you will tell me.” Tom commanded, leaning back. The intensity of the moment passed, and he seemed a little more himself. Still cold, but without the crackle of violence underneath.

Evelyn squeezed his hand, feeling touched at his continued concern. He restrained his grimace at the touch, instead keeping his eyes locked with hers.

“I think he just needs some time - he’s one of my best friends. We can move past this.” She paused and sent him a mischievous smile. “Don’t worry Tom, I’m not distracted. I know you’d feel lost without me around, disrupting your routine with my drama.”

An actual smile, albeit small, graced his face. Evelyn stared, momentarily stunned. When he genuinely smiled he looked transformed - less the composed, guarded Tom everyone else knew, and more like a boy her age with warmth and light in him. It softened the sharp lines of his face and made him striking in a different way. Normally, his handsomeness was carved in precision: the kind you noticed in the tilt of his jaw or the stillness of his expression. But with a smile? He was disarming. Human…and beautiful in a way that felt unfairly rare.

“Lost? That would be an overstatement. Mildly inconvenienced, perhaps.”

Evelyn blinked back into reality, blushing. She hoped he hadn’t noticed her staring. “Oh, come on. Admit it - you’d miss me.”

“I’d adjust,” He replied smoothly, “I always do.”

“You’d be bored out of your mind. Without me, you’d have nothing to keep you occupied in-between classes.”

“I’d manage well enough. I did so before you arrived.”

Evelyn arched a brow. “Oh, really? Sitting alone with your books, brooding in a corner - that’s what you call managing? Sounds thrilling.”

“That’s me exercising remarkable patience, enduring Dolohov’s presence as long as I have.” He shot back, his tone bordering on being playful.

Evelyn laughed freely, her smile was back, bigger than ever. “Well then, lucky you’ve had all that practice. Think of how patient you’ll be with everyone else.”

Tom’s eyes glinted, cool and calculating. “I don’t need patience with anyone else. They don’t matter.” His gaze lingered on her.

No one else matters but you.

Evelyn blushed, her stomach twisting pleasantly. She giggled, shaking her head. “Honestly, Tom, sometimes you’re impossible.”

His lips twisted into a smirk, the type where it was hard to tell whether he was amused or pleased with himself. They eased into an easy silence, both occupied with their own thoughts.

Here I am, in Tom Riddle’s orbit again. She thought, sneaking a peek at him. She thought back to the sharp edge of his words earlier - they still clung to her in a way that was oddly steadying. He had seen her floundering at the chess table, and in his own strange way he had stepped in and caught her.

A lump formed in her throat - what had she done to deserve such a friend? She thought about Alaric, Adrian, and Harriet, and she felt overwhelmed by a surge of affection for all of them.

“Thank you for being here.” She murmured, the sincerity of her words even caught her by surprise.

Tom seemed momentarily without words, and before she could second-guess herself, Evelyn stood up and hugged him. For a heartbeat he went rigid - just as he had the last time she dared to hug him - and she felt a twist of regret for making him uncomfortable again. But then, almost imperceptibly, he relaxed.

His hands remained clenched, but he didn’t push her away, and in Evelyn’s book that counted as a win. He didn’t return the hug, but he allowed her to hold him until he no longer felt like a stone statue brought to life beneath her arms.

Evelyn pulled back, cheeks warming. “Sorry…it’s just that you’ve been kinder than I deserved today.” Tom’s expression was unreadable, a dozen replies played out in the twitching of his lips.

“Don’t make a habit out of it.” His voice lacked any bite, and the moment left Evelyn feeling light. He cast tempus, eyes sliding back to look at her. “I believe we said we’d take a walk at seven?” Ecstatic, Evelyn nodded and followed him out of the dungeons.

It was an acceptable way to end an emotionally charged day.

The following day found Harriet, Adrian, Alaric, and Evelyn sitting at a quiet corner table in one of the castle’s breakout study areas. Books lay open but forgotten, the air between them thick with unspoken tension. Alaric and Evelyn sat next to each other, their silence sharp enough that even the scratch of a quill felt too loud. The twins exchanged a knowing glance, an entire conversation passing in a second, before Harriet finally cleared her throat.

“Alright, this is getting a bit silly now. You two have been tiptoeing around each other all day. It’s…exhausting to watch.”

Alaric glanced at her, an eyebrow raised. “And you’re here to mediate because…?”

“Because I care.” She replied gently. “Evie, Alaric. You’re best friends first and foremost. No matter what else happens…that’s a bond nothing should ever be able to break.”

Evelyn and Alaric shared a look, eyes darting away as soon as they met.

“Trust me, it’s very painful to watch.” Adrian chimed, pretending to look bored. “Look, you both clearly care about each other -”

“- And we care about both of you -” Harriet added.

“- So stop pretending it’s some duel to the death and just say something to each other!” He finished, his frustration finally breaking through.  “Merlin, you two are exhausting.”

Alaric’s jaw tightened. He drummed his fingers on the tabletop for a beat before muttering, “Fine.” He leaned back, crossing his arms. “Something. Happy now?”

Adrian groaned again and let his head flop dramatically into his hands. “Oh, brilliant. Riveting. ”

But Evelyn had already turned to face Alaric, her expression softening in the way that meant she had considered her words carefully.. “Listen…” Her voice was low, careful. “I’m sorry, Alaric. I didn’t mean to - ”

He raised his hand, stopping her mid-sentence. For a moment he glanced at her, then away, speaking as if the words cost him something. “I’m sorry, Evie. I made it…weird. How I feel is my business, and I do respect where you’re at. I just - ” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I didn’t handle it the way I should have in the moment.”

Before she could respond he reached out, dragging her chair closer until it bumped against his. Evelyn let out a startled laugh, but any protest died the second he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Finally.” Adrian muttered, high-fiving his sister.

Alaric smiled, his teasing grin which had been missing for so long finally returning.

“You know where I am… though I might be hard to resist if you come looking.” The group shared a laugh, and Evelyn felt at peace. Everything had been restored back to normal.

After their group study session, Evelyn walked Alaric to the Quidditch pitch to drop him off for practice.

“We’ll need a rematch of our wizards chess game, you know.” Alaric joked, arm secured firmly around Evelyn. His touch was warm and possessive in a way that was almost overcompensating for the time they’d spent apart.

“Oh really? Because I would have actually won if we’d finished the match?” Evelyn teased.

“You definitely wouldn’t have.” He smirked. “I’ll see you later, Evie.” He released her with a squeeze before striding down to the pitch, Evelyn watching him go. She turned and saw Tom and his group walking in the distance towards the castle.

Of course Tom already saw me. She mused, lifting her hand to wave tentatively. He nodded his head, with Avery and Nott calling out a greeting as they passed.

She didn’t rush to join them though; instead she headed to the Owlery, a sheet of parchment folded neatly in her pocket. She had been thinking about Christmas, uncertain on whether she would get Tom a present or not.

Would he appreciate it? Would it be a step too far? She knew him well enough to suspect he wouldn’t enjoy something overly sentimental, but she wanted to get him something thoughtful, something that spoke to him without feeling intrusive.

After staying up late and agonising over various options, an idea finally settled in her mind; she would get him something practical that fit his meticulous nature. It wasn’t grand or showy, but it carried meaning, and she knew he would understand that. With a determined breath, she had drafted her order, making sure to stress that it was for someone important.

She just hoped Tom would love it.

Once that was done, Evelyn had turned her thoughts to the others. Alaric, Adrian, Harriet… each of them deserved something that showed how much they meant to her. The ideas had come quickly, each one making her smile as she scribbled down the details and sealed the parchment. 

For the first time in a long time, Evelyn felt excited for Christmas.

Tom noticed with a slow-burning ire, that Evelyn and Blackwood had rekindled their friendship. The golden-haired boy had returned with renewed intensity, almost a fixture at her side in the days following their rift. Whether it was an arm slung casually around her shoulders or some other easy touch, Blackwood seemed determined to claim a place that had never belonged to him from the start.

So for the rest of the week, Tom kept his distance.

Not in the way most people did - skulking or avoiding eye contact - but in a way that made it seem entirely deliberate. He was still present in the common room, still at meals, still passing Evelyn in the corridors, but he didn’t call her away or insert himself into her conversations.

If she wanted to sit with Blackwood, he let her.

It was strategic. Appear too controlling, and she’d notice. Give her rope, and she’d wander - but never far. She didn’t yet realise the subtle ways he kept the line taut. Tom made sure he was always within ear shot when he needed to be, such as one evening when they were sat in the common room looking slightly too cosy for his liking.

He had listened to their conversation, enough to catalogue each word and decide that it was of no consequence, before he continued on his way, ignoring how Evelyn’s eyes followed him questioningly.

Let her enjoy herself. He thought viciously. The more comfortable she was, the easier it would be to pull the rug from beneath her feet when the time came.

Another evening in the common room found Evelyn passing him on her way upstairs. “You haven’t dragged me away to complete any mysterious ‘work’ in a while.” She joked lightly.

Tom looked up from his book, expression unreadable. “Why would I?”

She hesitated. “…No reason.”

He allowed the faintest flicker of a smile to touch his lips before lowering his gaze back to the page.

It was important, after all, to remind her she still had a choice - so that when she began choosing him, she’d think it was hers to make.

Chapter Text

Revelry 

Evelyn walked through the Slytherin common room, books tucked beneath her arm as she made for the library. For a weekday evening, it seemed to be unusually lively. Even her dorm-mates who were usually so composed had an air of palpable excitement about them as they gossiped by a window. Snippets of their conversation floated over, and Evelyn slowed to listen in.

“I can’t wait for the party…”

“ - Have you got your outfit sorted?”

“Amos Bigsby looks good this year, maybe I’ll try…”

Party? What party? Evelyn’s brow furrowed, a spike of anxiety running through her. Had everyone been invited to a party except for her? She swallowed, suddenly feeling a little out of place. She decided she’d talk to Tom once she was with him - for someone who kept to himself, he seemed to know an awful lot about the castle's comings and goings.

Tom had been slightly distant over the past few days, lingering within her line of sight but deliberately just out of reach. She was certain she hadn’t done anything to upset him, although it actually seemed like he was giving her space as things settled with Alaric - a surprisingly considerate and mature gesture, given their shared tensions.

She missed him more than she had expected. Alaric had occupied most of her time since their small falling out, and whilst she valued those moments, a small part of her was looking forward to some one-on-one time with the prefect.

Evelyn reached the library, her spirits lifting at the sight of her friend. Tom was furiously scribbling away in his neat, slanting handwriting, a small frown on his face as he concentrated.

“Tom.” She smiled warmly, feeling right at home as she slid into her usual seat.

“Evelyn.” He acknowledged her without looking up, his quill continuing to scratch across his parchment. Two neatly filled pages of his Charms essay already lay stacked beside him.

Evelyn pulled out her own work - one lone sheet - and tried to focus, though she kept glancing at Tom. Her fingers drummed restlessly against the table until at last, he set his quill down with a faint sigh.

“What is it?” He asked, voice clipped.

She laughed softly. “Sorry. I just can’t concentrate. Everyone was talking about some sort of party as I was leaving the common room. Do you know anything about it?”

“Alphard and Lucien throw one every year in the Slytherin common room, usually the weekend before Christmas. That’s all.” He didn’t look up as he said this, his quill steady as it moved across the page.

Evelyn watched as he worked, his words lingering in her mind. A party… She’d never been to one before. The idea made her heart flutter in a mixture of excitement and nerves. It sounded like all of Slytherin would be in attendance, although if it was Alphard and Lucien organising it, she couldn’t imagine first, second or third years being invited.

She assumed Alaric would be in attendance, he was the life of the party wherever he went. But would Tom go? She’d spent so much time around him, yet the idea of seeing him in such a wildly different setting left her feeling strangely shy.

“I suppose I’m looking forward to it.” Evelyn said brightly, hoping to draw Tom into conversation.

His expression didn’t shift; his face remained perfectly composed and unreadable as he looked at her. Evelyn tilted her head, studying him when he didn’t respond.

“Do you usually go?” She continued lightly, trying again.

Like drawing blood from a stone. She mused.

Tom’s eyes flicked back to his parchment as if weighing whether the question deserved a response. Finally he said, “On occasion.”

Evelyn leaned forward, curious. “And? Are they worth going to?”

His mouth curved, although it was closer to disdain than amusement. “Depends on what you consider ‘worth it.’ Most of them drink themselves senseless within the first hour. I tend to leave at that point.”

She blinked. “You only go for an hour?” 

“That’s all it takes,” He said evenly, quill poised once more, “appear, let them see you, endure the noise, and slip out before it becomes pathetic.”

Evelyn smirked at Tom’s distaste, of course he would hate parties. “Sounds thrilling.”

Tom’s quill resumed across the parchment. “Hardly. But sometimes it’s useful.”

They worked in silence for a little longer until Evelyn spoke again, hesitating only a moment.

“I’ve never actually gone to a party before,” She admitted, her voice lowering as though it were some great secret, “I must admit, I’m rather excited the more I think about it.”

Tom finally looked up, eyes cool and assessing. “Then I pity you, if this is what counts as your first party.”

Evelyn raised her brows, feigning offence. “That bad?”

“Debauchery dressed up in silk.” Tom said smoothly, leaning back in his chair. “The music will be loud, the laughter louder, and by the end most won’t even remember the evening, or who they’re with. Hardly worth the anticipation.”

“And yet you still go.” She countered, a teasing note in her voice.

He smirked, though it never reached his eyes. “As I said, one must occasionally be seen.”

She studied him for a moment, intrigued. “And you’ll be seen this year?”

“For an hour.” He replied flatly, already turning back to his essay. “After that, the spectacle loses what little value it had.”

Evelyn propped her chin in her hand, a small smile tugging at her lips despite his cynicism. “Then I suppose I’ll have to make the most of the hour that you’ll be attending. Or…you could always stay for the whole evening since I’ll be there.”

Tom looked up from his parchment again, tapping his quill thoughtfully against his chin as though he was thoroughly considering the idea. His expression was perfectly serious.

“No.” He said at last, deadpan. Evelyn laughed, she really did enjoy Tom’s dry sense of humour.

Tilting her head, she feigned a pout. “And here I thought you’d offer to make it memorable for me.” Her eyes sparkled, wondering if Tom would rise to the challenge.

His brows lifted ever so slightly, but the rest of his face remained unreadable. “Careful Evelyn,” He murmured, his tone somewhere between amusement and a light warning, “you might find I take you at your word.”

The corner of her lips curved. “Perhaps I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

Tom paused in his writing, though he didn’t immediately look at her. For a moment, she wondered if he’d ignore her entirely. But then, slowly, his gaze lifted to hers, sharp and unblinking and intense.

“You don’t know what you’d be inviting.” He said softly, the weight behind his words were heavy in a way that she couldn’t quite understand.

Are we…flirting? A small thrill ran through Evelyn, and suddenly she found herself eager to push further, to see how much Tom would tolerate before shutting it down.

She leaned her chin into her palm, undeterred. “Then maybe you should show me.”

Amusement and annoyance flickered in his eyes - but there was something darker there as well. They maintained eye contact for a beat longer.

“I don’t think you’d be able to keep up.” He replied dryly, quill resuming its steady scratch across the parchment as though the conversation had ended.

Evelyn’s smile widened. He hadn’t dismissed her, not really. He’d answered. She settled back in her chair, the thrill of their exchange still buzzing through her.

“Careful, Tom,” She murmured, echoing his own warning back at him, “you might find I take you at your word.”

This time, his hand faltered just slightly over the parchment, and Evelyn caught it. The smallest victory, but a victory nonetheless.

The Great Hall buzzed with a restless energy, the fast approaching Christmas holidays brightening everyone’s spirits. Even the quieter students seemed unable to keep their voices down, laughter and chatter ricocheting off the walls. Above, the bewitched sky mirrored the thick flakes of snow that tumbled lazily past, softening the morning light.

Evelyn and Alaric found themselves joining Adrian and Harriet at their table, the other Hufflepuff’s long since accustomed to their presence. They had barely been seated for more than a minute before Evelyn spoke, a teasing grin on her face.

“I can’t believe you all failed to mention the massive Slytherin Christmas party this weekend!”

Adrian raised an eyebrow. “Oh, the one Nott and…what’s-his-face throw every year?”

“Rosier.” Alaric supplied automatically. He shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry Evie. It’s not a secret - just a yearly tradition. Everyone knows.”

“It didn’t even occur to us that you wouldn’t.” Harriet added kindly.

Evelyn hummed good-naturedly as she spread marmalade on her toast.

“So, are friends allowed to come, or is it strictly Slytherin only?” She asked.

Harriet exchanged a glance with Adrian. “Strictly Slytherin, yes. But…” She leaned in with a mischievous grin, “ you might be able to pull some strings.”

Evelyn’s eyes lit up. “Perhaps! I’ll ask Alphard if you and Adrian can come. It would be wonderful if we could all go together.”

Adrian groaned, his fork paused mid-air dramatically. “You’re relying on Nott’s weird little crush on Harriet, aren’t you?”

Evelyn hid a giggle behind her hand. “Well…out of him and Lucien, he’s most likely to be persuaded, so yes.”

Adrian scowled. “Absolutely not. I don’t like this plan already.”

Harriet laughed, giving him a playful nudge. “Usually it’s you telling me to relax! Don’t worry, I doubt they’d say yes.”

Alaric shook his head, a laugh escaping him. “Evie, if anyone can get these two invited, it’s you. And think about it - imagine all the fun we’ll have!” He turned to face Adrian, “You’ll like my friend Samuel, the Slytherin seeker…he’s great company.”

They fell into easy conversation until it was time to depart for class. They walked amicably towards the Grand Staircase, the two Hufflepuffs heading off to Care of Magical Creatures. Adrian grumbled as they parted ways, muttering something about ridiculous plans, though Evelyn had caught the faint simmer of anticipation in his eyes when it was agreed she would ask Nott if they could come.

“You really think they’ll say yes?” Alaric asked casually, gently guiding Evelyn onto a moving staircase.

“I think so. Alphard seemed to take a shine to Harriet when we watched your Quidditch practice.” Evelyn smiled as she recalled their interactions; she wouldn’t have initially paired those two together, but she could see how Harriet’s warm and sweet personality would suit Alphard down to a T. “I don’t quite understand why Adrian is so against it - not all Slytherin’s are bad, he knows that.”

They paused outside of Defence Against the Dark Arts, Alaric assessing his friend briefly before he spoke.

“Evie…Nott has a reputation.” Alaric began, his voice casual but sharp. “He’s…well, let’s just say he doesn’t go through life ignoring the attention of the girls in our year.” He paused to pointedly look at her, “Between him and Rosier, you can imagine the stories that follow. I understand why Adrian doesn’t like the idea of Nott hanging around her…and if I’m honest, I’m inclined to agree.”

Evelyn’s eyes widened so fast it was almost comical. Scandalised barely covered it.

“ Alaric! ” She exclaimed, her cheeks burning. “You can’t just say things like that!”

Alaric lifted his hands in mock innocence, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I can, and I did. Someone had to be honest with you, sweetheart. I thought it might help you understand Adrian’s point of view.”

Flustered, Evelyn took a small step back, as if putting distance between herself and his bluntness would make it less shocking.

Alphard Nott… a ladies man? She thought, frowning. He was handsome and certainly aware of it, but the idea of him using that deliberately seemed impossible. Was this the same boy who had offered her quiet words of kindness during her lonely first weeks? The same boy who leaned casually against walls, grinning easily - polite and almost thoughtful at times… that Nott? Surely Alaric was exaggerating.

“I’m…shocked.” She managed at last, cheeks red. Her aunt had always been very reserved about matters like this, offering only what she deemed necessary and then leaving it at that. Fidgeting with the strap of her bag, Evelyn felt a curious mix of disbelief and embarrassment. She had never heard anyone speak so openly about such things, yet a small, uneasy thought nagged at her - was everyone else behaving that way behind closed doors, whilst she remained untouched by it all, none the wiser?

Her thoughts jumped to Tom. Could he…? No. Tom Riddle could barely handle a hug, let alone anything like that. She felt a surge of relief. If she wasn’t feeling so taken aback she would have allowed herself to laugh.

Then her gaze flicked to Alaric, who was so confident and effortlessly charming (and not to mention good looking). Her stomach churned. Unlike Tom, there was no doubt in her mind that he wasn’t as innocent as she was.

“Well…” She started to twist a strand of hair around her fingers, “I’m a little more hesitant to encourage them now.”

Alaric’s expression softened, and he reached out briefly, resting a hand lightly on her shoulder. “We’d better get going, we don’t want to keep Professor Merrythought waiting. And there’s still no harm in asking. You’re not setting anyone up, just inviting our best friends along to a party.”

Evelyn nodded, smiling up at him.

“Thanks, Alaric. You go in first - I need a moment for my face to cool down.” They shared a laugh as he turned to stride into class, a joke already dancing on his lips as the door swung open.

She silently hoped she hadn’t revealed just how inexperienced she was.

Evelyn lingered near the doorway, giving Tom a small, encouraging wave. Her eyes met Alaric’s and they exchanged a quick, conspiratorial nod before he left class. Fortunately, Nott had decided to walk off on his own, and so was perfectly positioned for Evelyn to catch his attention.

“Alphard!” She called quietly, catching the edge of his sleeve in the corridor.

“Evelyn.” He greeted, slate grey eyes searching behind her in mild confusion, then settling on her with a faint, amused smile.

It’s just Alphard…nothing has changed. And yet, Alaric’s words about him swirled through her mind. She felt her cheeks warm, suddenly unable to meet his eyes.

“I…um… “ She smoothed her skirt out, suddenly feeling shy.

“Evelyn, breathe . I don’t bite.” He joked, noticing her nerves.

“Sorry.” She breathed, letting her shoulders drop. Evelyn chided herself silently - she knew Alphard well enough, so why was she feeling so nervous? “I was just wondering if Harriet and Adrian might be able to come to the party? I know it’s usually Slytherin only, and it’s rather short notice since it’s tomorrow night, but…” She gave a small, hopeful smile, pretending to bat her eyelashes for added effect.

Nott let out a soft, low laugh, his grey eyes lingering on her in a way that made Evelyn feel  conscious about her rushed appearance that morning. He tilted his head slightly, as if studying artwork, every movement deliberate. “Strictly Slytherin, yes,” He said slowly, his gaze holding hers, “but you have a way of persuading people…how could I possibly say no?”

He offered her a faint, almost teasing wink, and for the first time, Evelyn felt herself caught off guard by how much attention he seemed to be giving her. It wasn’t leering or crude - far from it - but there was focus, and a subtle appreciation in the way he regarded her, as if he were noticing all the small details she hadn’t even thought about; the slight curl of her hair, the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, even the nervous fiddling of her hands.

“Thank you, Alphard!” Evelyn exclaimed, her smile warm enough to light up the corridor. She stepped forward for a brief hug. He looked momentarily surprised but returned it without hesitation, his chin brushing the top of her head.

Evelyn stepped back and regarded him for a moment, gathering courage. “Do you… like Harriet? I noticed you two seemed to get along during practice.”

Alphard’s lips curved into a soft smile, but his eyes flicked away for a fraction of a second. “Harriet’s a lovely girl. Sweet, clever…easy to get along with. That’s all I’ll say on that.”

Evelyn frowned, trying to read between the lines. His answer raised more questions than it answered, but she let it go with a small, airily offered, “I was just curious.”

He leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, eyes darkening for just a moment as he studied her. Then, as if confessing a secret, he said, “You know… I fancied you from the first moment we met, back on the train.”

Evelyn’s mouth formed a tiny, surprised ‘o’. “Really?”

His gaze drifted over her shoulder for a heartbeat. “Before…before Tom,” He added carefully, his voice lowering an octave, “sometimes I wondered - if circumstances had been different, would you have given us a chance?”

Evelyn hesitated, her cheeks pink. Alphard Nott was from a respectable pureblood family, he was handsome, quiet, quick-witted, and taller than most boys she knew, even rivalling Tom. His grey eyes were framed by jet-black hair which complimented his pale skin. Suddenly, Evelyn could see why he had a reputation for his…charms.

Would she have given him a chance? Probably.

“Well… I might have,” Evelyn admitted, her cheeks growing hotter, “although Tom and I aren’t together.” She said it firmly, making sure he understood.

Alphard smirked knowingly. “Perhaps you should try telling him that,” He joked softly, “but… good to know. I was just curious.” He echoed back at her.

He stepped away from the wall and tucked a strand of hair neatly behind her ear. It was gentle, his fingers barely grazing her cheek, a silent acknowledgement of what might have been.

“I’ll convince Lucien for you.” He added, his tone softening. “But you owe me.”

Evelyn’s face lit up, her nerves settling as the moment passed. “Don’t worry, I know. Thank you again.”

They fell into step together, heading toward their next class, the conversation leaving a lingering feeling of something unspoken that neither could name.

Friday rolled around all too quickly, and after a day of classes that Evelyn could barely focus on, she found herself darting into the Hufflepuff girls’ dormitory to get ready for the party.

She perched on the edge of Harriet’s bed, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. She had spent nearly an hour trying to decide what to wear for the Slytherin Christmas party, but nothing felt quite right. Her usual outfits were safe, understated - practical even. This party…it demanded something bolder, but she had no clothes for such an occasion.

The possibility of a party didn’t even cross my mind! She thought miserably, frustrated that Harriet had found it so easy to get ready.

Her friend looked effortlessly composed; she wore a soft pale yellow dress that fell just below her knees. The sleeves were modestly puffed at the shoulders, tapering neatly to her wrists, and a thin belt cinched the waist, giving the dress a gentle yet flattering shape.

Her dark blonde hair was pinned back with a simple comb ( ”A gift from my aunt!” Harriet had exclaimed), a few soft tendrils framing her face. She had kept her makeup understated - just a touch of colour to her lips and a hint of warmth on her cheeks alongside some mascara - but it was enough to highlight her natural features. Harriet’s look was sweet and plain in the best sense: nothing flashy, yet undeniably pretty.

“You look lovely!” Evelyn was unable to hide her admiration. Harriet smiled softly, glancing down at her own dress with a faint blush.

“Thanks,” She said. “I kept it simple whilst still staying true to my house colours, you know?”

“All in an effort to impress Alphard?” Evelyn joked, half-serious as she regarded her friend. There was a tell-tale flare of red on Harriet’s cheeks which was all the response she needed.

The door opened and Margaret Catchlove - one of Harriet’s friends - popped her head in.

“You look absolutely wonderful, Hattie!” She exclaimed, closing the door behind her with a soft click. She glanced over at Evelyn sympathetically, “Still no luck?” She asked kindly.

“Nope,” Evelyn flopped back onto Harriet’s bed, loudly sighing, “I might as well just wear my school uniform at this rate.” She complained.

“Well,” Margaret rummaged inside her trunk, pulling out a folded piece of fabric, “I may have the answer to your problem. This belongs to my older sister…I borrowed it over the holidays.” She confessed, cheeks warming slightly. “I almost forgot I had it. I think it will be perfect for you.”

Evelyn held it up against herself in the mirror; it was an emerald green, silk dress that reached just above her knees. The fabric was gorgeous and shimmered in the light, with a daring neckline that Evelyn had never worn before.

It certainly wasn’t her usual style, but she wasn’t entirely against the idea of turning some heads tonight. Especially since Tom Riddle was going to be there.

“Mother would never let my sister wear this, but I thought I might bring it along in case I got asked out on a date this year…so far, I’ve had no luck. I wouldn’t want it to go to waste. Try it on!” Bolstered by Margaret and Harriet’s gentle encouragement, she changed into the dress.

Her makeup had been soft and natural all day, but inspired by the daring outfit, she decided to take a bolder approach. She brushed her lips with a slightly deeper shade of red than what she’d usually go for, and carefully lined her eyes with eyeliner. It felt unfamiliar, but she loved the result.

“Ta-da!” Finally, Harriet flicked her wand and curled Evelyn’s hair.

Evelyn almost didn’t recognise herself as she stared at her reflection. The dress hugged her frame in a way that left her feeling a little exposed, but a thrillingly elegant manner. The outfit was anything but subtle.

“Is it too much?” Evelyn asked nervously, smoothing out the creases.

“Not at all! Wow, Evie. You’ll have to beat the boys back with a stick!” Harriet joked. Evelyn laughed, pleased with her outfit.

“Thank you so much, Margaret. I’ll be sure to return it to you tomorrow morning.” They briefly hugged - and Evelyn wondered if she’d made another friend - before she and Harriet made their way out of the Hufflepuff common room, aware of the curious eyes following them.

A Hufflepuff had never attended Nott and Rosier’s annual Slytherin party before. Harriet knew that come next week, she and her brother would be the toast of their house, a small, private triumph that added an extra bounce in her step.

“I heard there’s going to be alcohol.” Evelyn whispered conspiratorially.

Harriet nodded, “There always is. You always hear the stories from the other students in the weeks following…though, to actually be part of it…” She trailed off, her eyes staring unseeingly in the distance, lost in a daydream.

“Are you planning on drinking?” Evelyn asked, a hint of nervous excitement in her voice. She’d never really tried alcohol before, except for one stolen sip of her aunt’s red wine when she was thirteen. It had left her more confused than impressed, and she hadn’t bothered trying anything else since.

Harriet hesitated, “I wouldn’t usually…but it can’t hurt to have one butterbeer, surely?” They glanced at each other and giggled, drawing to a stop just outside the Slytherin common room.

“Last minute check!” They scanned each other, searching for any out of place hair or an errant label sticking out of their dresses, before Evelyn took a deep breath and spoke the password.

Tom stood at the back of the room with the practiced detachment of someone who had long since mastered boredom. He had already declined two offered drinks - one from Mulciber, another from Dolohov - both futile attempts to coax him into the ‘festive spirit’.

He nodded politely when an overly-eager seventh year girl had warbled on at him about the song that was playing, and smiled politely when a swirl of students tried to absorb him into their conversation.

Every unwanted interaction felt like sandpaper against his patience.

Tom felt restless and impatient. Where was Evelyn? His eyes flicked over the crowd of students with thinly veiled patience, grimacing as he spotted Rosier cosying up to Vespera Cowley.

The common room door swung open just as his patience seemed to reach its limit, and in stepped Evelyn Bennett, her presence immediately drawing attention. He watched from afar as she moved through the crowd, and he hated himself for the way his chest tightened. She looked…stunning.

Her dress hugged her in all the right places, the deep green offsetting her lightly curled hair and pale skin. Her eyes were striking, the dark blue accentuated by the eyeliner she had used. Just like her first day when she was about to be sorted, only Tom could notice the thin layer of nerves under her confident posture. Each step, each turn of her head and toss of her hair, was committed to memory. Every instinct screamed at him to look away and to stop noticing her, but he couldn’t.

What infuriated him more was the attention she was drawing from everyone else. Many were openly staring, a group of seventh year boys had nudged each other and gestured in her direction - Tom could only imagine the lewd comments they’d be making amongst themselves.

It made something sharp and possessive coil heavily in his chest. Evelyn was his , and yet there she was, dazzling in a room full of people who had no right to even glance her way.

Tom hated the dress - well, he didn’t like her wearing it in public at least. It was daring, bold…provocative. He couldn’t deny that it suited her perfectly though, she was undeniably beautiful. Possessiveness and admiration tangled together uncomfortably as he fought with himself. He hated that he thought she looked so good, he hated how obvious everyone else's staring was, and he hated that she hadn’t come to stand immediately at his side.

Evelyn, meanwhile, was eternally grateful that Harriet had looped their arms together as they searched for their friends. Adrian and Alaric had already seen them, and were swiftly making their way over.

“Well, well, well…look who finally decided to show up!” Adrian joked, holding a butterbeer loosely in one hand. His eyes lingered a fraction too long on Evelyn, and a sudden heat crept up his neck. He quickly looked away, muttering something under his breath, embarrassed at his own lack of composure. Evelyn noticed but was polite enough not to tease him, instead smiling warmly at them both.

“You know we had to be fashionably late.” She teased.

“You both look beautiful.” Alaric said kindly, scooping Evelyn up into a hug. “Especially you.” He murmured in her ear, causing goosebumps to break out across her neck. He twirled her around, eliciting a bubble of carefree laughter.

“Drink?” Adrian asked, summoning two more bottles for them. Evelyn hesitated for a second before she gratefully accepted, Harriet doing the same. She took a tentative sip, pleasantly surprised at how sweet it tasted, almost like a fizzy butterscotch.

“See? Not so bad, is it?” Adrian asked with an amused grin.

“It’s…surprisingly nice.” Evelyn confessed, heavily aware of how Alaric’s arm hadn’t left her waist since he’d spun her round. She glanced over his shoulder and made eye contact with Tom, who was staring at her unblinkingly.

“Excuse me!” Evelyn wriggled her way out and hurried over, warmth blooming in her chest. Tom looked impeccable as usual; his hair was perfectly coiffed, a few loose strands falling into his eyes as he watched her come over. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, with the top button undone. He looked effortlessly handsome, and Evelyn couldn’t tear her eyes away.

“Tom.” She greeted, her voice sounding far more breather than she intended.

“Evelyn.” His voice was low and very controlled, just loud enough for her to hear over the noise of the crowd. His voice was polite as ever, however the way he was looking at her…it made her heart skip a beat and warmth pool in her gut.

Her eyes searched the room for inspiration, for once she didn’t want to settle for silence. “There’s so many people.” Evelyn offered, blushing instantly at how awkward she sounded.

Tom smiled, small and genuine, and Evelyn basked in it.

“Yes.” He said dryly, “although you’d never guess it, with the way everyone is staring at you.”

She glanced around and sure enough, a few heads had turned in her direction. The faint edge to Tom’s words suggested that he found it distasteful.

“I hadn’t noticed.” Evelyn murmured sarcastically, her eyes sparkling.

“Really?” Tom indulged her, openly smirking now, “in a room full of Slytherins, dressed like that…and you hadn’t noticed ?”

“Well, let’s say that I’m trying not to make a spectacle of myself.” She amended, teasing.

“Clearly, you’ve failed spectacularly.”

Evelyn arched an eyebrow, a playful glint in her dark blue eyes. “Oh, so I’m spectacularly distracting - is that what you’re saying?”

Tom raised an eyebrow, amusement evident on his face, but he didn’t respond.

“I must say, it’s nice to know you noticed , even if it’s only to scold me.” She murmured, leaning closer than she ever had before. Tom’s eyes dipped to her neckline against his will, and Evelyn could have sworn she saw the faintest blush creep up his neck.

“Noticed?” He echoed, his voice low, the word caught somewhere between derision and something darker. His gaze dragged over her in a slow, assessing sweep that belied his restraint. “You make it sound as though you’ve tried to go unseen.”

There was a heartbeat of silence, and then -

“You’d fail at that, too.” Evelyn found she couldn’t maintain eye contact with him after that, her own blush betraying her, so instead she allowed them to lapse into easy silence. She let her eyes sweep across the room, trying to take in the scene without seeming obvious. She had to admit, Alphard and Lucien had done a great job. The lighting was low, and the accompanying enchanted instruments which played on their own created an intimate atmosphere.

She could see that students were beginning to loosen up. A few were swaying a little too enthusiastically to the music, cheeks flushed from butterbeer and perhaps something stronger. The occasional laugh cut through the hum of conversation, with some students clustered in small, animated groups, gesturing and leaning close to make themselves heard over the growing din.

Evelyn felt a little out of place, though not uncomfortable. The party was far more vibrant than anything she had imagined, and she hadn’t realised how much she had been anticipating it. She glanced at Tom again. He had shifted slightly, his usual composed posture subtly tense, as if every detail of the room annoyed him, but he never looked away from her. The way he watched, quiet and possessive, made her cheeks warm.

“I’m glad you’re here.” She blurted, the words slipping free before she could catch them. Heat rushed to her cheeks far too quickly for her liking, and she knew she’d spend the rest of the night hopelessly flushed, much to her mortification.

To save herself from speaking (and potentially embarrassing herself further), she took a swig from her butterbeer.

“I didn’t know you drank.” Tom remarked coolly.

“Oh, I’ve actually never drank before,” She confessed sheepishly, “I’m just…trying it out. Adrian gave it to me.” Tom reached out without hesitation and delicately plucked the bottle from her, his expression hard.

“Better that you don’t,” He said smoothly, fingers brushing hers, “you don’t need that to enjoy yourself.”

“I suppose you’re right, thank you.” Evelyn smiled, secretly pleased that he seemed to take an interest in her wellbeing. Her eyes drifted across the room, eager to get back into the thick of the party instead of hanging on the fringes. She spotted Alphard and Harriet, tucked off to one side in their own little world of easy conversation.

“Come on!” Evelyn said quickly, tugging at Tom’s wrist before he could protest. He glanced sharply down at her hand - still there, still tugging him along - but he allowed her to pull him without any resistance.

Alphard spotted them first, his gaze sweeping over her from head to toe in a way that was anything but discreet. His eyes flicked to Tom for a fraction of a second before his features schooled into a mask of courteous neutrality.

“Tom, Evelyn.” He nodded, a polite smile on his face.

“We were just discussing our Christmas plans.” Harriet said brightly. Evelyn slipped easily into the conversation, whilst Tom stood beside her like an immovable wall, offering little more than his presence. She didn’t mind - in fact, she was keenly aware that an hour had already passed and yet he was still there. For her, that was enough.

“What’s going on, guys?” Alaric’s voice carried a shade too loud as he strolled up, slinging an arm over Evelyn’s shoulders in a casual, almost possessive claim. She stiffened, all too aware of Tom at her side, silently wishing Alaric would recognise the unspoken boundary. “Evie, brought you another butterbeer,” He added, the alcohol evident in his easy charm and rosy cheeks.

“How thoughtful of you, Blackwood,” Tom drawled, tilting his head as if in admiration, “always so considerate .”

Alaric grinned, unfazed, “Some habits die hard.” He replied evenly, neither boy looked away. “Someone’s got to look after this one.” He pulled Evelyn flush against his side, and she despaired.The air was heavy with unspoken tension between the two, but this time she found no charm in it. She had never seen Alaric drunk before, and could only pray he wasn’t the kind to make a scene.

Hesitating, she glanced at Tom before she took the offered butterbeer. They were saved from any further conversation by the arrival of Adrian, who looked as equally inebriated as Alaric.

“Trying to get her drunk, are you?” Adrian’s voice cut through the music, sharp and accusatory, though he swayed slightly on his feet. He held onto Alaric’s shoulder, glaring at Alphard.

“Excuse me?” Alphard said, eyebrows raised, a lazy smile curling at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t think I quite caught that.”

“You heard me,” Adrian snapped, stepping closer. “I saw you, offering her drinks like you were trying to - ”

“Think before you speak.” Tom interjected smoothly, commanding attention immediately. “It’s not the sort of thing you want to get wrong.”

Adrian clamped his mouth shut, though his brows knit together in anger.

“Adrian, go and bother someone else!” Harriet snapped, although her voice was a touch louder than normal which suggested she’d had more than a few butterbeers.

Alphard chuckled softly, clearly entertained by the exchange. “Now, now, no need to get so upset, Fern. It’s just a party, isn’t it? She seems perfectly capable of enjoying herself.”

“She is capable.” Harriet said quickly, brushing past Adrian and grabbing Evelyn’s arm. “And I am enjoying myself. Stop trying to ruin my night.” She hissed the last part, her voice edged with uncharacteristic irritation, before the two girls were swallowed up by a crowd of dancing students.

Evelyn leaned close, swaying slightly in time with the music. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Harriet huffed, “sometimes Adrian does my head in. He is so over-protective.”

“Just try and enjoy yourself, either Alaric or myself will have a talk with him, to try and reign him in a bit.” Evelyn comforted her friend, feeling sympathetic. She could tell that Harriet just wanted to have a good time, but she equally couldn’t blame Adrian for being a little on edge. They were the only two Hufflepuff’s at this party after all.

They danced together for a while longer until Harriet had loosened up again, a smile on her face as she danced.

“Ladies!” Samuel Littlefoot appeared cradling an entire bottle of firewhiskey in his arms. Alaric, who was never far when Evelyn was involved, produced two glasses, holding them out expectantly.

“We managed to snag a whole bottle,” He announced, a grin plastered across his flushed face. “For you two.” Samuel poured until they were nearly full, laughing as a little sloshed onto the floor.

Evelyn blinked, unsure. She hadn’t had anything stronger than the few sips of butterbeer she’d managed earlier, and her stomach fluttered nervously. She searched the room for Tom, but found that he’d moved clear to the other side of the common room, surprisingly deep in conversation with Lestrange.

“Oh, go on then!” Harriet giggled, taking one of the glasses. Evelyn did the same - her unease melting into excitement.

“To surviving Slytherin parties.” Samuel mocked, taking a swig directly from the bottle. Harriet took a big gulp and grimaced, though she didn’t put the glass down.

Evelyn smirked at her reaction and took her own gulp. The moment the amber liquid hit her tongue, the sharp, warming shot slid straight down her throat, making her cough. Her chest tingled almost instantly, a heady heat spreading through her, followed by a lingering sweetness that reminded her of caramel and a faint whisper of smoke.

The next forty minutes blurred into a warm, dizzying haze; Alaric alternated between twirling her around and taking swigs from the bottle, and before Evelyn realized it, she had already downed two glasses of Firewhiskey herself.

She barely registered the room around her, lost in the rhythm of Alaric’s easy charm. His hands guided her with practiced confidence, spinning her close before stepping back just enough to let her sway to the music. She giggled at one of his jokes, though her words slurred slightly, a fact that seemed only to amuse him. His hands were large and exceedingly warm as they rested lightly on her waist, and she found that she liked it very much.

All the while, she remained completely unaware of Tom’s gaze. He was standing nearby, arms crossed, jaw tight, his dark eyes fixed on her every movement, his conversation with Lestrange abandoned. Each laugh she let out, each careless glance she gave Alaric, seemed to tighten the line of his mouth. The possessiveness simmering beneath his composed exterior made him grind his teeth in silent anger, though he said nothing, unwilling to make a scene - yet.

Evelyn, flushed and carefree, leaned her head onto Alaric’s shoulder, the room spinning.

“You are the most beautiful girl I have ever met,” Alaric said quietly, his voice low and earnest, “and I don’t say that to just anyone.” Evelyn blinked, caught completely off guard by the confession.

“What…?” She murmured, her cheeks warming as she glanced up at him.

“Remember when you asked me what I said to you in French, that day in the Great Hall?” He continued, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Evelyn nodded, recalling how impressed she had been when he revealed he spoke fluent French. The memory made a small shiver run through her, a strange, pleasant flutter that she didn’t bother fighting.

“Well, that’s what I said,” He explained, eyes softening, “and I meant every word.”

Evelyn hummed, shy and content, enjoying the warm feelings the mix of alcohol and Alaric’s arms were creating.

“I see.” She murmured, feeling swept up in the moment.

Maybe I should just give him a chance? Evelyn imagined he would make a good boyfriend - good looking, funny, kind, and they were already friends. Surely that had to count for something?

I’d like to have a boyfriend. She thought dreamily. The more she considered it in her hazy state, the more it simply made sense . She opened her mouth, ready to reveal her thoughts, but Alaric suddenly stepped away, running his hand through his hair.

“Excuse me, I need to use the loo.” He spun her round, both off-kilter, and laughed before he disappeared.

Left standing amidst the swirl of students and dancing bodies, Evelyn felt an unexpected rush of clarity, and with that it brought nerves. Had she really been about to confess she wanted to date Alaric? Suddenly, she realised how much she wanted to be somewhere a little quieter and less intense, somewhere where she could catch her breath. Somewhere…Tom.

Her eyes scanned the room, and there he was, leaning just slightly against the edge of the dance circle, sleeves rolled up, dark hair falling perfectly into place, his grey eyes fixed on her with that same unreadable intensity. Evelyn felt her stomach tighten in a way that made her cheeks heat further. She had to go to him.

“I…I’ll be right back.” She murmured to no one in particular, stumbling her way past a cluster of students. She finally reached him, her hand brushing lightly against his arm as she sidled up.

Tom made room for her, automatically catching her elbow as she wobbled. Evelyn peered at him, giggling at the stormy look on his face.

“Don’t look so miserable.” She teased, she leaned easily against his shoulder, relishing the contact. He had a very grounding presence. “You’ve been standing there for ages like…like a brooding statue.” She dissolved into giggles again, not realising that she was slowly but surely leaning her entire bodyweight against him.

Tom huffed, his eyes sliding over to her. “I’ve been judging the décor, the people…” His gaze flicked almost accusingly over to where Alaric had reappeared, laughing uproariously with a group of people. “..and the dancing.”

“Tom,” Evelyn sighed playfully, a mischievous grin on her face, “jealousy doesn’t suit you.” She laughed as he glared at her, though it lacked any heat.

“I’m not jealous,” He ground out, “just observant. You’ve had too much to drink.”

“Perhaps,” She conceded, “but it’s nice to just unwind. You should try it.” Her words had blurred into one towards the end of her sentence, but her playful gaze didn’t falter.

Something flickered across his expression, but he didn’t rise to the challenge. Instead, he remained cool, his face impassive. “You’ll regret drinking.”

Evelyn let out a burst of bright laughter, “What’s the worst that could happen - someone stepping on my toes?” She teased.

Tom smiled humourlessly, “Depends who you’re dancing with.” She fought against the urge to invite him to dance, knowing that he wouldn’t be interested. The room suddenly felt stifling and the chatter too loud.

“I want some fresh air.” She announced, as if that solved everything.

Tom’s eyes lingered on her for a heartbeat. “Lead the way.” He said firmly.

Chapter Text

The dungeon air was cooler than the common room, carrying the faint scent of damp stone. Evelyn found that she could breathe a little easier now, the noise of the party replaced with nothing but the sound of their footsteps. She stumbled, the Firewhiskey making her steps a little uneven. She teetered suddenly and pressed a hand to the wall, huffing out a light sigh.

Tom steadied her, surveying her with faint amusement.

“Careful.” He murmured.

“I’m fine,” She insisted, eyes bright as they continued to walk, “I’ve only had two or three drinks. Well, who’s counting at this point?”

“Apparently not you.” Tom let out a quiet, genuine laugh, the kind she almost never heard from him. Her heart fluttered traitorously; the sound was beautiful in a way she hadn’t expected.

They reached the edge of the courtyard, and Tom flicked his wand. The warming charm settled over them like a second skin before they stepped outside. Evelyn slipped her arm through his, letting herself lean against him as he guided her toward the stone bench that was in front of the fountain.

The courtyard was bathed in silver, the moonlight spilling across flagstones like liquid glass. There were no other students about, and for a moment Evelyn felt like it was only Tom and her who existed. They sat in their usual companionable silence, where Evelyn pretended she hadn’t noticed Tom’s intense stare.

“You shouldn’t wear that around them.”

She blinked, turning to face him. “Around who?”

“The rest of them.” He said it simply enough, his voice low and almost gentle - but there was steel beneath it. “That dress is too nice for them. You stand out.”

Evelyn cocked her head to the side, a giggle escaping her lips. “Isn’t that sort of the point? To look good for a party?” She smoothed out the bottom of the dress, admiring how the material shimmered in the moonlight.

Tom didn’t laugh with her. He wasn’t smiling at all, in fact he looked eerily calm.

“I don’t like the way they looked at you.”

Evelyn considered him for a moment before trying to brush it off. “Tom, nobody was -”

“I’m not angry,” He cut in smoothly, “I just don’t want you to wear it again. Not around them.” Her stomach twisted, a confusing mix of unease and pleasure that he cared so much. His words weren’t sharp, but they weren’t a request either.

Evelyn debated on whether she would tease him or not; despite her tipsy state, she could tell that Tom was being serious, and he wanted a serious answer in response.

“I won’t wear it again.” She acquiesced softly, feeling relieved when the slight tension in his shoulders eased.

“Good.” He said, studying her for a few seconds further before turning away. Evelyn turned to face the fountain, dipping her fingers into the water for something to do. Tom watched her with detached interest, flinching back as she suddenly flicked water at him.

“Oops.” She giggled, smiling brightly. Tom huffed good-naturedly as she went to flick him again, his hand reaching out and grasping her wrist.

“Merlin’s beard, you’re fully drunk.” He shook his head, smirking as Evelyn laughed in protest.

“Not drunk…just feeling delightfully playful.” She leaned forward, the words coming out a touch slurred.

Tom arched an eyebrow. “That’s one way to put it. Tell me, Bennett, was that your grand strategy for tonight? Drink yourself stupid until you forget how to speak?”

“Never call me Bennett again - it’s Evelyn to you,” She announced, “and secondly, I’m speaking perfectly fine.” Her eyes narrowed playfully.

“You’re hopeless.”

“Hopelessly fun?”

“If you say so.” Tom shook his head, looking off to the side. Evelyn studied him, wondering if he was annoyed with her antics, but he wasn’t tense or sneering. If anything he looked…entertained.

“I’m surprised Lucien agreed to let Adrian and Harriet attend the party.” She said after a heartbeat of silence, wishing to extend their time together before they went back inside. “Luckily for those two, I was able to convince Alphard, who in turn did all the hard work with Lucien for me!”

“And how did you manage that?” Tom leaned back and crossed his legs, eyes narrowing as he surveyed Evelyn.

She hid a giggle behind her hand, “My devastating good looks, charm…wit. I could go on.” She teased, eyes glinting.

Tom paused, his lips twisting into something that resembled mirth. “Two out of three, perhaps.”

“Hey!” Evelyn nudged him, although she let herself stay with their shoulders touching instead of pulling back. The quiet returned between them, although this time it seemed heavier as his gaze darkened. He held eye contact with her, tilting his head back to look at the stars almost casually.

“You know…” His voice was light, conversational, “for someone who claims to be so clever, you’re rather careless with whom you give your attention.”

“Careless? Excuse me, I’m delightful company.” Evelyn replied, misunderstanding him.

“Oh, no doubt,” Tom smirked, “but not everyone deserves it.” He paused, and then added offhandedly, “Blackwood, for example.”

A knowing smile appeared on Evelyn’s face - was Tom feeling jealous again? The idea sent a thrill through her.

“Oh?”

Tom’s tone was smooth and unhurried, like a tutor correcting a student. “He’s obvious. Clumsy with his affections. Always hovering around you…people notice.”

Evelyn felt a humiliated blush stain her cheeks, the echo of the conversation with Seraphina and the other Slytherin girls rushing to the forefront of her mind. Hadn’t they also said that people were talking about her and Tom?

“Notice what?” She asked quietly, suddenly feeling a lot more sober in the face of Tom’s words.

“That he can’t seem to keep his eyes - or his hands - off you. Even after you rejected him.”

Why was he saying this? Evelyn shifted uncomfortably. Tom’s voice wasn’t judgmental; it was calm, matter-of-fact, almost clinical. And somehow, that made her feel worse.

“Well…” Evelyn hesitated, unsure on what to say. “He’s just being friendly.”

They both knew it was a lie.

Tom hummed as though he’d expected that answer. “If that’s what you believe, who am I to argue?”

Evelyn’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. “He’s harmless.” She said firmly, words she had previously echoed in the library.

“Harmless,” Tom repeated in amusement, “or perhaps just…fickle.” His voice became like velvet, low and sharp and almost cutting - despite how gently he was speaking.

“Fickle?” Evelyn frowned, her mind still dulled by the effects of Firewhiskey. She struggled to keep a grasp on what Tom was saying, his words piling over one another in her mind. He didn’t look at her for a while, the moonlight sharp on his side profile.

Tom’s eyes stayed on a distant spot in the courtyard, speaking as though he was making an idle observation. “I suppose you don’t know.”

“What don’t I know, Tom?” Frustration leaked through into Evelyn’s voice.

He glanced at her then, the corner of his mouth tugging up in an infuriating almost-smile.

“Rosalind Turner. Ravenclaw. Pretty enough, if you like the bookish sort. He spent most of last term shadowing her.”

Evelyn took a moment to process what he had said, trying to recall who this mysterious Ravenclaw was.

“Rosalind?” Her voice came out faint, something unpleasant oozing out of her chest at the name. She gripped the edge of the bench tightly as Tom continued to speak.

“Of course there was a…fling. Nothing serious, clearly. But Blackwood doesn’t exactly hide where his attention falls. He was just as devoted to her as he is to you now, perhaps more so.”

A…fling? The unpleasant oozing morphed into something that almost felt like betrayal, although a small part of Evelyn knew that it was completely irrational for her to be feeling that way.

“You’re new, Evelyn, that’s all. Novelty is very attractive to boys like Blackwood.” Tom watched as uncertainty and something akin to hurt flashed across her face, completely unguarded in her tipsy state.

“You make it sound like I’m some sort of…passing distraction.” She forced a laugh, although it sounded hollow to her ears. Was Alaric so intent on becoming her friend when she joined because she was new? A novelty, just like Tom had said? The words twisted like a knife in her gut, and suddenly their entire friendship was thrown into question.

“You’re not a passing distraction to me.” Tom said it so firmly and with such finality that Evelyn found warmth blooming in her chest, chasing away her spiralling thoughts - even if only temporarily. Unable to maintain eye contact, she looked away for a second, an embarrassed smile on her face. Despite Tom’s intensity, there was an underlying warmth to him that she hadn’t seen before. She glanced back at him through her lashes, disappointed to see that his expression had slipped back into something unreadable, as though nothing of note had been said at all.

“Alaric is my friend, nothing more.” Evelyn said firmly.

“Exactly.” Tom replied quickly. He leaned an elbow on the side of the fountain, studying her with quiet amusement. “So it shouldn’t bother you in the least.”

“Bother me?”

He gave a minute shrug, as if the matter was trivial. “That he’s easily distracted. That he spreads his attention around. You don’t have feelings for him, do you?”

Evelyn felt hot under his scrutiny. “Of course not.”

“Good.” Tom said lightly, the words sounding like nothing more than a friend’s reassurance - but there was satisfaction beneath it, subtle and deliberate.

For a while they simply sat, the courtyard was silent except for the steady trickle of the fountain and the occasional hoot from a nearby owl. Her mind was starting to feel clearer, although her thoughts kept flicking back to Tom’s words…Alaric and Rosalind, and their fling. She squared her shoulders, her breath coming out in a sharp and decisive puff. She was determined to have a good night, she would have to think about all this tomorrow morning instead.

“Thank you for coming outside with me.” Evelyn said softly, eyes wide and kind as she turned to Tom. A pause, and then, “You’re different like this.”

Tom considered her, for once he seemed genuinely curious, “Different?”

“When it’s just us two…” Evelyn continued, grateful she wasn’t blushing, “You’re…I don’t know, easier? More open?” She smiled shyly, ducking her head to stare at her shoes.

“Perhaps you’ve drank so much you’re imagining it.” He responded dryly, though not unkindly.

“It’s definitely real. You don’t usually spend time like this with people.” She went back to swirling one finger in the water, too shy to look at Tom directly.

“You’re not people.” He said simply.

“Then what am I?” She asked gently, finally looking at him. Tom’s answer didn’t come at once. Instead, he let the silence stretch, his eyes lingering on her face as though committing it to memory.

“Different.” He finally said, very carefully. The way he said it, low and slightly uncertain, made it sound like a truth he shouldn’t have spoken aloud.

The butterflies that she was so used to appearing when Tom was around erupted, although this time they felt slightly different. It felt like her whole body was tingling, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his.

“Tom…” She trailed off, unsure on what to say.

His brow furrowed slightly, his voice hard but not aimed at her. “You’re full of contradictions, Evelyn. Cautious and reckless. Naïve and smart. Quiet, and yet somehow louder than anyone I know.”

“And you notice all that?” She asked, almost whispering.

“I notice everything.” Tom said matter-of-factly. Without realising it, they had both leaned near to each other as they spoke, and they both seemed to become aware of it at the same time. His eyes landed on her mouth for a split second before returning to her gaze, so quick she almost thought she’d imagined it. Evelyn’s heart was hammering away, the air charged with something that she dared not name.

“You make it sound like I’m… special.” Evelyn had meant it to sound teasing, but the words slipped out softer than she intended.

For the first time, Tom’s composure faltered. His eyes flickered, something unguarded breaking through. “Maybe you are.” The words were tossed out lightly, as if they meant nothing, but the moment hung between them all the same.

Then, with practiced ease, he stood, extending a hand to her. Evelyn took it, her heart leaping at the contact, only for him to withdraw the instant she was steady, tucking his hand into his pocket and keeping his arm stiffly at his side, out of her reach.

The warmth in her cheeks now had little to do with alcohol.

“Come on. You’ll freeze if you stay out here any longer.” Tom allowed Evelyn to lead the way back into the castle, staying close behind her in case she lost her footing.

I can’t believe I was going to tell Alaric I wanted to date him…what a mistake that would have been, when Tom is right here! The thought struck her out of nowhere, so suddenly that she almost stumbled. Did she actually want to date Tom Riddle? Did she…like him?

Her chest tightened. The idea felt absurd - she had never let it form so clearly before - but now that it was here, she couldn’t push it away. She replayed the way his voice had dipped lower when he’d called her different, like the word carried a meaning only she was allowed to understand. The way his eyes had lingered on her, not idly, but with purpose. It had set her apart, as if he saw something no one else did.

Her stomach gave a pleasant flip the more she thought about it. She wasn’t naïve - she knew nearly every girl in their year (and probably some beyond) harboured a crush on Tom Riddle. And really, who could blame them? He stood taller than most, towering over her by a full head, and his presence was commanding without him needing to try. He was handsome, clever, sharp-witted…but it was his cool detachment that made him feel almost mythical and just out of reach. He wore his distance like armour, and he made it very clear to everyone that he wasn’t interested.

And yet… Evelyn couldn’t shake the flutter of hope in her chest. A tiny, reckless part of her whispered that maybe, just maybe, Tom Riddle wasn’t as untouchable as he wanted the world to believe.

Fine…I’m definitely attracted to him. That was all she was willing to admit for the night. This train of thought required a clearer head. Evelyn’s mind then drifted over to the fast approaching Christmas holidays - she needed to tell Tom about her decision to stay at the castle. Tomorrow was Saturday, the day where students would be travelling home. She still hadn’t told her friends either, dreading the inevitable reactions; Harriet’s knowing gaze, Adrian’s confusion and indignation…but it was Alaric’s response she feared the most. He would take it personally, she was sure of it.

And then there Tom. The thought of telling him sent her spiraling all over again. What if he dismissed it outright? What if he didn’t want her there - or worse, rejected the very idea of her staying?

They reached the outside of the common room where Evelyn grabbed his arm, stopping him from speaking the password and entering.

Clinging to the last sparks of Firewhiskey in her system, she spoke, “I haven’t told you something.” She said it suddenly, sounding braver than she felt.

Tom gave her a sidelong glance, an eyebrow raised. He said nothing, but his silence indicated that she should continue.

Her tongue felt like lead. “I wrote to my aunt…I told her I’m staying here for Christmas.”

Tom remained silent, and suddenly, Evelyn found herself rambling.

“It will be fun! We can spend Christmas together - “ Her words seem to hit him like cold water. His jaw tightened and he took half a step back, his anger evident.

“Why would you do that?”

Evelyn’s stomach dropped, although she managed to maintain her composure. “Because I wanted to.” She said gently.

“No,” He cut in, voice sharp and cold as his mask slid into place, “do you think I need looking after? Do you think I’m some charity case you can attach yourself to for the holidays?”

“Tom - ”

“I don’t need your pity.” He hissed, hands clenched at his sides.

“Pity?” Evelyn questioned sadly, “Is that what you think this is?” She felt disappointed and hurt that he could think that lowly of her.

“What else could it be?” He replied coolly, though the question carried more weight than he intended. She took a steadying breath and closed the gap between them, her hand reaching out to grip his wrist softly.

“It’s not pity, Tom. It’s…what friends do. They don’t let each other be alone when they don’t have to be.” Evelyn surprised herself with how steady she was, despite her nerves feeling frayed and her heart pounding away,

Tom turned his head away, unsettled at what she said. The word ‘friends’ grated and soothed all at once. His mind was caught on it - resisting and yet not rejecting it outright. He seemed to battle with himself, but Evelyn waited patiently, reluctantly releasing him so as to not overwhelm him.

Tom glared at the wall; a thousand thoughts tumbled through his mind, yet words seemed to escape him.

Christmas.

The word alone was a knife. He hadn’t planned for it, hadn’t thought about it. He didn’t want to think about it. He enjoyed being at Hogwarts by himself, it was predictable. Controlled. Something he had almost come to look forward to. And then Evelyn went and said it - that she’d written to her aunt and was staying. For him. Like she’d crept into a locked room and thrown the windows open without asking if he wanted air.

When she said it would be ‘fun’, his jaw clenched hard enough to ache. Fun? The word was insulting - his first thought was to reject her - after all, whatever she was offering him was trivial in comparison to two weeks spent in solitude, researching and planning to his heart's content.

Tom could barely admit to himself that Evelyn’s decision to stay (and the fact that she actually wanted to be near him) had unsettled something deeply raw and dangerous inside him.

Pity. It was easier to call it that. It’s what people gave him when they didn’t know what else to do. A handout. A gesture. A hollow kindness. It couldn’t be anything else, could it? Because if it wasn’t pity, then it was something he didn’t have a name for.

And then she had dared to touch him. Soft and steady, like she wasn’t afraid of him burning her. Friends. That meant she was choosing him - not out of fear, nor out of pity…but because she wanted to.

That was the worst part of it all.

“You’ll regret it. You’ll miss your friends,” His voice was low and controlled, but it still carried a rough edge to it, “you’ll miss your aunt. You’ll miss all the things you pretend not to care about.” He was sneering now.

Evelyn smiled sadly, her eyes far too open and trusting. She gazed at him so kindly it made him feel sick.

“Perhaps,” She admitted, “but I won’t regret you.”

Tom’s breath stilled, though he schooled his expression into his usual blank mask. He hated Evelyn. He hated the way her words reached him, and hated how he could never quite push her away.

“That…is a dangerous, and foolish thing to say.”

“Why? If speaking the truth makes me a fool, then so be it.” Evelyn smiled softly, a knot untangling itself in her chest. Tom hadn’t rejected her - sure, he hadn’t taken it as well as she had hoped, but here he was, still talking to her.

Tom stepped back another half-step. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes I do.” She teased, hesitating briefly before taking a step forward.

“Careful, Evelyn. You’re drunk - don’t say things you can’t take back.”

Her smile turned sharp. “Maybe I don’t want to take it back.”

Tom’s gaze snapped to hers at that, cold and searching, as though he could will her into silence. Evelyn held his gaze, soft and open and inviting. As usual, her face was beet red.

The silence stretched, heavy with everything unspoken, until Tom finally turned his head away from her. He exhaled sharply through his nose as if dismissing the moment.

“Come on,” He muttered, looking thoroughly put out, “before you say something else even more foolish.”

Evelyn beamed behind his back.

The common room had grown louder in their absence. The music was brisker, with bodies pressed closer together as people mingled and danced. The lighting was low, and the air was thick with the smell of Firewhiskey and spilt butterbeer.

Evelyn grimaced as she squeezed her way past a group of students, grateful when Tom manoeuvred her in front of him and away from a leering seventh year. One scathing look from the prefect was enough to send the tipsy student backing away, his attention focusing onto someone else.

A few heads turned in their direction, though no one asked about where they’d been.

Alaric, however, noticed.

He was sitting on the arm of the sofa, half laughing with Adrian, Samuel, and a few other people when his gaze landed on Evelyn. Relief softened his face, until he saw who she was with.

“Evie!” He called, pushing himself upright. “I thought you’d gone missing.” His expression shifted, a trace of a challenge appearing as he sized Tom up. “Didn’t realise you’d gone out for some…fresh air.” The way he said it made Evelyn feel embarrassed.

“Your creativity is impressive, Blackwood, but I suggest you apply it elsewhere - not everyone is quite so… liberal with their affections as you. If you were so worried, perhaps you should keep a better eye on her.” Tom spoke the words calmly, but they landed like a spark in dry tinder.

Alaric stood up, his face like stone. “She doesn’t need watching.”

“No?” Tom’s eyebrow lifted. “Consider yourself lucky I was around. Who knows where she’d have ended up otherwise - drunk, aimless, and alone.”

Evelyn was reminded, once again, of Alaric’s fling with Rosalind, and she cringed. She was grateful - more than she expected - that Tom had defended her, but she couldn’t shake the sting of Alaric’s careless words. Whether he meant to needle Tom or not, it wasn’t fair that it was at her expense.

Alaric stepped closer, his hands balled into fists at his side. A few people had stopped talking to surreptitiously listen in.

“She’s fine, I would’ve looked after her if she needed it.” He ran his hand through his hair, his voice edged with irritation, “I don’t know what you think you’re - “

Adrian tugged him back, “Easy, mate.”

Tom was infuriatingly calm, a thin smile on his face. “No need to get worked up.” He said smoothly.

Silence, charged and delicate, hung between them. Alaric hovered, torn between hexing Tom or whisking Evelyn away from him - he would preferably like to do both.

Suddenly, Dolohov lumbered over to the group, heavy-footed and grinning, the picture of ill-timed confidence. He clapped Tom on the shoulder, far too familiar as he slurred his next words.

“You’ve got him rattled,” He said loudly, jerking his chin toward Alaric. “Like a dog on a leash. Nearly lunged at you over nothing.” A few more people looked over. Alaric clenched his hands.

“Must be Bennett, huh? Can’t say I blame you for losing your head, Blackwood.”

Alaric’s head snapped up. “Shut your mouth.”

Dolohov laughed, taking another swig of Firewhiskey. “Hit a sore spot, did I? What’s the matter - you worried she’d rather keep Tom’s company more than yours? Can’t say I’d fault her, bet she won’t last the night before -”

“Enough.”

Tom’s voice sliced through, quiet but absolute. It halted Dolohov mid-word and drew the eyes of those who had been listening in. Evelyn stood still, humiliation and anger rising in her throat like fire. She dug her nails into her palms, urging herself not to give him the satisfaction of her reacting.

How she despised Alexander Dolohov.

“Are you going to let him talk like that?” Alaric spat, face red from alcohol and anger. Adrian clamped his hand down on his friend's arm, glowering at both Riddle and Dolohov. “Are you really going to let him drag her name into it?” Alaric continued.

Dolohov grinned stupidly, spilling some of his drink onto the floor. “I was only saying -”

Tom cut him off without so much as a glance. “You were saying nothing worth repeating.”

The larger boy paused before shrugging and lumbering off, clearly having decided that there was no fun to be had. Tom then deliberately turned his gaze to Alaric, his demeanour ice cold.

“And you - perhaps you should ask yourself why you’re making such a spectacle of yourself over nothing. Unless…” Tom’s smile grew razor-thin, “Dolohov’s words aren’t far from the truth.”

Alaric went rigid, before he suddenly lurched forward, his butterbeer clattering to the floor. Someone shouted gleefully that there was going to be a fight, catching more attention, but Adrian was quick and clamped his hand down on Alaric’s arm, restraining him with a muttered, “He’s not worth it.”

Whispers rippled like wildfire through the crowd as Alphard and Harriet arrived. Harriet hurried over to Evelyn, her face tight with concern. Alphard simply surveyed the scene, coming to stand just slightly behind Tom.

“What are you all looking at?” He drawled, the warning he’d layered underneath not lost on the crowd. The other students hastily returned to their previous conversations, although Evelyn felt like she could still feel their eyes on her.

Alaric stormed out the common room and into the dungeon corridors, each footstep hard against the stone. Evelyn followed close behind, almost matching him stride for stride. The twins trailed behind, until they rounded a corner and stopped.

“You shouldn’t let him get to you like that!” Evelyn admonished, frustration at the whole situation evident in her voice. “You were practically playing into Dolohov’s hands, you’re better than that.”

Alaric whipped round, his face flushed and his eyes blazing. “Really, Evelyn? I was defending you!”

Harriet stepped in the middle of them, gently but firmly pushing Alaric a few paces back.

“Both of you, stop fighting! It won’t fix anything - I don’t even know why you’re turning on each other like this.” She glared at both of them, her own chest heaving. Alaric looked at Harriet, then looked at Evelyn, before sighing and leaning against the wall.

Adrian slung an arm around his sister, grinning cheekily.

“Great, now that all the drama’s over - Harriet, you’ve been hanging around Nott all night.”

Harriet shrugged, blushing lightly. “He was just there.”

The change in topic was a welcome relief for the group.

“Sure, just there.” Alaric chimed in, chuckling tiredly.

Evelyn giggled, the tension leaving her shoulders.

“Seriously though…do you like him?” Adrian asked, studying her carefully. The whole group went silent as they waited for Harriet’s response.

Harriet bit her lip, her cheeks pink. “I don’t know.” She confessed honestly, although the small smile twisting her lips indicated otherwise. “Maybe. I mean, he’s nice, clever, charming…”

“Sounds like ‘maybe’ is your polite way of saying yes.” Evelyn smiled, sharing a look with her friends.

Adrian’s expression softened as he sighed, hugging Harriet close. “Well…just see where it goes. But if he messes you around he’ll have me to deal with.” He warned, half joking.

“And me.” Alaric chimed in.

“And also me.” Evelyn added. Harriet gave Adrian a sharp nudge in the ribs, and then a pointed look was sent at Evelyn and Alaric.

“We’ll see you both back in the party - hopefully there’s someone lingering outside who will let us back in.” Harriet waved goodbye, Adrian following after her down the corridor. Their footsteps echoed until they could no longer be heard, leaving just Alaric and Evelyn alone.

“Evie,” He started, a mix of exasperation and concern in his voice, “do you really think I’d let anyone speak about you like that?”

Evelyn sighed, looping her arms round his neck. “I know, Alaric. I’m not upset with you…I just hate Dolohov. I don’t like seeing him get to you like that.”

Alaric’s jaw tightened, the fire in his eyes softening as he looked at her. “He doesn’t get to me…well, not usually,” He admitted, finally letting a grin break through, “but when he uses you to do it - “ He broke off, shaking his head. “I can’t stand it.”

“Well, thank you for standing up for me.” Evelyn looked up at him, her smile sweet. He laughed lightly, his breath brushing her skin. For a few moments they simply stared at each other, and Evelyn couldn’t tear her eyes away. The golden flecks in his green eyes were mesmerising - the closeness was dangerous and dizzying, and she knew she should pull away before it went too far, but his warmth was like gravity itself.

“You’re welcome.” Alaric whispered. Ever so slowly, his hand rose to cradle her cheek. “Evie…” Her name was a confession and a plea all at once. His eyes said, ‘please don’t pull away’ as he gently pulled her flush against him. Her fingers curled in his hair at the nape of his neck and he leaned in, the space between them vanishing in a heartbeat.

Alaric’s mouth found hers in a kiss that was at once tentative yet firm.

Tentative, because it was new - an unspoken boundary crossed at last, cautious in its reverence. Yet firm, because it was certain, charged with everything that remained unsaid between them.

I can’t believe I’m having my first kiss! Evelyn let Alaric guide the kiss, her breath catching as he deepened it. One arm curled around her waist possessively, the other threaded through her hair, angling her face just right. He pulled back, a soft grin on his face. His thumb brushed over her cheek as his eyes searched hers.

Evelyn’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright.

“Well…that felt long overdue.” He whispered, eliciting a breathless laugh from Evelyn.

“It certainly feels like it.” She admitted, tucking her head under his chin. They stayed like that for a little while longer, wrapped up in each other’s presence before Evelyn reluctantly withdrew.

“We should get back to the party, before people wonder where we’ve gone.”

Alaric ducked his head down and gave Evelyn one last chaste kiss before winking at her.

“If we really have to, sweetheart.”

Dolohov lounged at the bottom of the dormitory staircase, a bottle of Firewhiskey dangling carelessly in one hand and a giggling girl balanced on his knee. Their voices were low, full of murmured flirtations, when a shadow cut across them.

They looked up to find Tom Riddle standing there, eyes sharp as he surveyed the scene unimpressed. Dolohov jerked his knee, and the girl (whose name he hadn’t quite caught) gave a startled gasp as she nearly tumbled to the floor. She shot him a glare as he waved her off dismissively, rising to his feet.

“Blackwood’s face earlier - he looked ready to swing! I had him riled up, you didn’t even have to lift a finger. Easy.” He bragged, mistaking Tom’s silence as approval.

Tom smiled, thin and razor-sharp, although his eyes darkened considerably. “Dolohov,” He began softly, “when have I ever needed you to fight my battles?”

Dolohov hesitated, a flicker of unease behind his eyes. “I was only - “

“You were loud,” Tom interrupted, stepping closer, “crass, and eager to remind everyone you have no sense of when to keep quiet. Do you think I require you to provoke Blackwood? To parade my name through your muck-stained boasts?”

Dolohov paled, his bottle of Firewhiskey abandoned on the step. Tom leaned in even further, so close that no one else would be able to hear them.

“Do you remember what happened last time you forgot yourself?” His words were almost gentle, but the memory hung sharp in the air - the bone-aching agony of the Cruciatus curse, and the way it had left the other boy gasping and broken on the floor weeks earlier.

Dolohov flinched despite himself, his head lowering in fear. “I -I remember, my Lord.”

“Good,” Tom’s smile was venomous, “then let this serve as your reminder. I do not need defenders. I need followers who know their place. The next time you open your mouth to amuse yourself at my expense…”

“I understand.” Dolohov hurriedly interjected, his voice rough with fear. Tom’s composure smoothed as though nothing had happened, stepping back an appropriate distance.

“Good. Now fetch me some water. And Dolohov?”

He froze mid-step, turning back warily.

“Smile as you do it.”

The rest of the party passed without incident, much to Evelyn’s relief. She and Alaric moved around each other with a new kind of awareness, their movements a little uncertain in the light of their shared kiss. Harriet found herself standing beside Alphard once more, and Adrian had struck up a friendship with Samuel, bonded over their mutual love of Quidditch.

Eventually, only a few students remained in the common room, most others having gone to bed already. Rosier and Vespera had taken up permanent residency on the sofa, completely wrapped up in each other, oblivious to the rest of the world.

Evelyn cringed as she averted her eyes, cheeks flaming pink in embarrassment.

“It happens every year.” Alphard appeared at Evelyn’s side seemingly from nowhere, making her jump. She clutched her chest, breaking out into a smile.

“What happens - Lucien and Vespera?” They both pulled a face at the same time, breaking out into chuckles.

Alphard paused, tilting his head to the side. Evelyn supposed he might be a bit tipsy by the way he smiled so loosely, the formality he wore earlier in the evening lost.

“You look…exquisite tonight. Green suits you.”

“Ah.” Evelyn’s stomach twisted uncomfortably, where was Harriet? “Margaret Catchlove, one of Harriet’s friends, actually lent this dress to me.”

Alphard appraised her in a way that would have made her feel flattered if it was any other time, but in the light of what seemed like Harriet’s emerging feelings towards the older boy, she could only feel awkward.

“How did you find the party then?” He asked conversationally.

“I had a lot of fun, thank you for organising it.” Evelyn said sweetly, despite the tight smile lighting up her face.

“Is something bothering you?” He asked astutely, arm twitching as if he wanted to reach out to her.

Evelyn sighed, wishing she was in bed and away from everyone. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt tonight. Especially Harriet.”

Alphard’s expression softened. “I see.” He nodded slowly, as if he understood the unspoken concern running through her. “You’re a good friend.”

Just then, a bright bubble of laughter cut through their conversation. Harriet and Adrian were approaching them with Alaric bringing up the rear.

“It’s time we were going.” Adrian announced, still grinning as if he’s just heard the world’s best joke. He glanced at Evelyn and Alphard. “You two look like you’re deep in conversation - did we interrupt?”

“Not at all.” Alphard replied smoothly, stepping forward and sweeping up Harriet’s hand in a kiss. She giggled and blushed fiercely, the two other boys groaning in mock disgust.

Harriet slid her arm through Evelyn’s with familiar warmth, her eyes shining from the evening’s excitement. “I had the best time tonight. Thank you for letting us come.” She directed at Alphard. “Did you have a good time too, Evie?”

She felt Alaric’s gaze land on her for a brief second before he glanced away, his cheeks pink. Her heart gave a small, anxious jolt.

“Yes,” She said, keeping her voice light, “It was fun.” She squeezed Harriet appreciatively.

Alphard cleared his throat. “Don’t let me keep you. Good nights are meant to end before they drag.” He gave a small, casual half-wave goodbye to the group before he disappeared upstairs to his dormitory. 

As the group began drifting toward the exit, Evelyn felt Harriet lean closer, her voice dropping to a playful whisper. “We’ll talk later, all right?” Her eyes darted meaningfully toward Alaric, and Evelyn’s stomach tightened.

“Right.” She murmured back, allowing herself a small smile. The twins disappeared into the dungeons, leaving Alaric and Evelyn once more.

“Evie, can we talk?” Alaric asked earnestly. Evelyn regarded him evenly; she completely understood why he’d want to talk as they wouldn’t have much time to tomorrow, since he would be leaving to go home to his family for Christmas. But Evelyn also needed time to decompress and review the night. If she thought she had felt confused before, this party had only made it ten times worse.

“Uh - “ She glanced over as she noticed Tom had reappeared from wherever he had gone, eyes focusing on her instantly. He was just standing there, not actively doing anything else; he looked effortlessly relaxed as he leaned against the wall, but Evelyn could feel his pull, the silent expectation that he was waiting for her.

Alaric huffed in annoyance, forcing a teasing yet very sharp smile.

“Or,” He said lightly, voice laced with sarcasm, “I can just retire for the night - clearly Riddle is running your agenda for you.” He ran his hands through his hair, debating with himself before he pulled Evelyn in for a brief, crushing hug.

“Alaric - “

“It’s fine…I can’t say I understand your strange friendship with him, but…” Alaric shrugged in frustration. “See you at the carriages Evie, 11am.” He strode towards the dormitories, glaring at Tom as he passed him.

Evelyn followed at a more leisurely pace, coming to stand next to the prefect. For a while, neither of them spoke. The common room was empty now apart from them, and Evelyn idly wondered what the time was. She felt a tickle of guilt that she couldn’t quite shake - the memory of what had happened in the corridor pressed at her chest. She shifted slightly, wanting to speak but having nothing to say.

Her mind kept drifting back to Alaric instead; the memory of his lips lingering at the forefront of her mind.

Why should I feel guilty? She thought, twisting a lock of her hair. Tom and I aren’t together, he hasn’t made any indication that he wants that with me…and do I even want that with him?

She glanced at him, feeling unsettled. She knew the guilt wasn’t rational, but it was stubborn, gnawing at her even as she tried to convince herself that it shouldn’t. Evelyn wondered if she was fearful of his reaction if he found out, or if it was her own attraction to Tom that was making her question how she felt. Either way, she couldn’t stop thinking about it, and it left her unsure of what she wanted or even how she was supposed to act.

“Do they know?” Tom asked, his voice low.

Evelyn startled, her stomach dropping. Did he know?

“What?” She blurted, glancing up at him.

“That you’re staying here,” Tom said simply, “with me.”

“Ah.” Evelyn paused, “Well…they all have their own plans.” She hedged around the question, feeling uncomfortable. She had left it far too late to tell them, and after sharing a kiss with Alaric, he was bound to react poorly.

“That’s not what I asked,” Tom pressed, catching her attention once more, “do they know?”

“I haven’t told them.” Evelyn admitted, clasping her hands behind her back.

Tom’s mouth curved, “So it’s a secret, then. Between us. At least until the morning.”

He was smirking, but Evelyn’s stomach seemed to sink into her knees. Secret. Her kiss with Alaric was a secret too. Alphard’s misplaced affections towards her - affections she hoped she had warned off…her whole evening felt stitched together with unspoken truths, each one pressing heavier than the last.

Tom assessed her knowingly, as if he could read her every thought on her face.

“Secrets only serve their purpose for so long. Best not to let them fester.”

The words made Evelyn feel nervous, though she couldn’t quite tell if he meant her staying at Hogwarts, or the other secrets weighing on her chest. She forced a small smile, though it felt fragile. “Right.”

Tom inclined his head, a gesture that was almost gentlemanly, but carried with it a quiet finality. “You’d better get some rest. Tomorrow will be here before you know it.”

“Goodnight, Tom. I’ll see you in the morning once I’ve seen the others off.”

He watched as she walked up the stairs, her figure retreating into the shadows until she vanished from sight. His expression didn’t shift, but his eyes lingered on the empty space where she had stood, thoughtful and unreadable.

Tomorrow promised to be interesting.

Chapter Text

Connection

Evelyn awoke to an empty dormitory, the silence welcome after the loudness of the party. She had gone straight to bed the previous night, her head a mess of contradicting thoughts and conflicting feelings. The stillness that should have soothed her only left room for memories to intrude.

The kiss with Alaric was the most vivid, something she both regretted and cherished in the same breath. She turned over the memory from every angle, replaying it again and again.

Evelyn felt a pang of guilt, knowing she wasn’t being fair to her friend - it wasn’t too long ago she had rejected him, after all. Yet here she was, kissing him in corridors and encouraging him. What did that make her? Cruel? Confused? Or simply selfish?

The truth was, she couldn’t deny the comfort he gave her; Alaric was steady in a way few others were, enthusiastic in his affections and easy to be around. She could let her guard down around him, breathe, laugh, and be free. There were no complications, no hidden agendas that she had to unravel. Perhaps that was why she indulged in the kiss…a part of her wanted to believe in the simplicity of his feelings.

Evelyn was all too aware that his feelings for her were clearly more than just casual, and they certainly weren't fleeting. Every glance and every touch spoke of a depth she wasn’t sure she could return. She pressed a hand to her forehead and groaned. Alaric deserved better than this back-and-forth, better than her uncertainty. He deserved clarity and honesty, but every time she tried to think logically about how she felt, her thoughts circled back to Tom.

A pull she could neither resist nor explain.

And then there was Rosalind. The name alone soured her stomach and made her feel sick.

You have no right to be upset, Evelyn Bennett. It happened before you even knew he existed, and besides, YOU rejected him!

But these thoughts did nothing to make her feel better, quite the opposite in fact, and she soon found herself pacing around the room, a frown on her face. She tried to recall if she’d even seen this girl before in person, but found she had no frame of reference. She actually hadn’t spoken to any Ravenclaw’s, not properly, but she vowed to keep an eye out for her once term started again.

Casting tempus, she was relieved to see she still had two hours to get ready before she had to meet her friends. She felt too distressed to even try and rehearse what she was going to say; she’d be honest and upfront when the time came, and they would have to deal with it.

Tom Riddle’s shadow loomed larger than she cared to admit, taking up most of the space in her mind. A thrill shot through her body - once lunchtime rolled round, it would be just them. Whatever she felt for Alaric was weak against the gravity of Tom, and she hated herself for it.

Evelyn briefly thought about Alphard and his lingering affections towards herself, and a new emotion slithered into her chest.

Shame.

Should she tell Harriet? What good would it do? Nothing had happened, and Evelyn had made her position clear long ago. It felt cruel to burden her friend with something that held no consequence. After all, there had been no stolen moments or promises, only a silent understanding between herself and Alphard; that if circumstances had been different, perhaps the outcome between them might have been different too. But Evelyn did not expect nor desire it to go any further than that. She could only hope he felt the same, and that alcohol had loosened his tongue, nothing more.

Evelyn caught Margaret on her way down to the carriages, calling her name across the Grand Staircase. She thanked her profusely for the dress, confessing that it had been a triumph at the party. Margaret had squealed knowingly, delighted, and even asked if she might write to Evelyn over the Christmas holidays - an invitation Evelyn could hardly refuse.

Another friend! She thought giddily, her trepidation at confessing she was staying at Hogwarts momentarily forgotten. They walked down together, conversing easily as if they had been friends all their lives. 

The anxiety returned in full force, however, once Margaret parted from her. Evelyn’s gaze found Adrian, Harriet, and Alaric waiting by a carriage not too far away. The morning air was sharp and clean as she crossed the frosted grass towards them, each step crunching beneath her feet.

“Hello.” Evelyn greeted them breathlessly, her stomach clenching when all three pairs of eyes dropped to her empty hands.

“Where’s your luggage?” Adrian questioned, his brows furrowing. Evelyn hesitated, and for a moment she almost thought about lying, but she knew it would be a mistake to do that. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.

“I’m not going home,” Her voice was firm, quiet, “I’m staying at the castle for Christmas.”

Silence fell, broken only by the groan of a carriage door opening nearby. Evelyn refrained from fidgeting, although she found she couldn’t meet any of her friends' eyes. She was afraid of what she’d find.

Harriet cleared her throat. “Well - that’s not too bad. I’ve heard Hogwarts is wonderful at Christmas.” Appreciation surged in Evelyn’s chest, her eyes flying up warmly at Harriet’s reaction.

“Staying at the castle, huh?” Adrian looked serious despite his light tone, “Any particular reason?”

They all knew it was because of Tom.

Evelyn felt a sting of hurt, followed by a flash of annoyance cutting through her chest. Why was she the one met with confusion and questions whenever Tom’s name arose? There was nothing romantic between them, yet every glance carried suspicion, every word felt like a probe. Harriet, on the other hand, seemed to have a budding romance with Alphard Nott - and the boys had, in the end, accepted it without the same level of scrutiny.

“You’re staying?” Alaric questioned, his voice raw with hurt. “Here…with him?” Evelyn flinched.

“It’s not like that.” She hastened to explain, suddenly desperate to have them understand her.

Adrian shifted uncomfortably, glancing between them. Harriet, who usually played peacemaker in situations like this, sighed quietly.

“I’ll write to you, Evie. I do hope you enjoy your Christmas. I can’t wait to hear all about it.” She swept forward, capturing her in a hug. She squeezed, as if trying to communicate her support, and Evelyn felt a fresh wave of gratefulness threaten to overtake her.

Adrian hesitated, glancing at Alaric before he too stepped forward to hug her.

He pulled back, arms still round her, “Just…stay safe. We’re only an owl away.” He looked her firmly in the eye, and Evelyn smiled back, relieved he wasn’t questioning her more. Adrian sent a loaded look to his friend, before he joined his sister in the carriage.

She still felt a slight twist of hurt - their goodbye’s had been brief, strained even. It was almost enough to make her question how solid their friendship was.

“Alaric,” Evelyn sighed gently, wanting to reach out to him, “it’s honestly not what you’re thinking.”

“Not what I’m thinking?” Alaric repeated incredulously, his voice loud. “After everything last night? After - ” He paused, colour rising in his cheeks, “Evelyn…we kissed. You kissed me back. I thought that meant something?”

“I’m not saying I regret it - ”

“But you’ll spend Christmas with him?” His voice cracked with hurt. “Do you understand how that feels? What it looks like?”

“It’s not romantic!” Evelyn exclaimed, reaching forward and grasping his hands in hers.

“You say it’s not romantic, yet you’re choosing him over me.”

The words were like a slap to her face.

“That isn’t fair,” She ground out, “it’s not choosing - ”

“It is,” He interrupted, shaking his head, “maybe not in the way you think, but it is. You say there’s nothing between the two of you, yet you reject me, and choose to spend Christmas with him.”

“Alaric, please. I never meant to hurt you.” Evelyn pleaded. She could feel the unwanted sting of tears pooling in her eyes. What a terrible way for them to part, she worried he wouldn’t want to be her friend anymore once he entered the carriage. What if none of them wanted anything to do with her after this?

Alaric sighed, whatever biting words he had dying on his lips. He looked away, his jaw tense, before he reluctantly drew her in for a strained hug. “You never mean to, Evie, but you do. And I’m the fool who keeps letting you.” He murmured this into her hair, kissing the top of her head almost angrily.

Evelyn clutched onto him, certain without a doubt that she couldn’t allow him to go until he understood.

“I know you don’t understand it,” She began, treading lightly, “but think about it this way…if it were you, and you were the only one staying behind with no family, no friends…wouldn’t you want someone there?”

Alaric blinked, caught off guard. “I…I suppose so.”

“That’s all it is. I’d do the same for you,” Her voice grew a little stronger, “and I hope you would do the same for me.” She reached up and tentatively held his face in her hands, blue eyes searching his green. They studied each other for a moment, before Alaric seemed to deflate, sighing.

“I forget how kind you are.” He muttered, though a mute smile appeared on his face. “I suppose I can understand your reasoning. It doesn’t make it any easier.”

“I know,” Evelyn hummed, her pounding heart finally settling down, “we’ll speak properly when you return. I promise.” She said it firmly, although it didn’t seem to brighten his spirits.

He only watched her, studying her face like he needed to memorise it before their time apart.

“Will you write?” Evelyn’s voice came out small.

Alaric bit his lip, a hand running through his hair as it usually did whenever he was frustrated.

“I don’t know.” He said finally, before he joined the twins in the carriage.

The common room was quiet when Evelyn finally entered. The fire was low, giving just enough light to paint the walls in a soft orange hue. The whole castle felt different now that the students had gone - airier somehow, as if the building itself had exhaled.

Tom was exactly where she expected him to be: seated in the tall-backed armchair in front of the fire, a book open on his knee, the flames dancing across his face.

“You’re back.” He said, without looking up. His voice carried the smooth certainty of someone who had already marked every sound of her arrival.

“I am.” Evelyn replied, her voice softened with sadness. She settled comfortably on the sofa, her legs curled under herself.

Tom finally looked up, tilting his head as he looked at her. “I can only assume the farewell was…dramatic.” His lips curved ever so slightly. “Blackwood, I presume?”

Evelyn let out a quiet laugh, her mood lightening in the face of Tom’s quiet jesting. They sat in comfortable silence, although Tom’s attention never returned to his book. She idly traced a circle into the armrest, her eyes fluttering up to meet Tom’s dark gaze.

“I must say,” She tilted her head with a small, playful smile, “I’m surprised you stayed for the entire party. You said an hour at most, yet you were the last to leave.”

He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepling lightly. “I find it difficult to leave when there are things worth observing.”

“Oh? Do share.” Evelyn teased. She adored these moments, when it was just the two of them - she loved the way they slipped back into their familiar rhythm, the easy conversations they had, even the quiet intimacy that needed no explanation.

“Some individuals…require far more attention than others.” 

“I’m intrigued. Are you speaking about me, or someone else I should be worrying about?”

Tom’s gaze lingered on her, dark and unreadable, his smirk disappeared. “Why would I speak of anyone else?” He asked smoothly, voice low and deliberate. “When someone as compelling as you requires my attention, the rest of the world becomes…secondary.”

Evelyn flushed at that, her eyes dropping immediately to the floor. Butterflies rushed through her as though she were a bottle of butterbeer someone had shaken. Tom reclined in satisfaction as he watched her cheeks turn pink.

She never knew what to make of it when he said things like that. From anyone else, it would have been obvious flirting - plain and simple. But with Tom, Evelyn couldn’t tell if he meant it or if he simply enjoyed watching her lose her composure.

Tom’s expression remained calm, but there was a faint tension in his shoulders as he spoke. “I should apologise for Dolohov’s behaviour last night. It was uncalled for.”

Evelyn blinked at the sudden change in topic.

“I appreciate the apology Tom, although it’s not yours for you to make.” Evelyn’s voice hardened, “I can’t understand why you’re even friends with him.”

He closed his book, discarding it to the side as he studied her.

“Relationships can be complicated, Evelyn. Not everything can be reduced to liking or trusting someone.”

Evelyn’s eyebrows raised. She crossed her arms, uncurling her legs so she could lean forwards.

“Complicated? That’s one way to put it. But being complicit in his actions, or even standing by whilst he causes trouble…that’s something else entirely. I’ve seen him terrorising students in the other houses.”

Tom’s face twitched, something akin to amusement dancing across his face. “Perhaps. But you should remember - everyone has their reasons for the company they keep. And not all of them are yours to judge.”

“So you’re saying you approve of his behaviour?” Evelyn challenged.

“Not at all,” Tom replied evenly, “I’m saying I choose my associations carefully. Dolohov serves his purpose. That doesn’t mean I condone everything he does.” He said this all smoothly, his eyes not once leaving Evelyn’s.

Purpose? She thought, the word striking her sharply. He speaks as if he is a tool to be wielded, and not a person. She hummed softly, a frustrated sound, once again reminded of her friends’ concerns about him.

They warned me about his influence…about his lack of conscience. And yet here he stands, so calm and composed, looking at me as if I should understand.

She smiled, confusion blossoming in her chest. “You speak of people like they’re chess pieces on a board.” She made the observation calmly, as if she were referring to an interesting passage in a book.

Tom’s eyes sharpened as they continued their back and forth. “Trust is subjective.” He said slowly. “And easily misjudged. You think in terms of right and wrong, as everyone does.” His lips curled here, perhaps in disappointment. “I think in terms of strategy.”

“Strategy doesn’t excuse cruelty.” She said quietly, a shiver of defiance running through her.

“No,” Tom agreed, eyes unwavering, “but it does dictate decisions. And not all decisions are meant to please everyone.”

She glanced at him, the tension between them more palpable than ever. For all his precision and control, there was a subtle undercurrent in the way he spoke - an almost imperceptible invitation for her to step closer, to see past the surface.

Evelyn’s chest tightened. Why does he make me want to understand him, when every instinct warns me not to?

She paused, battling with herself, wondering if she was ready to dive deeper into the mystery that was Tom Riddle. In the end she sighed, letting out a huff of laughter as she uncrossed her arms.

Not today. She decided.

“Thank you for apologising on his behalf, Tom. And thank you for sticking up for me.” She smiled sweetly, every word sincere, and the current that was vibrating between them lightened.

Tom inclined his head, he understood what had just happened; she wasn’t ready yet.

“Yes,” He continued lightly, “it was inappropriate, and I regret that you were made uncomfortable by it. That sort of conduct is unacceptable in my presence - or in yours.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the low crackle of the dying fire. Evelyn stole a quick glance at Tom, noting the tension in his shoulders beginning to ease. A mischievous thought crossed her mind, and a small, bright smile tugged at her lips, breaking the heaviness of the previous conversation.

“Well, it feels rather official now, doesn’t it? The Christmas holidays have finally begun!” Her smile was so radiant that Tom found himself unable to look away, and for the first time that day, it softened what would have been a measured response.

“Indeed,” He murmured, his voice almost grudgingly gentle, “the castle is ours.” He couldn’t help the subtle twist in his stomach at the sight of her unguarded excitement. He allowed a very brief smile of his own to appear in response.

“So, what does one do with an entire castle practically to themselves?” Evelyn asked playfully, crossing her legs.

Tom didn’t reply straight away, instead letting his gaze wander to the nearby window.

“A walk,” He said at last, “the grounds will be empty. It will be - “ He paused, grappling with the word as if it cost him something, “peaceful.”

Evelyn’s eyes lit up, delighted that Tom was making even a small gesture toward the holiday spirit.

“Yes, let’s! Before I get so comfortable I’m unable to move.” She ran up the dormitory stairs to get her scarf, leaving Tom to gather his own cloak and gloves. Tom shifted slightly as he waited for her, feeling an uncharacteristic flicker of tension. Not nerves - he did not stumble under scrutiny or doubt himself in the way most did - but this was uncharted territory, a space he had no map for. The idea of spending Christmas with someone, with her, stirred a quiet curiosity he had never allowed himself to entertain before.

He didn’t care for the sentimentality of the season, or the notion of warmth and laughter shared so freely, but a small, hidden part of him wondered what it might be like.

By the time Evelyn had returned, he was silent, not brooding, but quietly absorbed in his own thoughts. Evelyn smiled as she followed him down to the courtyard, astutely surmising that Tom may be feeling a little overwhelmed.

The castle was hushed as they stepped through its hallways, their footsteps echoing softly. When the large wooden doors opened, the world outside greeted them with a rush of sharp, cold air. Snow lay thick on the lawns, untouched, blanketing the grounds in white silence.

Evelyn inhaled deeply; her cheeks were already rosy from the cold. She skipped ahead a few steps, twirling in unabashed joy.

“It’s perfect!” She said breathlessly, eyes shining.

Tom’s eyes scanned the landscape before settling on her. “It is.” He admitted, his voice lacked its usual edge. Walking through the snow with his hands in his pockets, the tip of his nose red, Evelyn could only use one word to describe him.

Beautiful.

She blushed, striding ahead a little further as if she could outrun her embarrassment. Tom followed behind, his steps slower. Evelyn glanced back at him, a mischievous grin tugging at her lips.

It was now or never.

She bent quickly, scooping up a handful of snow and packing it lightly, and before Tom could speak -

Thwack!

The snowball caught him on the shoulder.

Tom stopped dead. Slowly, he turned towards her, eyebrows raised in incredulity.

“Did you just - ”

Evelyn had already gathered another snowball and thrown it his way, laughing freely when he leaned deftly to the side to avoid it.

“I did indeed. What are you going to do about it?” She teased, stepping back a few steps in mock-defence. For a long moment Tom stared at her, still as a statue. Then, with a faint exhale that might have been a laugh, he bent down and scooped up his own handful of snow.

Evelyn’s grin widened. “You wouldn’t.”

He cocked his head to the side, gaze locked on her. He smiled lazily, “Wouldn’t I?”

She squealed and darted sideways just as his throw arced through the air, striking the ground where she’d once stood.

“Unfair!” She cried, already gathering more snow. “You’re far too good at this.” She complained good-naturedly. 

”That,” He said, brushing his hair out of his eyes, “is because I don’t waste my aim.”

Her next snowball hit him squarely in the chest, breaking apart in a spray of white. Bursting into laughter, Evelyn trotted ahead, occasionally throwing more snow over her shoulder. Tom didn’t rush after her, but his precision made up for his steady pace - every time he threw, it either hit her or she barely managed to dance out of the way.

By the time he finally caught up to her, Evelyn had come to a standstill by the lake. An owl hooted in the distance as it took flight, leaving a letter clutched in her hand. She unfolded it, her fingers tightening slightly as she scanned the neat, clipped handwriting.

Dear Evelyn,

I wish you had informed me sooner that you would be staying at Hogwarts for the holidays. I have already bought far more food than necessary. Enjoy your holiday break.

Elizabeth

Evelyn tilted her head, re-reading the letter. It was to the point, polite, painfully formal - and it held absolutely none of the warmth she had half-expected from her aunt. She wasn’t looking for declarations of love, but something to indicate that she would be missed would have been nice. Perhaps to her aunt, she was nothing more than a logistical detail that had to be accounted for.

Tom, who had finally caught up to her, glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Something troubling you?” He asked. His voice was even, but there was the tiniest hint of curiosity threading through it.

Evelyn gave him a small smile, more out of habit than any amusement or joy. “It’s my aunt. She finally responded to my letter…it wasn’t exactly what I was expecting.” She held it out to him, watching as his eyes scanned the writing.

Tom’s gaze lingered on the letter for a beat longer than necessary. “I see,” He finally said, “and…are you disappointed?”

Evelyn pursed her lips, mulling over her answer. “A little. I expected something more…warm. I thought I’d at least be missed.” She laughed hollowly, crumpling the letter up and shoving it in her pocket.

They looped round the lake, the silence settling around them as it always did. Then Tom spoke, his voice measured and soft. “People express their feelings differently. Some rarely articulate it. Others prefer practicality to sentiment. It doesn’t necessarily mean it isn’t there.”

Evelyn smiled at him softly. Was he trying to comfort her? She felt a rush of affection towards him, and shuffled closer as they began to walk back to the castle. By the time they reached the dungeons, the warmth of the common room was a welcome relief from the chill outside.

Tom sank almost immediately into the chair he had occupied previously, summoning his book from the side table and opening it with the ease of ritual. His expression smoothed back into that cool mask, as though their walk had never even happened.

Evelyn, however, wasn’t ready to let the afternoon dissolve into silence. She hovered by the sofa, watching him for a moment, before she retrieved the wizard’s chess set by the windowsill and placed it on the floor in front of the fireplace. She sat down on the floor next to the sofa and prodded Tom’s leg.

“Really?” She questioned teasingly, propping her chin in her hand, “After all that, you’re just going to bury yourself in a book?”

Tom glanced at her, genuine puzzlement in his eyes, “What else would you suggest?” He spoke as though they had already exhausted every conceivable festive activity.

Evelyn gestured at the chess set before her. “How about wizard’s chess? We’ve never played with each other. Are you afraid I’ll win?”

His eyes narrowed, a small smirk twisting his lips. “I don’t play games I don’t intend to win.”

“Good,” She shot back, making herself more comfortable, “neither do I.”

With a sigh that was far too deliberate to be genuine, Tom closed his book and set it aside.

“You’re insufferable.” He murmured, but he was smiling.

“And you’re stalling.” She countered teasingly, setting up the pieces quickly.

Evelyn had half-expected him to reach down from his seat on the chair, or insist on a proper table, but instead Tom lowered himself onto the rug before the fire with a fluid, unhurried grace. He stretched one leg out, folding the other loosely, and for the first time she could remember he looked almost…relaxed.

She found herself staring longer than she should, struck by how handsome he was when he wasn’t shrouded in that constant air of restraint. Here, sitting cross-legged on the floor with the board between them, he looked downright approachable.

She came back to herself when she caught Tom looking at her knowingly, his smile replaced by a barely concealed smirk. She blushed, embarrassed at having been caught staring.

As the fire crackled beside them, they started to play. Evelyn was not surprised in the slightest that Tom was an exceptional chess player. She found herself laughing more than she expected, poking fun at his ‘overly dramatic’ captures. Tom, though outwardly composed, betrayed his engagement in the game through the sharp gleam in his eyes and the subtle curve of his lips whenever she made a clever move.

She tried not to notice how close he was sitting to her, or how intimate the scene felt.

“You’re not going easy on me, are you?” She teased, moving a pawn.

Tom laughed, low and easy, “If you expect mercy, you’ve chosen the wrong opponent.”

“Good, I’d hate for you to be predictable.” Evelyn started to play boldly, more intent on provoking a reaction rather than winning outright. Toms played with ruthless efficiency, pieces snapping forward like soldiers under his command.

“Do you always rush headlong without considering the cost?” Tom eventually asked. He had won the game, though Evelyn had no doubt that he would.

“Do you always act like every move is life or death?” She shot back, grinning.

“Everything is a game, Evelyn. Some are simply played for higher stakes.” His voice was smooth, but there was an edge beneath it. His gaze sharpened as he spoke, and Evelyn felt her breath catch under the weight of his words. There was always something unnerving about how easily he could turn the simplest statement into a challenge.

They played two more games, with Tom winning each one. As they concluded their final match, Evelyn muttered half under her breath; “Anyone else would have let me win at least once.” But her tone was light. She paused, stared at him, and then jumped up.

“Wait here. Don’t move.”

Tom raised an eyebrow, more curious than annoyed. He went to ask what she was up to, but she vanished from the common room without so much as a backward glance. He leaned back against the edge of the armchair, his fingers idly tracing the spine of his abandoned book, a flicker of amusement tugging at his mouth. What now?

He wasn’t sure why he waited, but he did. And when she finally returned fifteen minutes later, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. Evelyn entered with her wand outstretched, levitating two mugs of steaming hot chocolate in front of her. Each was crowned with a generous swirl of whipped cream and a delicate dusting of chocolate powder.

She smiled warmly, suddenly feeling a little shy. “Here you go.”

One mug floated neatly into his waiting hand. Tom took it automatically, though he didn’t raise it to his lips. Instead, he studied it intently, as though it were some foreign concoction he’d been asked to identify in class.

“I’ve never had hot chocolate before.” He remarked at last with detached interest.

Evelyn, already sipping from her own mug, nearly choked. “Never? You’ve been missing out, Tom. It’s practically Christmas in a cup.” She urged him to try it, smiling brightly.

Tom gave the mug a cautious swirl, watching the cream dissolve slowly into the dark liquid. For a long moment, he seemed almost reluctant, as though indulging in something so frivolous might tarnish his composure. Then, with deliberate care, he raised it to his lips and took a small sip.

The warmth spread instantly, rich and sweet, coating his tongue in a way he clearly hadn’t expected. His brow furrowed faintly, not with distaste, but with thought.

“It’s…tolerable.” He said at last, his tone contemplative. “I don’t usually seek out things this sweet.”

Evelyn laughed softly, curling her hands around her own mug. “That’s because you’ve been doing Christmas all wrong. Hot chocolate is a non-negotiable. Trust me.”

His eyes flicked to her over the rim of his cup, sharp even in the firelight. “So this is what I’ve been missing?” There was a dryness to his tone, but she caught the ghost of a smile at his lips.

“Exactly,” She said, beaming at him, “consider it our new tradition. You, me, and hot chocolate by the fire.” He didn’t comment on what she said, but he took another sip without further complaint, and to Evelyn that was all the response she needed.

Tom watched her over the rim of his mug, the firelight flickering across her face. Her hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, strands slipping loose to frame her features in a way that softened her expression. The oversized jumper she wore dwarfed her slightly, sleeves half covering her hands as she held onto her mug. She looked comfortable, entirely at ease, her eyes bright with laughter and warmth in a way that was disarming to him.

She wasn’t trying; there was no artifice in it, no deliberate charm. And yet, sitting there cross-legged on the rug, cheeks flushed from the fire and from smiling at him, she was…pretty. Striking, even.

You, me, and hot chocolate by the fire.

Her words rang in his ears, causing him to feel uncomfortable due to the feeling they inspired. It should have sounded trivial, childish even, yet something in the simple certainty of it made his chest feel warm. Tom told himself it was nothing more than the fire and the sweetness of the drink, but even he couldn’t lie to himself about this.

Without realising it, his shoulders had eased, and the rigid line of his posture softened as he seemed to melt into the floor. Evelyn caught the change, though she chose to remain quiet, simply choosing to enjoy the moment.

They remained on the floor, with Evelyn stoking the fire as the bright sky outside slowly turned dark. Tom had returned his attention to his book, although he wasn’t really reading it, not properly. Evelyn had been staring at the fire for a long time before she finally spoke.

“My parents died when I was little.”

Tom’s eyes lifted from the book, expression steady. “I know.”

Of course he knew.

Evelyn gave a soft huff, almost a laugh, though there was no humour in it. She twirled a strand of hair round her finger, glancing off to the side.

“It took a toll on my aunt, losing her sister. She was…never the maternal type. She’s a healer, and a skilled one at that - she’s pretty much dedicated her life to St Mungo’s.” Evelyn sighed, wondering where she was going with this. “She just wasn’t suited to raise a child.”

Tom didn’t interrupt, though something faint flickered across his face at her choice of words.

“She tried, in her own way,” Evelyn continued thoughtfully, “She home-schooled me, as per my parents wishes. She kept me occupied, and I learnt a lot. But she’s always been more comfortable with patients than people. We never close.”

“And you had no friends?” Tom asked, though not unkindly. His voice was carefully blank, and if Evelyn wasn’t used to it she would have felt hurt at how closed off he sounded.

She blushed, a little nervous at finally confessing it out loud to someone.

“No. I didn’t have much chance to interact with other children, and when I did, they all seemed…different. They laughed together, played games, squabbled and made up. I never knew how to fit in. It’s the one thing I found most overwhelming about Hogwarts.” She chanced a glance over at Tom, knowing his expression would be undecipherable. “A whole castle of people who seemed to speak a language I didn’t.”

Evelyn didn’t know why she was saying all these things to Tom. She continued, her tone lighter.

“It’s different now. I have Adrian, Harriet, Alaric…I have you.” She said it softly, as if it might vanish into the fire if she dared to speak any louder.

Tom considered her, then at last he spoke. “I can hardly be compared to the others.”

“No…you’re not like anyone else.” Even wasn’t even sure herself what she meant by that, but she knew, deep down, that it was true. Tom wasn’t like anyone else at all. He was precise where others were careless, quiet where others shouted, calculating where others acted on impulse. There was a coolness to him, a restraint that made his rare glimpses of warmth feel all the more worth it. The way he observed the world, measured people, weighed words - it was alien, compelling, and utterly captivating.

As she looked at him now, watching the subtle relaxation in his posture and the way his eyes never left hers, a sudden clarity struck her. The near constant butterflies, the seemingly permanent blush she seemed to wear when he was around, the way her stomach would twist when she caught sight of him - it was more than admiration or curiosity.

She had feelings for him.

It wasn’t a revelation that knocked her off balance. On the contrary, it made a quiet sort of sense, like a truth she had always known but hadn’t dared to name.

She didn’t feel flustered or uncertain. She simply understood. Her feelings weren’t sudden, nor were they born from a passing whim. They had been there, growing quietly beneath the surface, waiting for a moment like this to be acknowledged. Evelyn allowed herself a moment to simply sit with this newfound knowledge. It was obvious, really, now that she thought about it: she cared for Tom Riddle, and she probably had done so for a while now.

Evelyn decided then and there that she wouldn’t act on her feelings. Tom had made it plain to all who existed within the castle that he wasn’t interested in a relationship, and she had no desire to complicate matters or risk the careful balance of their friendship.

She would carry her feelings quietly, letting them exist without letting them dictate her actions. She would laugh at his teasing, match his strategic moves at chess, walk beside him in silence by the lake - all the things she had always done - without allowing her heart to cloud her judgement.

It wasn’t denial, nor repression. She chose to view it as being considerate. Evelyn valued him too much to force something that wasn’t meant to be, and she would honour the bond they already shared. She could feel the warmth of her own affection quietly settling into her chest, a private comfort she would keep to herself, allowing it to exist in the soft spaces between them, unspoken but undiminished.

Hopefully they’ll fade with time…and maybe, when the time is right, I can pursue something with Alaric.

She shook her head, pushing the thought aside. One thing at a time. She lifted her eyes to look at Tom, smiling ruefully.

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this. You probably think it’s pathetic.”

Tom regarded her coolly, his eyes betraying that he had been listening much more than she gave him credit for.

“I think,” Tom said quietly, “you underestimate how much people reveal when they speak freely.” He paused, then almost smiled. “And how useful it can be.”

Evelyn rolled her eyes, laughing. “Trust you to turn it into an advantage.”

His silence stretched, then; “I don’t think it’s pathetic.”

The words hung there, startling in their simplicity.

“Thank you.” She murmured, feeling warm all over. She gave him a small smile and turned back to the fire. She had shifted so her back was against the sofa, much closer to Tom than when she had been sitting opposite him. She could almost feel his body heat mingling with the warmth from the fire. It made the space between them feel smaller, safer even.

For the next few minutes, she let her thoughts sort themselves out in her head, assuming the conversation had ended. Then his voice cut through the silence, lower than usual and quieter.

“I grew up in an orphanage.”

Evelyn turned her head sharply, surprised. Tom almost never offered pieces of himself like this. His tone was flat, clinical, but his eyes were fixed on the fire with a sharpness that betrayed the weight behind his words.

“It was poor. Grey. The kind of place that saps colour from the walls, and from the people within.” He paused, testing whether to go on. “I didn’t fit in there either. The other children knew there was something different about me.” He smiled darkly, a distant memory replaying in his mind. “They were right, of course. They avoided me, or tried to make me feel small. It never worked.”

Evelyn’s throat tightened. She could imagine a little Tom, dark-eyed and solitary, set apart even amongst the forgotten.

“You didn’t have friends?” Evelyn asked softly, her voice tentative.

He stared at her, as if he were weighing the cost of honesty. Finally, he found his voice again.

“No. I didn’t want them.” He paused, eyes darting to her again. “Or perhaps I didn’t know how. I learned quickly that people…disappoint.”

For the first time, Evelyn thought she saw not just Tom Riddle’s control and calculation, but the edges of something raw and hidden - not weakness, but more a wound that had never healed.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Was all she could offer, and it was true, she was.

Tom’s expression hardened instantly, although it didn’t seem aimed at her.

“Don’t be. It made me stronger. I had no one to depend on but myself, and I prefer it that way.” His eyes glittered with sharp conviction, his hands tightening around his long empty mug.

Evelyn sighed, tilting her head back. “Still, it must have been lonely.” She let the words float out, achingly soft and gentle.

Tom didn’t reply for a long moment, a frown marring his face.

“Sometimes.” His response was equally as quiet, and Evelyn simply nodded, understanding more than she could put into words. Tom had let her glimpse the boy he had been, a child who had once existed alone in a grey orphanage, unwanted and unseen.

Evelyn felt overwhelmed from his quiet admissions, her chest tightening at the rare crack in his armour. Before she could overthink it, she shuffled round until her arm brushed his.

Tom went still. He didn’t move away or rebuke her, so slowly, carefully, Evelyn let her head tip against his shoulder. She waited for the inevitable stiffening, or for him to physically snatch himself away from her - but he didn’t. He allowed her to linger.

The fire’s glow washed over them, the silence oddly fragile. Tom shifted, and Evelyn wondered - foolishly - if he might lean into her as well. Instead, he straightened, moving his shoulder just enough that her head slipped from it. It wasn’t done in anger, nor harshly, just his usual calculated precision.

The sudden absence made her blink up at him.

His face was unreadable again, all warmth shuttered behind that cool, impenetrable mask. “You should get some rest.” He said evenly, as though nothing had passed between them at all.

The words were soft, but final.

Evelyn’s chest squeezed, yet she only nodded, forcing a small smile. She knew better than to push.

Still, as she gathered her things and moved toward the stairs, she couldn’t shake the flicker of something she had felt in him…a moment of allowance, fleeting but real.

And though Tom had withdrawn behind his walls once more, Evelyn suspected he was just as unsettled by that moment as she was.

Chapter Text

The Slytherin common room felt different in the harsh light of morning. The golden glow of the fireplace that had wrapped them in warmth the night before now seemed ordinary, mundane even. Evelyn had woken up earlier than usual, excited to see what the day would bring. Their shared winter walk from the day before, followed by their cosy afternoon together, had been a perfect beginning to the Christmas holidays.

Evelyn had bounced her way down the stairs, smiling when she caught sight of Tom already up and waiting for her; he was perched upright on the edge of a chair, his posture impeccable, his expression unreadable. The closeness and ease of the night before felt like a distant memory, almost as though it hadn’t happened at all.

She suddenly grew uncertain and stopped short, fiddling with her jumper.

“Good morning, Tom.” She said softly, resisting the urge to rock on her feet.

“Good morning.” Tom replied, his tone flat. Everything screamed that he was fully in control. He stood up fluidly, adjusting his scarf nonchalantly.

“So…what’s the plan for today?” Evelyn asked brightly, falling into step with him as they walked down to breakfast. Any hopes she’d had for a hint of spontaneity was dwindling in the face of his carefully maintained composure.

Tom considered her for a moment, tilting his head just enough for her to catch the shadow of thought passing over his features. “I’m going to read in the library,” He said finally, “you’re welcome to join me, if you’d like.”

Evelyn sighed to herself, although she nodded her head in agreement. The library. Of course. Books and silence were Tom’s natural habitat, after all.

Looks like I’m getting the safe, controlled version of Tom today. Evelyn thought morosely.

Breakfast was a quiet, muted affair, despite the garish decorations that decorated the Great Hall. They ate almost entirely in silence, Tom seemingly intent on looking anywhere but at the dark-haired witch opposite him. Evelyn busied herself with plans to send her friends their presents by owl and made a mental note to write to Margaret as well, letting her mind flit between small tasks to fill the stillness between them.

Tom placed his cutlery neatly on top of his empty plate, looking off somewhere to the side as he waited for Evelyn to finish. She took a slow sip of her hot chocolate, letting the mug warm her hands.

“Are you finished?” She asked softly.

Tom gave a curt nod, finally making eye contact with her. “Shall we go?”

Evelyn swallowed the words she wanted to say - suggesting a walk, or some other activity - and instead followed behind with a polite smile. She kept a careful distance from him as they walked quietly through the empty halls, careful not to burst the bubble of ice he’d surrounded himself in.

I can’t have offended him that much last night, by simply resting my head against him? She wondered, matching his pace. Evelyn bit the inside of her cheek in quiet frustration, feeling exasperated with his mood swings.

By the time they reached the library, Evelyn’s mood had grown tense, teetering on the edge of impatience, as if she might have turned away and left him to his solitude. Back when their relationship was tentative and new, she would have respected his retreat without question, but she’d gotten to know Tom well enough - including his bursts of warmth - that the status quo was no longer enough for her.

The library was colder than Evelyn had expected too, adding to her growing misery. The sunlight slanting through the windows did little to warm the long rows of shelves or the polished wooden tables. They sat at their usual table near the restricted section, Evelyn watching in surprise and Tom slipped in there immediately.

She wasn’t one to complain about studying, or reading. She liked having the quiet focus and the feeling of accomplishment as she worked through a problem, but still…she would have preferred to wait until after Christmas to begin.

Tom settled into his chair, opening his book without a word. The quiet of the library pressed around them, and Evelyn shivered, huddling into herself against the cold draft that seemed to snake between the shelves. She pulled her arms around her chest, trying to ignore the ache of both the chill and the emotional distance between them.

Minutes passed in almost suffocating silence, each second marked only by the faint rustle of pages. Evelyn’s gaze drifted across the room, but she kept returning to Tom, having nothing better to do than study him.

Finally, with a resigned sigh, Tom loosened the scarf from around his neck.

“Here.” He murmured, draping it across Evelyn’s shoulders. He did so gently, the gesture carrying unspoken consideration. She blinked, warmth blooming in her chest.

“Thank you.” She said sincerely, pulling it snugly around herself. She couldn’t help but take a deep breath, her senses completely overwhelmed with his smell. Tom returned to his book, but Evelyn noticed how the action caused him to relax; he sank back into the chair, the lines of his face softening in silent concession.

Knowing better than to speak immediately, Evelyn allowed herself to get comfortable, her eyes eventually starting to droop in the comfortable silence.

“Have you ever thought that your life might leave no mark at all? That, in the grand scheme of things… it could simply fade?” Tom’s voice was low and cut through the silence, startling Evelyn back into full wakefulness.

Evelyn considered him, recognising by the tone of his voice that he was perhaps preparing for a debate with her - or that he was interested in her viewpoint.

“I suppose I’ve thought about it,” She said slowly, choosing each word carefully, “sometimes, I worry that I won’t do enough, or that the things I care about won’t really matter in the long run.” She glanced at him, trying to read his expression, but he gave nothing away, as always.

“And you?” She prodded, “do you worry about that?”

Tom cocked his head to the side, a glint in his eye. “I am concerned with…erasure.” He settled upon.

Evelyn frowned, shifting in her seat. “Erasure?”

“The kind that comes from a life spent unnoticed, from mediocrity.”

Evelyn let out a beautiful, quiet laugh. “Oh Tom, you are anything but mediocre, if that’s what you’re worried about. You’re the most talented wizard I know.”

Tom’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles, the first one of the day. “Talent,” He murmured, voice low and measured, “means very little if it isn’t put to use. And even then…it doesn’t guarantee anything lasts. But thank you, Evelyn.” His eyes flicked to hers for the briefest moment, a hint of warmth behind them.

Evelyn hummed. “Mediocrity is just fear dressed up as ambition. Everyone leaves a mark - friends, children, the people you meet - that’s how you leave a legacy, by the people who remember you.”

He let out a quiet scoff, closing his book. “Convenient sentimentality. Time swallows memories whole. Legacy is not what people recall; it is what endures beyond recollection. It’s how you leave your mark on the world.”

Evelyn was intrigued to hear the passionate fire in his voice as he spoke, looking more animated than he had all morning, more so than she had ever seen him in fact.

“I have no doubt you’ll achieve this, and more.” Evelyn said kindly, touching his arm in sincerity. He glanced down at where her hand had lingered, his expression cooling. He looked up at her again, his gaze sharp and calculating, weighing up how much to reveal.

“I intend to. That is why I spend my time studying that which outlasts the ordinary. Not merely history or knowledge, but the mechanics of permanence itself. How to extend influence, perhaps even existence, beyond the fragile span of a single lifetime.”

Evelyn’s pulse quickened with trepidation, her mind putting two and two together. Was this what Tom and his friends discussed when they had their private meetings? No matter which way she considered it, it didn’t feel right.

“And what has your research revealed?” Evelyn asked cautiously.

Tom leaned back slightly in his chair, his eyes dark with intensity, the kind that always made Evelyn feel simultaneously drawn in and wary.

“It has revealed that most things considered permanent are fleeting in ways we refuse to acknowledge.” He said evenly. “Monuments crumble. Stories are forgotten. Even the strongest magic eventually wanes. Endurance requires more than effort or skill - it requires understanding the principles that govern life itself, the delicate threads that hold existence together, and how they might be…preserved beyond their natural end.”

Evelyn’s throat tightened. There was a chill to his words, a cold logic that made her uneasy, yet she couldn’t look away. “That sounds dangerous,” She acknowledged neutrally, “that kind of knowledge that can change everything…or destroy it.”

Tom’s lips curved into a hint of a smile, but it was more amusement than sharp. “Danger is relative.” He said softly. “Knowledge is not inherently perilous. It is the choices one makes with it that shape the world.”

Evelyn didn’t immediately speak, letting their eye contact remain unbroken.

“I think I understand, Tom.” Evelyn murmured softly, and in some ways she did. After hearing him speak about his upbringing in the orphanage - how lonely it was, how unseen he must have been, and how he learned to rely on no one but himself, Evelyn could entirely understand the relentless drive to prove himself, the type of drive that came from never having a place to belong.

Tom seemed satisfied with her answer, because he reclined back in his chair, returning to his book once more. Evelyn politely excused herself, feeling a little overwhelmed from the intensity of their conversation.

She took her time wandering over to the owlery, deciding to post her friends’ presents. She also scribbled out nearly identical letters, asking them how it felt to be home, what their plans were, and saying that she missed them. To Margaret she wrote a simple letter, inviting her to continue the exchange if she wished, not wanting to pressure her.

It feels strange to send presents to someone other than my aunt. Evelyn reflected, watching as the owls lifted up into the air one by one. It was comforting as well though, a way for her to stay close despite their distance.

For Alaric, she’d chosen a set of Quidditch broom cleaning supplies which included a polish that made brooms storm-resistant, and a handle balm that smelled of cedarwood. She was a little nervous, unsure if he would respond to her letter or not. She wasn’t sure what she’d do if he ignored her.

Harriet’s package was thicker, bound with green ribbon. Evelyn had found a magical plant journal that enchanted itself to sprout little sketches of leaves and blossoms in the margins whenever something new was written. She was sure Harriet would appreciate it when the new school term started.

And for Adrian, she couldn’t resist a box of enchanted sweets; sherbet drops that made one’s voice echo like they were in a cave, chocolate that made your ears whistle like a kettle, and sugared jellies that changed the eater’s hair colour temporarily. 

Finally, she fingered the present she’d bought for her aunt. It wasn’t much - just a slim, leather bound book of advanced healing charms, annotated by a mediwitch Evelyn had heard her mention in passing, and a pair of soft slippers - but she had agonised over it longer than all the others.

Evelyn had mulled over what Tom had said out by the tree. She supposed that although her aunt wasn’t overt in showing her affection, her actions did show she cared; perfectly brewed potions left on her bedside table when was ill, the quiet insistence that she eat her breakfast every morning…she could only hope the care she’d put into all the presents showed how much she appreciated the people in her life.

Evelyn stopped at the Great Hall for a spot of lunch, not realising how peckish she had grown since breakfast. She felt a little lonely, surprised with how much she missed Tom’s presence. She noticed that she still had his scarf wrapped around her neck, and decided she’d bring him back a snack and return it.

Just as she had surmised, Tom hadn’t moved from his spot in the library; he was nearly hidden behind an ever-growing stack of books.

“This is becoming a habit.” Evelyn said in amusement, placing a neatly wrapped pumpkin pasty in front of him.

Tom looked up from his book, one dark eyebrow raised. “Habit?”

“Yes.” She replied, ignoring the way her heart leapt at how handsome he was. He smiled faintly in response, unwrapping the pasty slowly. “I usually end up rescuing you from your more academic pursuits with food.”

“Usually?” Tom questioned in amusement, “this would only be the second time.”

Evelyn smiled, perching herself on the edge of the table next to him. “You’ve been sitting here for hours now! The pasty might be the only thing keeping you sane - or at least awake.”

Tom let out a short, quiet laugh. “I am quite capable of remaining awake without…pumpkin pasties.” He replied evenly, although a lingering grin remained on his face.

“I’m sure you are, but I imagine it’s far less enjoyable.” Evelyn teased. She delicately wrapped his scarf back around his neck, willing her hands to keep steady as her fingers gently brushed his neck. He froze at the contact, shifting a little in his seat.

“Perhaps…although the right company makes it more bearable.” It was Evelyn’s turn to shuffle in surprise, an embarrassed flush creeping up her neck. She giggled, surprised by his boldness, letting the playful edge give way to something more genuine. She leaned forward, her voice warmer.

“Tom, would you accompany me to Hogsmeade? I haven’t been by myself before and…I’d really like it if we could go together.”

His expression softened ever so slightly at her sincerity, and he cast a tempus to check the time.

“See? It’s only just gone past twelve. We still have the whole afternoon to enjoy the day!” Evelyn exclaimed, a cautiously optimistic smile on her lips.

Tom examined his books and his stack of notes, a thoughtful look on his face. “It could serve as a welcome change of scenery…and an opportunity to stretch my legs.” He reasoned out loud. Evelyn beamed - unless Tom gave an outright no, then it usually meant it was a yes.

“Exactly that,” Evelyn encouraged, twirling her hair, “it will be much more fun if we go together.”

He considered her for a long moment, then inclined his head, the barest flicker of a smile appearing at the corner of his lips. “Very well. I will accompany you.”

“How wonderful! Then let’s go before I get too excited!” She helped him replace the books, her grin firmly planted on her face the whole time. Tom couldn’t help but notice, her smile grudgingly lifting his spirit.

“I suppose I’m at your mercy.” He said dryly, pleased when she let out a rich laugh.

“And you’ll survive,” Evelyn replied, her voice warm and teasing, “I promise.”

With that, they left the library side by side, the sparkling snow and the lure of Hogsmeade’s holiday charms drawing them forward.

Snow fell in lazy flurries over the village, dusting rooftops and drifting down into cobbled lanes. The air was sharp and cold, the kind that bit at one’s cheeks and turned breath into little clouds of white. Evelyn pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders as she stepped off the path with Tom at her side.

Shopfronts were dressed in wreaths of holly and ivy, candles glowed in every window, and the warm, spiced scent of butterbeer hung in the air. The street was relatively busy, with wizards and witches hurrying to-and-fro to finish any last minute shopping.

Evelyn boldly linked their arms together, silent in her triumph when he didn’t pull away. She glanced at him, eyes sparkling with unadulterated joy. He couldn’t help but smile back, her enthusiasm was infectious.

“Do you usually come down here, when you stay over the holidays?” She asked breathlessly, gently tugging Tom down the street.

Tom shook his head once, a short and deliberate gesture. “No.”

She raised her brows, surprised. “Never?”

“Never.” He repeated, his tone clipped, as though the matter hardly warranted discussion. His gaze lingered on the crowd, assessing and not admiring. “There’s little reason to.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Evelyn replied good-naturedly, “It’s beautiful.” She gestured at the brightly decorated shops, smiling when Tom shook his head with a huffed laugh and sigh.

“You mistake garish decoration for beauty.” Was all he offered, though the pleasant twist of his lips revealed he was mainly jesting.

“Don’t pretend you don’t see the charm in it.” Evelyn teased. “You’re not made of stone, Tom.”

He didn’t reply, instead allowing her to press closer to him as the crowd thickened near the village centre. They passed Honeydukes, the window piled high with peppermint humbugs and toffees wrapped in gold. The air around the door was sweet enough to make her mouth water. She stopped short.

“We must go in.” Evelyn declared.

Tom arched an eyebrow. “You’re aware that’s a shop for children.”

“Children!” She echoed, scandalised. “I suppose you never set foot in there, either?”

“Correct.”

“Tragic,” She tossed back, pushing the door open before he could refuse. Warmth spilled out, along with the thick scent of chocolate. Inside, shelves overflowed with every sweet imaginable, making Evelyn’s eyes go wide.

She drifted between displays whilst Tom followed at a more leisurely pace, expression carefully neutral. She picked up a box of sugar quills and waved it at him.

“You’re telling me you’ve never tried one of these?”

“I don’t make a habit of chewing on ink substitutes.” He replied smoothly.

She threw her head back and laughed, tucking the box back in its place. “You’re impossible.”

A few minutes later they stepped back out into the cold, a small bag of peppermint creams clutched in her hand. Evelyn unwrapped one and popped it into her mouth before holding the bag out to him.

Tom regarded it as though it were a test. For a moment she thought he might refuse, but at last he plucked one between two fingers, and slipped it past his lips. Evelyn waited with quiet expectation for his response, but he simply remained silent, his expression unchanging. Evelyn grinned when he didn’t spit it out.

“See? Not so terrible.”

He glanced at her. “I didn’t say it was terrible.”

Which, from Tom, was practically effusive.

They continued down the main street until the frosted windows of the Three Broomsticks came into view, golden light spilling across the snow outside. Evelyn’s steps quickened.

“Let’s go in.” She urged, pulling Tom by their linked arms. There was a small group of friends standing outside, all of them holding festive butterbeers, and the sight of the drink topped with cream and sprinkles tickled her tastebuds.

Tom hesitated, resisting slightly. “It will be crowded.”

“All the better! It’s warm inside. You can scowl at people from the corner whilst I enjoy myself.”

He allowed her to pull him through the door. The pub was bustling, alive with laughter and chatter, the smell of butterbeer mingling with smoke from the hearth. They found a small booth tucked against the wall which Tom found acceptable, and they settled in, with Evelyn electing to sit next to him rather than opposite.

She ordered two Christmas butterbeers before Tom could object, ignoring the scowl he sent her way. When the tankards arrived, she pushed one toward him.

He eyed it with distaste, his nose crinkling. “I don’t drink this.”

“Neither do I, yet here we are! Will you at least try it with me?” She nudged him gently, smiling expectantly. Once again Tom found himself huffing in protest, though his fingers eventually curled around the mug regardless.

Evelyn took a long sip of hers, the warm, butterscotch and cream coating her mouth.

She sighed in pleasure, “It’s delicious, just try it.”

Tom hesitated, glancing around as if he feared being recognised. Finally, he raised the mug and drank. The faintest crease appeared between his brows - not in displeasure, but more like consideration. He set it down, licked his lips, then took another sip.

“Well?” Evelyn pressed.

“It’s tolerable.”

She laughed, the sound bright in the noisy pub. “High praise, coming from you.” She teased, relaxing against the back of the booth.

I wish he’d put his arm around me. She blushed at the thought, pushing it out of her head before she started getting silly ideas.

They sat comfortably, Evelyn talking in her quiet yet animated way about the shops, about Christmases past with her aunt, and about the little things she loved about the season. Tom listened, silent but attentive, his gaze steady on her face. He offered dry comments now and then, eliciting giggles and bursts of laughter when appropriate.

She eventually coaxed Tom into talking about himself, asking him if he’d ever wanted a pet, what his dream holiday abroad would be, and other inane questions that he couldn’t help but find charming, much to his surprise.

Eventually, they decided it was time to head back to the castle. Tom paid for the drinks and Evelyn blushed, teasingly calling him a gentleman. They started the long walk back, where Evelyn felt comfortable enough to link their arms again. She leaned in and gave him a half squeeze, withholding her chuckle as he stiffened up as usual.

“Peppermint cream?” She offered out the back, jiggling them when he tried to ignore it.

He gave her a sidelong glance. “Again?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t like it.”

With the smallest of sighs, he took one. Their fingers brushed in the exchange - brief, accidental, but enough for her heart to skip. She didn’t let it show.

When the castle gates came into view, she glanced at him again. “So,” She said lightly, drawing to a stop, “if I suggested another Hogsmeade trip in the future, would you want to go?”

His dark eyes flicked to hers, then back to the looming towers of Hogwarts. His answer was simple, almost careless - and yet it carried weight.

“Perhaps.”

Evelyn beamed and threw her arms around him in a brief, heartfelt hug, pressing against him just enough to feel the warmth radiating from him. She rested her cheek lightly against his chest, savouring the contact.

Tom stiffened for the tiniest moment before relaxing, allowing the hug to linger. He half raised his hands and they hovered near Evelyn’s back, though he made no move to touch her. Simply permitting the closeness was sufficient enough.

When she finally pulled back, she caught the faintest twitch of his lips and the brief, deliberate lift of his eyebrows; small gestures that spoke volumes if one knew how to read them.

It was the closest he would come to admitting he’d enjoyed himself. And for Evelyn, it was enough.

The days at Hogwarts slipped by in a quiet rhythm; each morning gilded by sunlight spilling through frosted windows, and each evening lit by the common room fire. Evelyn moved through them with the ease of familiarity, yet always aware of Tom beside her, his presence constant and steadying. Soon, Evelyn couldn’t imagine not being with him.

Their afternoons passed with startling closeness; sometimes they revised in the library, and other times they sat on the sofa and read together in companionable silence. More often than not, the evenings stretched long into the night, with quiet conversation lingering, neither quite willing to let the day end.

They wandered the castle grounds as it snowed. Evelyn made snow angels by the lake whilst Tom stood slightly apart, hands tucked into his cloak, watching her with a subtle intensity, as if analysing the way she laughed or how she moved.

As Christmas neared, they explored the hidden corners of Hogwarts, wandering down shadowed corridors and peeking into unused classrooms, with Tom giving a running commentary as they went. They laughed quietly when one of them startled a portrait, and Tom allowed himself a rare ease, matching Evelyn’s light-hearted curiosity with his own sharp wit and relaxed manner.

Sometimes they paused in empty hallways, leaning against cold stone walls, sharing stories or whispered observations. Other times, they lingered by the castle’s lesser-known windows, watching the snow drift silently across the grounds. Even in these quiet moments, there was a sense of something unspoken between them, a gentle deepening of their friendship that neither quite knew how to navigate.

Between their shared adventures and quiet afternoons together, Evelyn made a point of keeping up with her friends through letters. Even though Alaric never replied, she refused to let it dampen her festive spirit, instead choosing to enjoy the holiday instead of worrying over him.

Tom’s carefully maintained mask of indifference had begun to slip - just barely. Small smiles remained longer than he intended, and his eyes strayed toward her when he thought she wouldn’t notice. Each subtle crack betrayed what he would never confess aloud: that he was, quietly and almost reluctantly, enjoying himself.

For the first time in his memory, Tom Riddle found himself looking forward to Christmas day.

Chapter Text

Bold

The Slytherin common room glowed with an unusual warmth that Christmas Eve, the fire in the grate burning low and steady, casting rippling shadows across the stone walls.

They had passed the day in their usual fashion - reading by the fire, wandering down to the Black Lake, even playing another round of wizard’s chess with steaming mugs of hot chocolate in hand. Yet beneath the familiar rhythm of their companionship, there lingered a subtle current of anticipation, an expectation that tomorrow was Christmas. Evelyn could hardly sit still, not having felt this kind of excitement since she was a child.

They had just returned from dinner in the Great Hall when Evelyn stopped short, her breath taken away by the change in the common room. In the short time they had been away, the house-elves had worked their magic: a towering Christmas tree now stood proudly in the corner, its branches glittering with charmed icicles and green and silver baubles.

The rest of the common room had been suitably decorated as well; there were sprigs of holly, tinsel, and a multitude of decorations that made the common room appear welcoming and warm.

“Wow.” Evelyn breathed, rooted to the spot. Tom raised a single, unimpressed eyebrow as he moved past her into the room, barely sparing the decorations a glance.

“They do it every year.” Tom said by way of explanation.

“They?”

“The house elves. It’s nothing to fuss over.”

Evelyn hummed in response, her eyes drawn to the tree. It was much more lavish and over the top than the humbly decorated tree she was used to at home. She couldn’t understand why Tom seemed so indifferent - surely someone who had grown up in a sparse, grey orphanage would be enchanted by the smallest Christmas display.

“I’ll be right back.” Evelyn suddenly murmured, her cheeks bright pink. Tom regarded her curiously as he sat on the sofa, his eyes following her as she disappeared up the stairs. A minute or two later she returned, a neatly wrapped parcel clutched nervously in her hands. With a shy glance over her shoulder, she gently placed her gift for him beneath the tree. She expected nothing in return; it felt enough simply to give.

For a long while, Tom said nothing, and Evelyn found his silence unbearable, wondering what was going through his head in despair and embarrassment. The only sound was the occasional crackle of the fire.

Tom calmly closed his book and crossed the room, disappearing upstairs to his own dormitory. Evelyn put her head in her hands, ruing the day she had purchased him a gift.

I knew I shouldn’t have gotten him anything - as if Tom Riddle is the type to do gifts. Evelyn thought morosely. She sighed and sat up, shrugging to herself. At the end of the day, her aunt had taught her that manners matter, and to always be kind without expecting anything in return. So what if Tom -

The prefect in question reappeared, silently heading towards the tree with his own neatly wrapped package. Evelyn couldn’t help but stare, the heat in her cheeks renewed at the sight.

Tom Riddle had bought her a Christmas present.

Evelyn’s heart lifted, pleased in a way she hadn’t expected.

Tom glanced at her sharply, a stern look on his face that said, ‘don’t say anything’. A smile tugged at her lips, but she kept quiet, instead choosing to wander around the common room, examining the decorations closely.

“You’re very quiet.” She remarked, glancing at her friend. He looked up from his book, his hair catching a glow from the fire.

“It’s a quiet night,” He admitted, “perfect for reading.”

“You’ve been quiet all day, in fact. Is something wrong?” Evelyn asked softly, concern lacing her voice.

Tom’s lips quirked. “I’ve merely been observing.” There was a faint softness in his gaze, making her chest flutter pleasantly. As she moved to sit next to him on the sofa, something caught her eye, glinting from the top of a book shelf. Frowning, she summoned it into her hands, surprised when out flew a small, nondescript bottle of firewhiskey.

“What on earth? How did this end up here?” She wondered, folding her legs up beneath her.

Tom examined it before smirking. “Rosier has his methods. A few well-placed bribes to the older students…and a bottle like this appears. How do you think he procured alcohol for the Slytherin party?”

“Oh.” Evelyn was impressed. “I can’t believe he’s been managing to do this for years!”

Tom smiled, “It requires discretion, luck…and the fact that Slughorn turns a blind eye to the annual party certainly helps.”

Evelyn chuckled quietly before her eyes darted over to Tom’s, sparkling with mischief. Tom raised his eyebrows in response.

“No - ” He started to say, but Evelyn had already summoned two small glasses. She poured two decent sized measures into them and swirled the amber liquid, before handing one over to Tom. He surveyed her for a moment, before rolling his eyes and accepting it.

They eventually settled on the floor, sitting close enough that their knees nearly touched, the warmth from the flames mingling with the warmth between them.

“For courage?” Evelyn asked softly, smiling sweetly at him.

Tom raised his own glass, “For observation.” He replied evenly, and they clinked glasses before taking a sip. Evelyn idly wondered just what this ‘observation’ was that Tom kept speaking of, but she didn’t ask, instead training her eyes on the flames and not on the handsome wizard beside her.

They drank in silence, the fire crackling beside them. Evelyn stole glances at him, heart racing at how natural it felt to sit this close. She wished she could lean on him, but she didn’t want to push her luck too much. Tom, for his part, didn’t look uncomfortable at all. He sat, calm as ever, sipping his drink as if he did it every evening.

Evelyn tilted her head, leaning a little closer as she watched him. The firelight warmed her cheeks, and when their knees brushed - accidental, she told herself - she felt a spark that made her heart skip. Tom still didn’t pull away. Instead, his gaze sharpened, dark and precise, focusing on the brief contact.

Her hand shifted subtly, resting near his on the floor. His hand was close, fingers almost touching hers. Buoyed by alcohol, she allowed her fingers to inch the tiniest bit closer to his. He didn’t move, and for a heartbeat, Evelyn wondered what would happen next.

Her breath caught. Tom’s eyes flickered downward, then back to hers, something in the way he was looking at her made her pulse race. She leaned in ever so slightly, the space between them shrinking, the warmth of his presence intoxicating.

And then - his book slipped, the soft thump startling them both. Evelyn jerked back, a laugh escaping her in nervous relief. Tom’s hand twitched slightly, almost instinctively, to steady the book, and for the briefest moment, his calm mask faltered. His dark eyes darted away, and the faintest shadow of colour appeared on his cheeks.

Evelyn thought he looked positively charming.

“We should stay up till midnight.” She declared suddenly, eager to avoid awkwardness creeping in.

“There is no practical reason to do so.” Tom said lazily, although they both knew he was going to humour her regardless.

“Practicality doesn’t count tonight,” Evelyn insisted, “it’s tradition, remember? You, me…well, a drink by the fireplace.” Her gaze lingered on him, steady and teasing and imploring all at once.

He regarded her for a long moment and then smiled, large, genuine, and very real. “Very well, I’ll endure this tradition, if only to observe.”

Evelyn barely registered his words, so caught up as she was in memorising his smile. She blinked before blushing, what he said catching up to her. He made it sound like he was observing her.

“I don’t think I’ve ever stayed up this late for anything.” Evelyn admitted softly, her voice almost swallowed by the crackle of the fire.

“What happened to it being tradition?” He asked teasingly. The firewhiskey had made him relax; his expression was open, his sleeves rolled up, and his hair fell in soft waves into his eyes. He brushed it out of the way every so often.

“It’s a new tradition, just for us.” Evelyn said firmly, flushed and pleased when Tom looked away from her, momentarily disarmed.

Hours slipped by unnoticed by the pair as they spoke, sipping firewhiskey as time crept forward towards midnight. The clock in the common room chimed in warning, startling them both out of their conversation.

“Almost midnight.” Evelyn whispered. The fire had dwindled to a warm, steady glow, causing shadows to stretch across the common room like lazy fingers. “You know,” She said softly, the words spilling easier than they normally would, “I have actually stayed up this late once before.”

“Oh?” Tom prompted, turning his head to look at her.

“Adrian and Alaric…they convinced me to search for Pringle’s stash. A first year Hufflepuff swore up and down he knew where they were.” Her eyes glazed over as she spoke, lost in the memory. “We nearly got caught by Peeves! It was…thrilling. I never joined them on one of their late night jaunts again though.”

Tom looked bemused as he considered her words. “You risked detention for…what? Some confiscated goods?” There was no scorn in it, only an analytical edge, as if he couldn’t understand the reasoning behind it.

“At the time it was an adventure. I’m glad I got to experience some mischief at Hogwarts.”

“As long as it doesn’t become a habit.” Tom warned gently, eyes flicking away to a distant wall.

Evelyn hesitated, drawing circles into the carpet.

“Tom,” She ventured sweetly, instantly capturing his attention, “how have you found the Christmas holidays so far?”

He pursed his lips, letting the silence stretch for a while before he responded.

“It’s been acceptable.” He tried to keep a straight face, but loosened by alcohol he let a small grin break through alongside a chuckle as Evelyn nudged him with her own laugh.

“You’re smiling! Admit it, you’ve had a great time so far.”

“I’m not smiling.” He argued, though he didn’t try to pretend again, and he didn’t refute Evelyn’s claim. Sitting here with Tom as intimately as they were, Evelyn was once struck with the thought that this must be what it’s like to have a boyfriend.

“Tom…have you ever had someone you…like? Or care about, in that way?” She asked softly, casually.

Tom’s head lifted slightly, his eyes meeting hers steadily. “No I haven’t, and I don’t intend to.”

She smiled sadly in response, letting the words hang between them. For some reason, they made her feel unhappy.

Don’t push, Evelyn. Respect his boundaries. Don’t open your mouth and speak!

But she found herself ignoring her own admonishment - she couldn’t resist. She leaned back, letting the thought float lightly between them. “I think it would be nice to have someone who makes you laugh and keeps you company.”

Tom’s lips quirked, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “Laughter is fleeting. Company, too. Neither tends to last.” His voice was softer than usual, the firewhiskey blurring the edges of his sharpness.

“Oh, I don’t know. Some people are very good company to keep. Alaric, for example - he’s always been there, without needing to be asked.”

Tom’s knuckles went white from how firmly he was holding the glass.

“Is he the one you’ve been writing to so often?” Tom asked. Evelyn smiled, charmed by Tom’s poorly veiled curiosity

“No…I’ve been speaking with Adrian, Harriet, even Margaret...” She sighed, leaning against him, “He hasn’t responded once.”

Tom lifted his glass to his lips, letting the burn sear his throat and buy him a moment - just long enough to hide the sudden spike of wicked delight at the fact that Blackwood was ignoring her.

“And yet, you’ve hardly seemed troubled by his silence.” Evelyn wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement, but she hummed happily, picking a thread on her cuff.

“Why would I be? I have you.” Tom sucked in a breath of air, caught off guard once again by her sincerity. She stared up at him sweetly, her cheeks faintly flushed from drink, her smile soft and lazy as she cocked her head to the side. She nudged him gently, breaking him out of his observations.

“Perhaps he realised there was little point, since you’ve made it clear where you’ve chosen to spend your time.” Tom didn’t look at her, instead focusing as he trailed his finger around the rim of his glass.

Evelyn laughed freely. “You make it sound like a contest.”

Tom huffed out a laugh as he looked at her. “You make it sound like I’d care about winning.” His voice dipped lower, half in challenge and half in something rougher, the teasing taking on a hidden edge.

“I think you do care, even if you’d never admit it.” Evelyn said boldly, a faint smile tugging her lips.

His head turned every so slightly, just enough that the low firelight caught the sharp line of his jaw and reflected in his eyes. He should have denied it - the words were already on the tip of his tongue - but something about her easy smiles and closeness stalled the lie.

With exaggerated effort, Tom let out a long sigh, pretending to be put upon.

“You’re insufferable when you’re right.” He murmured in amusement. Evelyn let out a low giggle, vibrating against his side. Maintaining eye contact, she slowly reached across him and gently plucked the bottle of firewhiskey out of his hand. Her perfume wafted past him as she gently brushed her body against his. Her touch sent a spark straight through him, sharper than the firewhiskey could ever do.

Evelyn’s eyes took on a darker glint as she studied him, a coy smile playing on her lips.

“For someone who insists he doesn’t care, you seem to talk about Alaric a lot.” She stated casually, twirling a strand of her hair as she sometimes likes to do.

Tom arched his brow. If she wanted to play, he would play.

“Curiosity isn’t the same as caring.” He tossed it out lazily, though his gaze sharpened as Evelyn hummed, clearly unconvinced.

“So if I told you I planned to spend the whole of Christmas break writing to him, you wouldn’t mind at all?”

He didn’t even pause. “Not in the slightest. I’d only pity you for wasting your time.”

Evelyn couldn’t help the bark of laughter she let out in response, leaning against him easily.

“You’re terrible!” She exclaimed, though her voice was warm as she regarded him.

They let the silence settle, both caught up in their own thoughts. Tom eventually set his glass down and angled his body towards her, his face set in a serious frown.

“Tell me something, Evelyn,” His voice was challenging, “why do you bother writing to Blackwood if he isn’t answering?”

Evelyn blinked, caught off guard. She stared into the flickering embers, her chest squeezing as she considered the question. Why did she continue to write to him? Neither Harriet nor Adrian mentioned him in their letters, and in return Evelyn didn’t mention their friend once. They danced around the topic of Alaric Blackwood with care, skirting his name like it might shatter the illusion that there wasn’t something amiss between them.

“I don’t know.” She finally settled on, her voice quiet. “I had hoped he would eventually respond but…with it being Christmas Day tomorrow…” She trailed off, biting her lip in embarrassment and doubt.

Tom’s gaze didn’t waver, making her fidget. “Hope? Or stubbornness? It seems like you’re chasing someone who’s made it clear he doesn’t want to be found.”

“Maybe I am,” Evelyn said steadily, lifting her eyes to meet Tom’s, “but that’s what friends do. They don’t give up on each other.”

Tom rolled his eyes and turned away, his mouth turning down in a tight line. He hated how she spoke about Alaric, as if he was someone worthy of her attention and affection. A sharp, possessive urge surged through him, and for a moment he imagined wrapping his fingers around her slim neck, a cruel lesson in boundaries, until she understood exactly what he expected of her.

Something must have shown on his face, for Evelyn gently grabbed his wrist that was nearest to her, uncurling his fingers in the process. Her hand was warm and clumsy, but surprisingly steady considering how fast her heart was beating. Slowly, she brushed her thumb in a slow circle on the inside of his wrist.

The contact was both grounding and intimate.

“I don’t usually get to see this side of you.”

Tom froze, the words catching him completely off guard. He tried to mask the sudden jump in his pulse, but she could clearly feel it as she rubbed soothing circles into his wrist. His gaze landed on her instantly, sharp and probing, searching her face for any hint of what she was thinking. He let the faintest touch of Legilimency brush her mind, fleeting enough that not even your average trained wizard would be able to perceive it.

There was no fear, and no judgement, only a quiet acknowledgement of what she had glimpsed. For the first time, Tom felt the dangerous pull of possibility; that maybe, just maybe, Evelyn Bennett would be able to take him as he truly was, and still come out of it standing. He had offered her small, subtle chances to step into his world, but each time she had carefully pulled back.

Tom had thought she would never be ready, but perhaps…she always had been.

“Reckless.” He finally said, his voice rough and strained.

“Bold.” Evelyn countered breathily, her pupils dilated. Her thumb kept moving, almost absent-mindedly at this point, but it was undoing him more than any grand gesture ever could. Tom didn’t pull away, and he wasn’t sure if he would be able to even if he tried.

“You don’t know what you’re doing.” He murmured, gaze darkening. His voice lacked any conviction.

Evelyn hesitated, her blush intensifying as she stared at him. Bolstered by alcohol, she huffed lightly and leaned in.

“Don’t I?” She whispered, eyes bright with defiance. The air between them thickened. His gaze dropped briefly to her lips - a mistake - before snapping back to her eyes. Tom let out a quiet, steady breath, maintaining eye contact as his control frayed.

He gently pulled his wrist free from her thumb and captured her hand in his, his fingers wrapping around hers. For a dangerous moment, he allowed it all - the intimacy, the closeness, the strange beating of his heart that he couldn’t quite tame -

And then it was too much.

He squeezed her fingers hard which elicited a tiny noise of pain before he tore his hand away, standing up to his feet fluidly.

“Get some sleep.” He ordered icily, refusing to look at her. Before Evelyn had a chance to say anything, he had already strode across the common room toward the staircase and out of her sight.

Tom lay rigidly in bed, his mind grappling with what had happened. His wrist still burned with the ghost of her thumb, and for once he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to shake it off or hold onto it forever. It was maddening - it was only just last year he had nearly murdered Myrtle Warren down in the second floor girls’ bathroom for Merlin’s sake - and yet Evelyn’s pathetic touch had nearly unravelled him.

What made it even worse was that he had let her. He had wanted her to.

He had scoured every angle, every possibility, trying to see where Evelyn Bennett could serve in the grand designs of Lord Voldemort - but whichever way he turned it, she was nothing more than a weakness waiting to be exploited.

It should have infuriated him, and it did, but not in the way he was expecting.

Control. I must remain in control. It was a mantra Tom Riddle was finding himself repeating more often than not lately.

Yes, they could certainly study together, and he might permit the occasional exchange once the Christmas holidays were over, but he would push her away. Because if he didn’t, he wasn’t entirely sure what might happen next.

And that was the most dangerous thought of all.

Chapter Text

Evelyn woke up gently, winter light filtering across the room through the enchanted windows. She stretched, realising with a start that it was Christmas morning. Sitting up, she pressed her face into her hands, remembering with sudden clarity the disastrous way the previous evening had ended.

In the warmth of the moment, she had grown reckless, stepping across every unspoken boundary between them. She could have sworn she’d seen something flicker in his eyes - something that urged her to act with such startling boldness - however in the cool light of morning, she suddenly wasn’t so sure.

Regret weighed heavily on her chest.

She remembered with a sigh how he had fled from her presence, not even looking at her. She hadn’t meant to push him too far, she knew better than anyone how tightly wound Tom Riddle was.

“I’ll apologise.” Evelyn whispered into the stillness of the room, the sheets bunching up under her fists. She was excited to spend Christmas with him, and to see Hogwarts in all its festive glory, but she also felt anxious about seeing him. Would he ignore her? Would she even see him at all? She hoped that he would pretend nothing had ever happened.

I won’t let my actions ruin our Christmas together. She vowed silently. She would be the epitome of grace today; composed, polite, and completely put together.

She lingered in front of the mirror, agonising over what to wear. She had brushed her hair and applied an extra generous helping of hair oil until the strands shone, sleek and dark and hanging loosely all the way down her back. Evelyn also took extra care with her makeup; a slight sweep of her brush on her cheeks to mimic the winter chill, mascara, she even added a soft line of eyeliner, finding that she liked how it made her look a little more…dramatic.

Her makeup was nothing heavy or excessive, but she felt better for making the effort on Christmas Day. Originally she was going to opt for a red, festive jumper and a skirt, but her hand had paused over a green dress she owned. It was plain, fitted at the waist with a soft flare at the hem and long sleeves that also flared out a little. There were no adornments except for a small silver pattern woven together at the bottom and at the end of her sleeves, almost unnoticeable unless you were staring. It was nothing special, but it was slightly more put together than her first option.

Yes, she thought to herself, twirling around, this will do perfectly.

Steadying her breath, she smoothed her skirt before descending the stairs with practiced confidence, uncertain of what - or who - might be waiting for her below.

Evelyn reached the bottom of the staircase and came to a stop.

Tom was already there.

He stood near the chess set, staring out at the enchanted view of the Black Lake, hands clasped loosely behind his back. He stood perfectly still, as if he was carved out of marble; there wasn’t a single line on his face to betray how he might have been feeling, he looked almost pensive, as if he were mulling over a great discovery.

She nearly turned back in fear - he looked too calm, too certain, whereas she felt the exact opposite: anxious, uncertain, and small. But then he turned and his dark eyes found hers instantly, as if he had sensed her presence.

He had been waiting for her.

This small thought was enough to bring colour to her cheeks and a dizzying wave of joy. She couldn’t help but smile brightly, her feet carrying her towards him before she even had time to think.

“Good morning, Tom.” She said softly, her voice almost shy.

“Good morning, Evelyn.” Tom replied evenly. Evelyn searched his face for any hints of anger or annoyance, even disdain, but she found none. Instead, he looked pleasantly calm, and that alone steadied her.

“About last night…I really must apologise, I shouldn’t have -” Before she could start rambling, Tom held up a hand, instantly silencing her.

“Evelyn.” His voice was controlled as he held her gaze. It commanded her utmost attention, and she froze, stomach twisting in anticipation of what he was going to say. “I’d rather we forget it. Entirely. There’s a reason I don’t usually drink.”

It wasn’t exactly cruel, but the sharp manner in which he spoke made her stomach drop.

If he’s willing to let it be water under the bridge, I’ll gladly do the same. She sighed, letting some of the tension she held leave her body. She flashed him a grateful smile, even though her heart still panged with the knowledge that her feelings would never be reciprocated.

She silently promised herself that she would move on from Tom Riddle, even though there was nothing to move on from.

“So,” He said, changing the subject, his expression lighter, “what does one usually do first thing on Christmas morning?”

Evelyn’s heart warmed; Tom was in a good mood, once again sharing his warmth with her.

“Presents, of course.” She smiled, her eyes bright with excitement. She gestured over to the tree where both of their presents lay wrapped, already making her way over.

“Another tradition?” Tom murmured, allowing himself a small first smile of the day.

“Exactly that.” Evelyn shot back over her shoulder. She settled down on the floor, arranging her dress to keep herself decent before she reached over and picked up her present to Tom. Flushing, she shyly handed it to him, willing her hands to stop trembling. “I thought we might start with yours.”

Tom’s eyes lowered to the gift, his expression carefully composed as ever. The present was painstakingly wrapped in silver paper flecked with delicate green threads that shimmered in the light. She’d wound a gorgeous, dark satin green ribbon around it, tying it into a bow that had taken her three tries to perfect. She’d also tucked a sprig of Holly under the knot, a gesture she hoped he wouldn’t find too over the top.

For a long moment, Tom simply looked at it, turning it slightly in his hands. Evelyn could see  from his expression that he wasn’t used to receiving gifts, and she idly wondered if this would have been his first ever Christmas present. The thought made her feel incredibly sad.

At last, he gently slid the ribbon free before he began to unwrap the paper. He didn’t tear it, instead he unfolded each piece carefully, as if determined not to give anything away in haste. She only caught the faintest of trembling in his fingers because she was so focused.

When the black box within was revealed, Evelyn felt her hands getting clammy.

Tom lifted the lid and stilled.

Inside lay a new diary - sleek, elegant, and bound in soft black leather with faint, deep green stitching along the spine. The cover was unmarked, clean, he would even go as far as to say inviting. On the inside cover, Evelyn had very neatly written Tom Marvolo Riddle, and the year 1943. At the very bottom in tiny script, she had written ‘A gift from your friend, Evelyn’.

He ran his hands over the leather, then opened it. Inside he found thick, creamy pages edged faintly in silver, the kind that promised to hold ink without blotting.

“It’s charmed with a preservation spell to keep the pages free from stains and wear and tear.” Evelyn’s voice filled the silence, soft and nervous as she spoke. “You said you hated the one you had bought in London - I remember you saying it was poorly made, and that the paper was dreadful. I thought…with the new year coming, you might want something better. Something worth writing in.”

Tom’s eyes didn’t lift from the diary. He turned the pages slowly, his fingertips brushing over the smooth paper, testing the give of the binding. His lack of response continued to stretch, and Evelyn feared she had made a horrendous mistake.

Finally, when she thought she could bear no more, he closed it gently and looked at her.

“You remembered that?” His tone was low and curious, as though the thought genuinely puzzled him.

She blushed profusely, but met his question with a sweet smile. “Of course I did.”

“It’s…exceptional.” He said at last, the weight of honesty threading through it. His thumb brushed once over the cover before he set it aside carefully on the floor beside him, almost reverent. “I’ve never been given something like this.”

Evelyn’s heart swelled, she would have sagged in relief if she were by herself.

“I’m glad you like it.” She replied softly.

For a brief moment, Tom looked at her differently - more open, more human, as though whatever armour he had spent the night building up had loosened under the gesture. Then, true to himself, Tom straightened and inclined his head at her, a very small smile ghosting over his lips.

“Thank you, Evelyn.” He then reached over for his own present and presented it to her. “This is for you.”

Heart hammering away, Evelyn thanked him and delicately unwrapped the gift; there were no flourishes with bows or ribbons, and the wrapping paper was plain, but when she opened the small black box that was inside, she nearly gasped out loud from surprise.

Inside, the box was a dainty silver necklace, resting on a cushion of dark velvet. The pendant was a simple, polished orb, nothing flashy in the slightest, but it was unmistakably elegant and of fine quality.

“Tom,” She exclaimed quietly, eyes darting up to meet his with unabashed joy, “it’s beautiful. You shouldn’t have!” She lifted it up carefully, admiring it from a few different angles as he spoke.

“I noticed that you never wear jewellery.” He paused and cleared his throat, his face closed off and unreadable. “I thought it might…suit you.”

“You thought that?” Evelyn couldn’t hide how pleased she felt, her entire face must have been extremely red, but for once she found that she didn’t care.

“Of course.” He replied, shrugging as though it were the most ordinary observation in the world. But his eyes lingered on her as she held it, feeling a dark ooze of satisfaction as she shyly asked him to clasp it round her neck for her.

Tom had toyed with the idea of getting Evelyn a Christmas present, the concept foreign and grating all at once. Ever since she had revealed she was staying at Hogwarts for him, practically vibrating with misplaced sentimentality and infuriating eagerness, Tom had known with increasing annoyance that she would buy him a present.

He did not want a present. He did not want to buy her a present.

And yet he had found himself slipping out to Hogsmeade anyway, hands stuffed in his pockets and cloak turned up high against the cold. He told himself it was childish. Petty, even. The thought of giving her a necklace (of all things!) felt absurd in hindsight. He had chosen it whilst wandering through the village, ostensibly because she never wore jewellery.

A trivial observation, he had claimed to himself, anyone would notice that she doesn’t wear a necklace…but in truth, the decision had also been fuelled by something far less innocent.

Possessiveness.

The initial thought had taken root like poison - he wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea of giving Evelyn a necklace, something she would wear that was unmistakably from him. And yet, what had begun as a faint, almost ridiculous notion had grown into something sharper and more insistent: a strange, almost intoxicating desire to mark her subtly, to leave a trace of his attention that no one else could overlook. The idea of her wearing a necklace he had chosen - of it resting against her skin, catching the light - gnawed at him incessantly.

Now, sitting on the floor next to the Christmas tree, he watched her adjust the delicate silver chain. It draped perfectly along her collarbone, swinging lightly as she moved, catching the light in tiny, insistent glints. Each motion, each reflection, each careful tilt of her head seemed to command attention.

Tom nodded along as she spoke, entirely unhearing as his gaze was focused on her neck.

Mine.

He allowed himself a fleeting smirk, considering the added bonus: it would drive Blackwood utterly insane.

Evelyn couldn’t stop smiling.

She loved the necklace. She loved feeling the weight of it as it rested against her chest, and she thought it complimented her dress wonderfully. Tom had done an excellent job in picking it. They had spent the rest of the morning on the sofa, careful to maintain an appropriate distance between them; Tom had whisked his new diary away upstairs to his room, and Evelyn had enchanted the instruments leftover from the party to start playing.

They sat in companionable silence, both lost in their own books, yet acutely aware of each other's presence. All in all, it was a very pleasant morning.

Eventually, Evelyn shut her book and jumped up to her feet, casting a quick tempus in the process.

“I believe it’s time for Christmas lunch!” She exclaimed. Tom sighed good-naturedly and stood up as well, allowing Evelyn to grasp the edge of his sleeve to pull him along after her. “Don’t tell me you’ve managed to avoid this as well?” She asked teasingly, the tension from the night before forgotten.

Tom’s lips quirked into a reluctant smile. “Avoid it?” He echoed, eyes glittering. “I’ve tried, truly. But Dumbledore has…ways of ensuring attendance.” He gestured vaguely with one hand, as if that explained everything.

Evelyn laughed, light and warm, linking arms with him and leaning in conspiratorially.

“I should have guessed. It’s rather amusing how you two seem to butt heads, you’ll have to tell me the story behind that some time.” Tom hummed non-committedly as they walked down the Grand Staircase.

Without saying a word, they both unlinked arms as they drew near to the Great Hall; pushing open the doors, they were greeted with whirls of colours and chatter, enchanted snowflakes drifting lazily along the ceiling above. There was one long, richly decorated table spanning the length of the hall, with a few students dotted here and there.

Tom and Evelyn navigated the crowd, with the older prefect leading the way. In Tom Riddle fashion, he chose a seat on the very edge of the table, and Evelyn slid in opposite him. There was a dazzling display of food; golden roast turkeys and hams, platters of honey-roast root vegetables and crispy roast potatoes were dotted throughout the table. The smell of the rich gravy mingling with the sweet puddings made her mouth water.

Her aunt's watery dinners could never compare.

“Here we go.” Tom breathed, his voice thick with irritation. Evelyn glanced up, a question on her lips, until she spied Dumbledore making a beeline towards them. She hid a chuckle behind her hand, schooling her features into polite respect.

The charms professor was dressed in garish red and gold robes, the edges lined with small enchanted lions that danced every once in a while. Tom had turned away in order to hide his grimace, although he caught Evelyn’s eye and they both stifled a snicker.

“Ah,” Dumbledore said warmly, clasping his hands together, “what a fine day for a feast, isn’t it? And what do we have here? A most charming young lady, and Mr Riddle.”

“Good afternoon, Professor Dumbledore.” Evelyn smiled genuinely. Despite the wizened professor being a Gryffindor through and through, she could certainly appreciate how powerful and kind he was, despite his slight bias against Slytherins.

“Professor.” Tom’s voice was perfectly polite, but it was hard to miss the subtle note of derision that rang through.

“Tom,” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as he leaned closer, “still as solemn as ever, I see. And yet, you are not immune to the charms of holiday cheer, I trust?”

Tom ground his teeth together, forcing a polite smile onto his face. “Holiday cheer is acceptable, when properly moderated.” Evelyn bit her lip, trying not to giggle at the way Tom’s serious tone collided with Dumbledore’s playful teasing.

Dumbledore chuckled softly, his eyes lingering on Tom for a split second too long before moving his attention onto Evelyn.

“I trust you are settling into Hogwarts quite well, Miss Bennett?”

“I am, sir. I’ve settled in very well, and already have a strong circle of friends, Tom here included.” She flashed Tom a small, genuine smile before focusing back on her professor.

“Do be careful. Young hearts can be impulsive, even in the most disciplined of environments.” His gaze remained friendly, but it had sharpened into something Evelyn could only describe as a warning. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her cheeks flaring pink under Dumbledore’s scrutiny.

“I understand, Professor.”

Dumbledore appraised both of them for a moment, before two lemon sherbets materialised out of thin air. He offered them the sweets, Evelyn laughed joyfully and accepted, whilst Tom imperceptibly shook his head, his eyes dark.

“Enjoy your meal! Remember, Christmas is a time for warmth, laughter, and a little indulgence - we wouldn’t want all the house elves' splendid efforts to go to waste!” He gave them both a conspiratorial wink before he moved down the table to greet other students.

Evelyn let out a breath, her chuckle breaking Tom out of whatever dark place he had started to go. He rolled his eyes, helping himself to some roast.

“He’s always like that. Dumbledore has never liked me. I’m certain he’s made it his life’s mission to ruin my time at Hogwarts.” Tom grumbled, although there was no real venom in his voice.

“Well, I think you handled him quite well.” Evelyn teased.

Tom finished his mouthful and then smirked. “I always maintain my composure, even in the face of indiscriminate cheer.”

Evelyn laughed freely, and the rest of the meal passed in relative ease, marked by teasing, jokes, and easy conversation. Evelyn couldn’t help but steal glances at him whenever he wasn’t looking, her heart fluttering traitorously all the while. For all his composure, she could feel the faint warmth radiating from him - almost like a gift in itself.

They went for a walk after lunch, the crisp December air greeting them with enthusiasm. The last echoes of laughter and chatter faded from the Great Hall behind them as they walked, falling into their familiar routine of heading toward the Black Lake.

“That’s the most I’ve ever seen you eat,” She remarked with a grin, glancing sideways at her friend, “I thought you didn’t like the Christmas feast?”

“I don’t,” He replied evenly, hands tucked neatly into his pockets, “but I was hardly going to starve myself in front of Dumbledore. He seems to notice everything.”

“Speaking of Dumbledore…” She tilted her head, fixing him with a mischievous look, “Why doesn’t he like you?”

Tom let out a low chuckle, amused. “He’s meddlesome.”

“That’s not an answer.” Evelyn pushed, an eyebrow raised.

“It’s the only one you’ll get.” He countered smoothly.

Evelyn rolled her eyes, grinning. “Fine, keep your secrets. But one day you’ll tell me.”

“If you say so.” Tom replied evenly, though he let a little smile out.

They walked on in silence for a few moments, until Evelyn tugged his arm away from the lake. He followed after her as she hurried ahead, wondering where she was going.

“Perfect.” She declared, surveying the wide expanse of untouched snow in front of them.

Tom frowned faintly. “Perfect for what?”

“Building a snowman, of course!” She exclaimed as if it was an obvious answer.

Tom blinked, turning to face her fully. “A snowman?”

“Yes. You do know what a snowman is, right?” She asked sarcastically, crouching down to scoop up a handful of snow.

“I am familiar with the concept,” He replied dryly, “though I fail to see the appeal.”

“That’s because you’ve never built one properly. Come on.” Tom remained static as Evelyn began to work, patting snow into a hard mound to create a base.

“You’re being serious.” Tom observed. He was staring at her as if she’d suggest they start rolling around in the dirt.

“Of course I’m being serious.” Her eyes were sparkling. “But we’re doing it the proper way, no magic.”

Tom actually looked offended, causing Evelyn to laugh.

“Why would we not use magic? It would be efficient.”

“Because efficiency isn’t the point. The point is fun! Which - in case you didn’t know - you’re allowed to have at Christmas.”

Tom regarded her for a long, silent beat, weighing the indignity of the request against the faint pleasure he got from indulging in her whims. Finally, he sighed and pocketed his wand, kneeling beside her.

“Fine, but if I ruin my gloves over this - “

“You won’t,” She interrupted, grinning triumphantly, “now roll.”

Together, they rolled the growing mound of snow across the ground, Evelyn laughing breathlessly when it started to grow in size. Tom, much to his own surprise, found himself letting out a laugh or two of his own, cheeks flushed from the physical effort of rolling the ball.

“This is ridiculous.” He muttered, though he kept pushing and the smile didn’t slip off his face.

“Ridiculously fun.” Evelyn corrected, her breath coming out in little puffs.

With the base created the bottom of the snowman’s body finally settled in place, they started working together on the mid-section. Tom helped, though his movements were far more precise, trying to shape it perfectly round whilst Evelyn insisted it didn’t have to be flawless.

They were just about to lift the middle onto the base when Evelyn’s boot slipped on a patch of hidden ice. She gave a small gasp and tumbled sideways, straight into Tom. He reacted quickly, catching her around the waist with both his hands, but the momentum pulled them both down into the snow with a muffled thud, Tom taking the brunt of the fall.

Evelyn landed half across him, their heads colliding. Their faces were so close that for a moment, she forgot how to breathe.

For a few seconds neither of them moved, until Evelyn giggled, breaking the tension like snow melting under the sun.

“That wasn’t very graceful of me.” She murmured, rolling off of him.

How embarrassing! Evelyn thought, her face flaring crimson. She could not shake the feel of his body underneath her own, goosebumps breaking out all over her - and they nothing to do with the chill in the air. Tom stood up, dusted his clothes, then reached over and pulled Evelyn up. The strength with which he pulled sent her stumbling a little into his chest, and he steadied her once again.

He looked down at her, noting the small snowflakes that clung to her lashes, and the way she pressed into him in a way that made his chest tighten unexpectedly.

“Right, let’s get back to it. Our snowman is waiting, Mr Riddle.”

The rest of the snowman came together in laughter and teasing, his features lopsided because Evelyn refused to let Tom fix them with magic. His head was slightly too large for his body, but all in all he looked perfectly imperfect. They stepped back to admire their creation, and Evelyn was beaming.

“He’s perfect!” She declared.

Tom tilted his head, studying the snowman with faint disdain. “He’s absurd.”

Evelyn shook her head and chuckled, both of them starting to make their way back to the castle. He glanced at the witch beside him; her cheeks were flushed, eyes bright, and she’d been wearing a smile all afternoon. All in all, Christmas Day with Evelyn Bennett hadn’t been too bad.

They arrived at the Slytherin common room, two mugs of hot chocolate floating in front of them at Evelyn’s insistence to ‘chase away the cold’. Tom had given up pretending to fight her ideas, instead simply going along with them at this point.

“See?” Evelyn said triumphantly, “That wasn’t so dreadful.”

Tom unclasped his cloak and sighed, tossing it over the back of a chair.

“We wasted over an hour rolling lumps of frozen water into unstable towers. Forgive me if I fail to call it productive.”

Evelyn grinned, catching his eye from across the common room.

“And yet you stayed, even after we fell over.” The memory of that sent her heart skittering all over again.

Something flickered across his face, unguarded and fleeting. “Yes, I stayed.” He said finally, his voice quieter. Suddenly, the entrance to the common room opened and four owls swooped in. They all landed on the back of the sofa and shook their bodies vigorously, little droplets of water flying off of them.

Evelyn approached them cautiously, before she recognised the handwriting on the parcels.

“Oh! Presents, for me.” She murmured, stroking a tawny owl's head. Tom raised an eyebrow as he settled onto the sofa, Evelyn sitting next to him. He watched her, gaze calculated as she gathered her gifts onto her lap.

The first present, wrapped in practical brown paper, bore her aunt Elizabeth’s tidy script. Evelyn carefully undid the ribbon and out fell a delicate wool scarf, hand-knitted out of dark green wool with delicate, golden tassels on the end.

“Ah, she remembered my favourite colour,” Evelyn said softly, pressing it to her cheek, “She’s hopeless at knitting, but this actually looks half decent.” She waved the scarf at Tom, encouraging him to feel it. He brushed his hand along it and nodded, declaring it very practical for the weather they were facing.

Privately he thought it was plain and unremarkable, far beneath what Evelyn ought to be receiving.

The next package was from Harriet. Evelyn laughed as she tore the floral paper, pulling out a brightly illustrated book bound in a yellow cover. One Hundred Magical Remedies Your Mother Never Told You. A handwritten card slipped out onto her lap. Evelyn scanned it quickly then smiled, tucking the note back into the pages.

“Harriet is always thoughtful.” She murmured, placing the book by her side.

The third was from Adrian, who had wrapped his gift in an old Daily Prophet newspaper. Inside was a small, enchanted snow globe of Hogsmeade, with Hogwarts in the distance. She shook it, and tiny figures danced within, with little sparks of magic shooting out and curling like fireworks around the globe. Evelyn laughed in surprise, watching as it became still again.

“I’m surprised he remembered,” Evelyn wondered out loud, “I used to collect snow globes when I was younger, but then I threw them all out thinking I had outgrown it. I mentioned I wanted to start collecting again, I didn’t even think Adrian was listening.”

Tom said nothing this time, but his jaw tightened ever so slightly. He could already feel the cool prickle of irritation at how easily she bestowed her warmth on such thoughtless tat. And much deeper down, he was furious that he himself didn’t know this throwaway fact about Evelyn.

Finally, she reached for the last package. Both of them already knew who it was from.

“I’m surprised he even got me anything.” She mumbled, though it was more to herself than to Tom.

It was wrapped simply enough, with a handwritten note accompanying it. She read the note first, which simply said: Pour la plus belle fille que j’ai jamais rencontrée.

Whilst Evelyn couldn’t read French, she certainly remembered what it meant.

For the most beautiful girl I have ever met. She repeated the phrase in her mind, blushing fiercely as she did so, careful to avoid Tom’s eyes. She wouldn’t be surprised if he could read French. She placed the card neatly to the side, catching the way he scanned it before his face became impossibly blank. Evelyn could see the simmering darkness behind his eyes though.

She instead focused on the present, which was a beautiful, sleek quill. Its feathers were a deep, velvety black, blending seamlessly into dark green hues that caught the firelight with a quiet sheen. And if she tilted it just so, there ran a single streak of iridescent purple, shimmering faintly like oil on water, shifting colours with every angle. At the base of the quill, neatly engraved into the side, were her initials.

“Oh, how beautiful.” She enthused, holding it out for Tom to look at.

“A quill,” He said at last, smooth but with an unmistakable edge, “practical, though hardly extravagant.”

Evelyn looked at him quickly, her gaze softening. She had forgotten about their little feud with each other. Her mouth twitched, though she decided not to poke the bear and keep her teasing to herself.

Tom picked up the handwritten note, holding it between his forefinger and thumb as if it were something dirty. At last he spoke, his tone deceptively mild.

“Do you know what it says?”

Evelyn startled, buying herself some time as she tucked the quill away back in its box.

“I don’t speak French.” She finally settled on, hoping he would leave it at that. Tom leaned back slightly, his eyes sharp as glass, searching her face.

“Is that so?” He murmured, considering the truth of her words. He smirked, though it was cutting. “How convenient.” A pause. “Are you certain you don’t know what it says?” His voice was so calm, yet Evelyn felt a coil of apprehension settle in her stomach.

“Well…” She admitted, her voice soft, “Alaric did say this to me in person, and he told me what it meant. So whilst I can’t read French, I know what it says.”

Surprise and irritation flickered across Tom’s face, alongside something darker. He leaned back slowly, crossing one leg over the other as if he were restraining himself.

“Of course he did.” He finally said, his voice clipped. “How thoughtful.”

“Yes, thoughtful.” Evelyn said firmly. He had no right getting snippy with her over Alaric’s note. It had nothing to do with him. Unable to resist, her own irritation flaring to life, she spoke lightly, a tight smile on her face.

“I suppose I’ll have to write him a proper thank you letter, to test out my new quill.” Her eyes landed on his sharply, challenging him to say anything.

“I suppose you’ll be very busy writing all your thank you letters.” Tom responded, maintaining eye contact. Evelyn softened, a tired laugh escaping her lips.

She glanced down, then looked up at Tom with renewed intensity, her cheeks dusted pink.

“Yes,” She said softly, “but I’ll write yours first.” That simple sentence seemed to reign in some of Tom’s irritation. She briefly squeezed his shoulder as she took her gifts upstairs, where she meant the next fifteen minutes writing thank you letters to her friends and aunt.

Tom stared into the fireplace, his book held loosely in his hand, idly wondering if he could get away with poisoning Blackwood’s pumpkin juice at breakfast.

Evelyn eventually returned, duvet in tow, and sank into an armchair. She snuggled into it in front of the fire, arranging herself until she felt content.

“Read to me.” Evelyn asked, her voice muffled by the duvet. Tom raised an eyebrow, but after a heartbeat of silence began to read nonetheless. Her eyes started to droop, the mixture of food, warmth, and excitement from the day finally catching up with her.

She blearily noted how soothing Tom’s voice was as he read, and soon she had dozed off.

Tom watched her as she slept, the firelight bathing her in an orange glow. He allowed her to sleep for another hour as he read, his eyes flicking over to her every once in a while, simply taking in how peaceful she looked as she slept.

Evelyn opened her eyes, confused as she tried to remember where she was. Eventually she came to, yawning as she sat up.

“You’re tired.” Tom observed, not looking up from his book.

“And you’re not?” She countered sleepily.

He shook his head. “Not particularly.” His voice was soft, as though speaking any louder might fully disturb her. They sat like that for a while longer, Evelyn unashamedly watching him as he read it. Her eyes traced the curve of his jaw, and the way his hair had started to curl as it fell on his forehead. She admired the straight line of his nose and his cheekbones, wishing she could run her fingers along them.

“I should go up.” She said after a while, once again reminded of how she embarrassed herself the last time they stayed up late together. She stood up, and Tom did as well, marking his book and placing it on the sofa.

She hovered on the spot, not sure what to do with herself. Would a hug be inappropriate? She shrugged a little and stepped forwards, looping her arms around his neck. Tom stiffened a little bit, but much to her surprise (and joy) his right hand came up and she felt the ghost of his touch against her lower back. He didn’t lean into the hug, but it was the first time he had made any effort to somewhat reciprocate it.

Butterflies leapt from her stomach up to her throat, and she found herself suddenly unable to talk. Swallowing, she looked up at him, her gaze incredibly soft.

“This was the best Christmas I’ve ever had. It was wonderful spending it with you.”

His expression didn’t change, though the tiniest hint of colour appeared on his face. He held her gaze steadily, clearing his throat.

“It was a Christmas better than most, I would think.” He allowed.

Evelyn smiled brightly; it shone like a lighthouse would in the middle of a storm. Tom swallowed.

“Merry Christmas, Tom.”

There was the briefest pause, as if he’d never said the words before.

“Merry Christmas, Evelyn.”

Chapter Text

Indulgent

Evelyn sighed as she looked across at Tom; both were seated in their usual seats on the sofa, quietly reading and exchanging remarks every once in a while. It felt like a sad day, it was New Years Eve, which meant that tomorrow all the students would be returning. Their gentle routine - walks around the lake, around the castle, their unhurried moments in the common room and their soft conversations - all of that would be gone. Replaced by the chaos and noise of student life once resuming.

The night was fast drawing to a close, almost approaching midnight, and Evelyn knew that she wanted to end the Christmas holidays on a high note. Tom had been rather quiet the whole day too, and she wondered if he also would miss what they’d shared.

“I suppose I’m a little sad,” Evelyn said softly, injecting a teasing lilt into her voice to lift their spirits, “I was rather enjoying spending the holidays with you.”

“There’s always next year.” He tossed the words out casually and without meaning to, cursing himself when he realised what he’d said. Evelyn blushed, but she (mercifully) chose not to comment on it further.

“Would you care to dance with me?” The words tumbled out before Evelyn had fully considered them. The instruments were tinkling a beautiful tune in the background, and the glow of the firelight was leaving her feeling inspired.

“Dance?” He asked, his voice revealing how startled he was. He paused, his throat bobbing up and down, before he repeated himself more carefully. “You want me to…dance?”

“Yes.” She said lightly.

“Here, in the common room…with you.” Tom raised an eyebrow as she held his gaze steadily, although the tell-tale sign of her smoothing her dress revealed how nervous she was.

“I think you’ll be able to tolerate it,” She teased, eyes bright, “It would be a nice way to close the holidays.” She continued on, her voice soft.

Tom remained silent for a little while, rolling the idea around in his mind. He looked up at the ceiling, then let his eyes slide over to the witch who was staring at him hopefully. Finally, his lips quirked up in quiet bemusement.

“I suppose I could tolerate it.” He settled on, closing his book. What was one last indulged whim before the new term started anyway? He stood up, holding out his hand. Evelyn, surprised but pleased, gingerly took it, her fingers trembling imperceptibly.

“I never thought you’d agree to this.” Evelyn murmured, stepping into the centre of the common room. Tom followed suit, facing her.

“I indulge in rare occurrences.”

This whole holiday has been marked by indulgences. Tom kept that thought to himself. He hesitated, suddenly unsure if he really wanted to be slow dancing with Evelyn Bennett - the act felt too intimate, too familiar, and he steeled himself, readying himself to cut her down with a sharp word or too and return to the safety of the sofa, but then -

She stepped forwards shyly, her hands coming to rest lightly on his shoulders. Tom froze, his stomach dropping as if he’d been waiting for this exact touch all his life. She looked at him in question, before slowly stepping closer until there was a hair's breadth between their bodies.

How infuriating, that such trivial closeness can feel like…everything. He shifted, his hands coming to rest with a featherlight touch on her waist.

He immediately regretted ever agreeing to this.

They began to sway slowly, tentative in their movements at first. He guided them without force, feeling the curve of her body beneath the fabric of her dress. His pulse had accelerated, and he was aware of it in his chest, the back of his throat, even in his head.

Control. He reminded himself, although it felt increasingly pointless. Stay in control. 

“You’re taking this far too seriously.” Evelyn teased, fiddling with the edge of his shirt collar.

“I make sure to exercise discipline in everything I do. Even dancing.” His lips twitched against his will, and he felt himself relax a little. Evelyn noticed, and in turn she relaxed too, taking the opportunity to sigh as they swayed. Every brush of her hand on his shoulder and along his arm, even the small sway of her hips matching him, was electric.

How can someone be so alive? He wondered furiously, though he didn’t let it show on his face. The music slowed further, the tune taking on a melancholy note, as if the instruments knew this would be their last private night together too.

Their rhythm deepened, growing more fluid and intimate, though still maintaining a careful distance between their bodies. Evelyn had crept forwards until her cheek rested against his shoulder, her eyes slipping shut as she savoured the moment. His hands, which had remained politely splayed at her waist, dipped lower to the curve of her back, sending sparks jumping through her.

Tom almost found himself resting his cheek against the top of her head. He stopped himself just in time, tensing up once he realised what he’d nearly done.

“Relax,” She breathed against his chest, her breath tickling his neck, “we’re just dancing.”

“Just dancing.” He repeated, though the words tasted hollow.

Nothing is ever just…anything, with you Evelyn Bennett. He thought silently, aware that his usual composure seemed to have completely abandoned him.

Her hand that rested on his left shoulder trailed down to his collar bone, where she absent-mindedly traced it for a split second before she brought it back to its original position. He inhaled sharply, hardly daring to breathe as he tried - and failed - to steady his breaths.

Evelyn tilted her head up, tantalisingly close as she gazed up at him with large, doe-like eyes.

“I’m glad it’s just us.” She whispered, her eyes shining with sincerity. Tom’s mind went momentarily blank, lost in her gaze as heat rose in his chest.

“As am I.” He murmured, voice tight with restrained emotion. His instincts were at war with each other; one half of him wanted to push her away and disappear, the other half wanted to pull her closer and bury his nose in her hair. His eyes fell to the necklace he’d bought her as it rested against her chest, and he felt a curl of pleasure lance through him. She had not taken it off once since Christmas.

A silent question gnawed at him - what would it feel like? To simply brush his hand against her cheek? Finding himself helpless to his whim, his hand raised of its own accord and rested at the side of her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek slowly.

Evelyn’s eyes widened as she stared at him, her cheeks stained that delicious shade of red that Tom enjoyed when she was flustered. She didn’t pull away, somehow continuing to sway despite the erratic thumping of her heart.

They stopped moving, though they remained encircled in each other's arms. Evelyn held his gaze patiently, and strangely in challenge as well. He studied her coolly as his thumb brushed her cheek again, gentler this time, and for a split second wondered what it would feel like to let go entirely.

Overwhelmed by the moment, Tom found himself speaking.

“Do you want to come to the Astronomy Tower with me?”

She blinked, startled. “Now?”

“Yes.” His tone was as calm and unyielding as ever, but there was something beneath it - not quite urgency, but purpose.

“Why?” She asked, though she found herself following him as he led the way. He didn’t answer her as they wove their way through the darkened corridors, Evelyn staying close to his side as they walked.

They eventually reached the top of the tower and approached the edge slowly, Evelyn decided to remain quiet until Tom was ready to speak. They both stared out at the expanse of Hogwarts’ grounds, the stars twinkling merrily above them.

“I always come here on the thirty-first of December, at midnight. It’s a reminder that another year has passed, and that I am still here.”

Evelyn blinked, mortified that she had never asked him when his birthday was.

“Oh, Tom - ” She paused, guilt racking her, “I didn’t know it was your birthday.”

“You weren’t meant to.” He said. No reproach, only matter-of-fact finality as he stared out into the Forbidden Forest.

“You should have told me.” She admonished. Was it too late to get him a present?

He chuckled, finally turning to face her. “What would you have done? Bought me a box of peppermint creams?”

She huffed, laughing despite herself. “Maybe.”

The simplicity of his earlier words tugged at her. It didn’t sound like he celebrated his birthday, or even shared it with anyone. He endured it, year after year, alone. Until tonight. Heart twisting in sympathy, she reached out and rested her hand on his atop the rail, keeping her gaze trained forward.

He didn’t pull away.

She tilted her head and studied him, her eyes achingly soft.

“You shouldn’t look at me like that.” He commented at last, his voice the gentlest she’d ever heard it.

“Like what?” She was whispering.

He paused, looking for the right words. “Like I deserve it.”

Evelyn was taken aback by how open he was being. She smiled sadly, squeezing his hand.

“Maybe you do.” Silence stretched between them, filled only by the hiss of the wind. Evelyn held her ground, refusing to look away, even as her pulse quickened and the wind blew her hair across her face.

A distant bell tolled midnight, each note rolling through the night like a distant heartbeat. Evelyn felt the sound reverberate in her chest as she looked up at him, stars glinting in the darkness behind his head.

Then, without warning, Tom leaned down.

The first touch of his mouth against hers was barely there, more a fleeting whisper than anything else. It wasn’t clumsy, but it wasn’t practiced either. It was deliberate, a little bit hesitant, and measured, as though he were testing what it meant.

Evelyn froze, not from reluctance but from the sheer shock of it. She could feel the question on his lips, and she tilted up instinctively, answering the question he hadn’t asked aloud. That was when something shifted.

He pressed his lips against hers again, firmer, slower, more certain. He kissed like someone unused to the act but unwilling to do it carelessly. There was no dramatic sweep, one hand remained planted firmly on the railing, the other hung loosely by his side - there was just the warmth radiating from both of them, their breath mingling.

Evelyn’s heart thundered as she parted her lips, the kiss deepening. There was a fraction more pressure, and a fraction more intimacy. His hand that hung by his side finally came up to grip her round her waist. Her arms came up to tangle themselves in his hair as they suddenly kissed with renewed fervour, like two people who had been drowning for the longest time.

When Tom finally drew back, it was by the smallest margin - their foreheads were still pressed together, and his pupils were blown as he took her in.

The kiss had left her dizzy.

The bell’s last toll faded into silence, and for a moment the world felt suspended. They were both stock still, until Evelyn shifted slightly under his hungry gaze. Her movement seemed to trigger something in him, and he kissed her again, this time trapping her in between his arms and the railing, pressing her back into it. Her arms anchored her to him, their bodies completely flush.

His tongue entered her mouth with a new urgency, like a flame fighting through the cracks. It felt like fireworks were exploding behind her eyelids, the whole world shrinking to this one, singular moment.

The kiss started to approach something resembling abandon, her hand slipping of its own accord just underneath his shirt, feeling the warm skin underneath -

And then he pulled away, both of them breathing heavily.

They remained close, and Evelyn’s hand had found its way to Tom’s face where she was gently stroking his cheek.

“Happy birthday, Tom.” She whispered, her eyes sparkling. He huffed out a breathless laugh, dipping his head in acknowledgement.

“And happy new year.”

Evelyn’s heart fluttered with a mixture of excitement and nerves as she applied the final touches to her makeup. Today was the day all the students came for the new start of term, which meant she’d get to see Adrian, Harriet, and Alaric. The latter hadn’t responded to her heartfelt thank you letter, but the gift and the handwritten note was enough to reassure her that Alaric hadn’t entirely denounced their friendship.

More than that, she couldn’t wait to see Tom. She longed to discuss what had happened the previous night, and to figure out what it meant for them next. A shy smile appeared on her face as she approved of her appearance in the mirror; maybe she’d start the year off with a boyfriend.

Was it even real? Does he feel the same? She wondered, absent-mindedly fingering the necklace he bought her. Everything pointed in the direction of shared feelings, so she walked down the stairs confidently, expecting him to be waiting for her as he had done over the three week holiday period.

The common room was quiet when she arrived, and Tom was nowhere to be found.

Maybe he’s still asleep, or already gone down to breakfast. She thought, trying not to let her disappointment show. She had slept in later than she usually would, so who could fault him for going down to eat without her?

He wasn’t in the Great Hall either, and a small sense of unease started to crawl up her spine. She avoided Dumbledore’s probing gaze from the teachers table and swept from the hall quickly, barely managing to finish her porridge.

She hesitated as she stood just outside the hall doors, wondering if she should go to the library next or the courtyard. The courtyard yielded no results, and she slowly made her way down to the Black Lake, her shoulders sagging in relief when she saw Tom Riddle’s tall figure standing at the water's edge, immovable like a statue.

Her heart leapt, her worried frown transforming into a bright and easy smile.

“Tom!” She called cheerfully, waving at him shyly as she crossed the grounds. He turned slowly, and her steps faltered, taken aback. His eyes were sharp, cold, almost hostile as he watched her. All the warmth from the last three weeks was absent.

Oh Merlin. Evelyn swallowed nervously, but she was in too deep to turn back now. She carried on, albeit at a slower pace, the air feeling brittle between them as she drew to a stop.

“Good morning.” She mumbled, trying to match her usual cheer and failing. She twisted the edge of her robes’ sleeves, unable to maintain eye contact. “Tom, I wanted to talk about last night… about what happened between us.” She continued when it became apparent that he was refusing to greet her back.

He’s cold…why is he being like this? Evelyn was ashamed to feel a distant sting in the back of her eyes from the shock of the situation, though she dug her nails into her palms to steady herself.

His eyes narrowed, and for a heartbeat she thought he might even walk away.

“Why would that require a discussion?” His voice was clipped and defensive.

He doesn’t want a relationship with you, Evie. He doesn’t care - don’t ask, it’s only going to end in heart break. Leave it alone! Her thoughts were screaming at her, begging her to leave it, but she was too stubborn - he wasn’t allowed to kiss her like a man taking his last desperate breath, and then act as if nothing had happened the very next day.

She stepped closer and he ever so subtly flinched back, his eyes hard.

“I just…I wanted to know…” She took a deep breath, “do you want something more than friendship with me, Tom?”

The question hit him like a jolt of cold water. His expression faltered, and his eyes darted away from her, looking off somewhere to the side with his jaw tensed.

He doesn’t he doesn’t he doesn’t he doesn’t - repeated through her head at dizzying speed, her cheeks burning red from humiliation as he turned his dark gaze back to her.

“No. I will never want a relationship with anyone. I don’t care to, and frankly…I don’t see why I ever would.” His voice was sharp, almost jagged as he glared at her.

“Tom - “

“You’re naïve. Sweet. Don’t mistake the past three weeks for interest. You’re imagining things. You always imagine things.” He looked off to the side, his jaw clenched so tightly Evelyn was surprised she couldn’t hear the grinding of his teeth.

Evelyn took a step back, hurt flashing across her face. She bit her lip, eyes searching his. She couldn’t understand what had happened between last night and this morning. She felt like she was experiencing whiplash with how quickly he cycled through emotional extremes.

Don’t cry. She commanded herself, squaring her shoulders despite how her eyes watered.

“I understand.” She said softly.

“Good. Now run along before you start thinking I’m capable of sentimentality. I’m not. And I never will be. Consider this your lesson.” Tom watched as she retreated, confusion, frustration, and a strange, unwelcome ache churned inside him. He hated it. He hated Evelyn. He hated that he even cared at all.

He remained by the Black Lake, his mood darkening with every passing minute until he felt like a barely contained malevolent storm, stalking his way back inside the castle.

He strode through the common room, not expecting Evelyn to be there tucked up in a small ball on the sofa as she stared into the fire. Their eyes met for a second, and he felt the overwhelming urge to say something - maybe to apologise, to soften, to admit that part of him regretted his words - but he couldn’t. Pride, habit, and fear held him in check. He would never give her the satisfaction of knowing she had affected him, and that for the first time in his life, he actually felt something towards another person.

No, he swept past as if she wasn’t even there, snatched his diary out of his trunk and made his way to the Room of Requirement, where he intended to stay for the rest of the day.

Evelyn scrubbed at her eyes, splashing water over her face to freshen up. Her friends should be arriving now, and she wanted to greet them cheerfully. She wouldn’t let the shadow of Tom’s rejection seep into their reunion.

She hurried down to the grounds, already recognising Harriet’s bubbly laugh. They had let her know they would be arriving early, with Alaric trailing not too far behind them.

“Evie!” Adrian called, his bright grin infectious. Evelyn’s pace picked up until the twins’ met her halfway, all three of them colliding in a group hug.

“I missed both of you so much!” Evelyn exclaimed, and she really had. Her intimate bubble with Tom had been wonderful, but she had to fight hard to bring his warmth out, and she could never fully let go and be loose with him like she could with her other friends. Tom wore his intensity like armour, and she welcomed the respite her Hufflepuff friends brought.

“Glad to see you’re still alive.” Adrian smirked, side-stepping Evelyn’s playful swipe.

“I can’t wait to catch up.” Harriet murmured, clutching her side and smiling playfully.

Adrian rolled his eyes. “All this one did during Christmas was exchange letters with Nott.” His nose scrunched in distaste, and Evelyn’s eyebrow raised, a teasing grin appearing on her face.

“Oh really now? We really do need to catch up.” She nudged Harriet, who in turn blushed. They exchanged service level conversations as they waited for Alaric, Evelyn’s nerves slowly growing. Hey eyes kept darting over to the horizon, waiting for Thestral drawn carriage to appear.

Eventually one ambled up the path, with Alaric’s face popping into view behind the glass. Evelyn’s stomach twisted, wondering what sort of reception she’d receive. She didn’t think she could handle another rejection.

Alaric jumped out of the carriage, his feet already carrying him straight towards them. He closed the distance in seconds, his smile as blinding as the sun. Without a word or even a glance at the twins, he swept Evelyn up into his arms, lifting her off the ground into a bone-crushing hug.

He lifted her so high and enthusiastically she could have wrapped her legs around his waist, though she refrained from doing so.

“Evie - I missed you so much!” His voice was muffled as he buried his head in her hair, but it was filled with unmistakable warmth. Evelyn wrapped her own arms around him tightly as he lowered her to the ground, a wave of relief and happiness flooding her chest.

“I missed you too.” She whispered, closing her eyes and melting into him.

Adrian and Harriet watched in amusement, grinning softly. Harriet laughed, nudging her brother as she spoke loudly.

“Wow…he never greets me like that.” Adrian snorted in response.

“Or me.” He crossed his arms, sticking his tongue out as Alaric gestured at him good-naturedly.

“Shut it you two, I saw you over Christmas! Evie has had to survive three whole weeks without me.”

Evelyn laughed freely, pulling back slightly so she could look up at him.

“More like you’ve had to survive three weeks without me.” Evelyn shot back. The group laughed as they started the scenic walk back to the castle - it was almost as if Christmas had never happened.

Evelyn smiled softly as she regarded her friends; the cold ache from Tom’s rejection lingered faintly in the back of her mind, but it was muted by the warmth, laughter, and affection surrounding her. This reunion of joy was exactly what she needed.

Alaric leaned down, capturing her under his arm. “I’ve missed you Evie, really.”

They slowed down, lingering behind Adrian and Harriet as they walked on slightly ahead. Harriet turned her head and gave Alaric a knowing look before she turned back forward, whispering with her brother.

“Alaric…” Evelyn tilted her head up to look at him, nibbling her lip. “Why were you ignoring my letters all through Christmas?” Her voice was calm, but there was an undeniable current of hurt shining through. “Did you even get any of them?”

Alaric stopped walking, running a hand through his hair in an uncharacteristic show of nerves. He sighed as a soft smile slowly appeared.

“I received every single one,” He said gently, “and I kept them. I read them more times than I can count.” He cupped her face with his hands and brushed his thumbs across her cheeks in a soothing motion. “I’m really sorry that I didn’t respond.”

Evelyn’s brow furrowed. “You just didn’t reply at all then?” She asked quizzically.

He exhaled sharply, a hint of frustration threading through the breath.

“I was being an idiot. I was going through some stuff over the holidays…it was nothing to do with you, I promise. You didn’t do anything wrong. Honestly, it doesn’t even matter anymore. I just - “ His eyes softened, earnest and full of apology. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Relief coursed through her chest, and she let herself smile. She couldn’t doubt the sincerity of his words; where Tom operated in half truths and nuanced concessions, Alaric was beautifully simple in his honesty.

“I really missed you.” She confessed, catching him off guard with the intensity in which she said it. His fingers brushed hers, tentative at first, then he intertwined them with hers, their palms pressed together as they resumed walking.

The simple touch sent a shiver up her spine, enjoying the feeling of being wanted. He brushed his thumb over her knuckles in a light, teasing rhythm, and she let her eyes slide over to him, sparkling in reciprocated affection.

“You’re touchy feely today.” She teased lightly, trying to mask the flutter in her chest.

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “I’ve missed you,” He repeated simply, “and I’m allowed to be touchy-feely if I want to. You’re here now, that’s what matters.”

Every once in a while Harriet or Adrian would turn back to call out a joke or an observation, eliciting shared laughter between the group. This was exactly what she needed to get a grip on her emotions and move on.

“I can’t believe you didn’t write back at all.” Evelyn laughed, though the faint brush of hurt still remained. Whatever had happened, she knew it must have been quite a lot to cause Alaric to not respond like that. She hoped he would feel comfortable enough to share it with her soon.

“Not a single word,” He joked, eyes twinkling, “but I was a fool for letting the holidays - and whatever else - get in the way. It’s done now, and I’m here.” Evelyn was a little taken aback by how mature Alaric was coming across. There was no rogue charm or boyish jokes interrupting their words, just gentle sincerity of a friend who missed her.

He reached out and linked his fingers with hers once again, using it to draw her close to his side and under his arm.

They sped up and joined back into one large group as the castle loomed ever closer, and  Evelyn’s friends slipped into easy conversation as Evelyn’s thoughts wandered.

Tom doesn’t care. He doesn’t want anything with me, and he never will. The sooner you understand this Evie the better. You should have given Alaric a chance. But deep down she knew it was better that it had played out this way; if she’d dated Alaric straight away, the thought of ‘what if’ would have eventually ruined their relationship. At least this way she could put Tom Riddle to rest in her mind.

She was brought back into the present by bright laughter spilling out from the group. The contrast to her quiet, intimate evenings with Tom were dizzying.

Alaric and Evelyn eventually waved goodbye to the other two as they arrived outside the Hufflepuff common room, dropping them off with a promise of meeting up first thing in the morning to decompress and share stories about their respective holidays.

Alaric and Evelyn wandered with no real destination in mind, eventually stopping outside an empty classroom and slipping inside. Evelyn perched on a tall side table, her legs dangling off the edge as Alaric leaned next to her. He plopped his chin in his hand, gazing at her with warm, green eyes.

“Hey,” He said softly, capturing her attention, “I know something’s on your mind.”

Evelyn let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. “It’s nothing.” She said dismissively, reaching out and squeezing his arm.

Alaric remained unconvinced. “Nothing?” He pressed, lightly teasing but with genuine concern.

Evelyn considered him, her lips pursed, wondering if her friend would be able to handle the truth of what had happened over the Christmas break. He certainly seemed different, calm and mature and entirely present, but she chalked that up to whatever it was that had happened when he was in France.

She sighed, a bitter laugh slipping out. “I had…a moment…with someone yesterday. It didn’t end well.” The words tasted strange on her tongue.

Alaric’s eyes narrowed slightly, reading between the lines, his nose scrunching as understanding dawned on him. He didn’t need her to say more, but he remained quiet, his hand coming to rest gently on her waist. He rubbed soothing circles into her side, trying to convey that he was listening.

She swallowed uneasily, her eyes flickering up to his uncertainly. “It hurt more than I expected.” She admitted quietly. Alaric sighed, and moved to fully stand in front of her, capturing her in a hug.

“I’m sorry,” He said, and Evelyn was relieved that he didn’t choose to start something over it, “I can’t make someone else care, but I can promise you that I do.”

“Alaric…you seem so different. What happened over Christmas?” Evelyn asked earnestly.

He shifted slightly, letting the warmth of his body and the steadying press of his hands on her back speak before he answered. He let out a long, slow breath, gathering his thoughts carefully.

“Different.” He echoed, a ghost of his boyish grin appearing. “I suppose I had a lot of time to think. I realised some things…about what I really want, and about what matters.”

Evelyn could sense there was more than what he was saying, but she didn’t press.

“…I wasn’t in the right headspace for anyone, Evie. Not even you. Like I said, I was being an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Evelyn said kindly, “you were going through something. I’m just sorry that I couldn’t be there to support you.”

Alaric shook his head fervently, running his hand through his hair. It had grown longer over the break. They stood in silence for a bit, both lost in their own thoughts.

Evelyn’s stomach twisted, a strange, fluttering ache surging through her as the memory of her kiss with Tom from the previous night resurfaced. The intensity, the raw, desperate need…Alaric’s kiss outside the Slytherin party had been sweet and reverent, as if she were something fragile and precious. Tom’s had been urgent, almost like he would suffocate if he didn’t claim her lips.

As if reading her troubled thoughts, Alaric gently tilted her face to return her attention back to him.

“You know, if it were anyone else treating you like that, I would have - well, I might have throttled them.” He nudged her playfully, his voice mischievous.

Evelyn laughed, nudging him back. “I think you are exaggerating.”

“Not a bit,” He insisted, linking their fingers again, “but honestly…don’t let it get to you. People like that aren’t worth your time.” He paused. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really. I just needed to experience it, I guess. But…I don’t think it’s good for either of us to keep going like that right now.” She twirled a strand of hair round her finger, lost in thought for a second. They both knew who they were referring to.

Alaric nodded,he felt furiously jealous and curious about what had actually happened. He drummed his fingers gently against the side, chewing on his lip as he lost his internal battle. He needed to know what happened.

“I see,” He murmured, “I’m glad you shared that with me.” Another pause. “What exactly happened?”

Evelyn laughed softly, a nervous, airy sound. She shook her head, a faint blush colouring her cheeks.

“I’m not going to give you all the details, it’s…complicated.” Alaric hummed, lightly tickling her sides to make her squeal.

“Complicated is my favourite kind of story.” He said, leaning in. “I can handle complicated.”

Evelyn laughed freely this time, fiddling with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Nothing like that, if that’s what you’re thinking. Just a…kiss.”

Alaric’s eyebrow shot up, a teasing smirk tugging his lips, though there was a flicker of jealousy in his gaze.

“A kiss?” He repeated, teasing her, “And here I was thinking you’d been indulging in some scandalous adventure.”

They shared a laugh, with Evelyn rolling her eyes playfully.

“It wasn’t scandalous in the slightest,” Alaric’s shoulders loosened, “It was fleeting and over and clearly a mistake. I think it’s better if we leave it at that.”

“I’m just glad you didn’t…let him hurt you.” Alaric hedged around what he wasn’t saying carefully, although Evelyn blushed and hid her face in his shoulder. Alaric laughed at her discomfort, relieved that it really was just a kiss and not anything more. He didn’t think he’d be able to handle it.

“Right, we should probably head to the common room. I’m sure you need to unpack before we head down to dinner.” Evelyn allowed Alaric to help her down from the side table, his hands large and grounding at her waist.

They descended down the corridors to their common room, Evelyn listening to Alaric’s easy stories all the while, but she couldn’t shake the strange twist in her stomach - the memory of one boy’s consuming kiss, and the tenderness of another’s - two different kinds of gravity pulling her in opposite directions.

For the first time, she wondered how much longer she could endure.

Chapter Text

Dissonance 

The library was quieter than usual, the hush settling like a weight over the shelves as students tried to ease back into their routines before the new term began. Tom sat on the edges of the main area, flanked by Lestrange and Avery as they reviewed their notes in preparation for the year ahead.

He was finding it difficult to concentrate.

There was that laugh again. Light, effortless…it cut across the room with startling clarity, and every time it did his eyes would flick, unbidden, towards the source. Evelyn Bennett sat a few tables away, her dark hair catching the morning light as it cascaded down her back, her posture unguardedly at ease. She was surrounded by the insufferable company of the Hufflepuff twins and that infernal Blackwood.

He glared at her back, his jaw tight as he tried to concentrate on the parchment before him. Irritation flared to life in his chest as he thought back to their Christmas spent together. She had been impossible to manage - her smile, her laugh, her easy companionship - it had all been too much for him. He had allowed her to get too close, and then it had resulted in that night.

It came back to him with infuriating sharpness - the kiss.

The feel of her lips against his, warm and soft, had disarmed him in a way nothing else ever had. He had intended to break it almost as soon as it began, to prove to himself that he was above such things, but he hadn’t. He had started it. For the first time in his life, he had let someone in too close, and now the memory of the whole affair clung to him like a stain he couldn’t clean. He had kissed her as if his life depended on it, clutched at her waist as if she was something precious - as if she were his, and it shamed him.

And then, to add insult to injury, she had given him a new diary as a gift. His first Christmas present. In his mind it was almost worse than the kiss. Evelyn had not only remembered something he had said in passing, but then had chosen a thoughtful present for him. She had offered it with tentative pride as if she were placing her heart in his hands, doe eyed and blushing, vulnerable, and utterly impossible to resist.

Tom had spent the last few days recalibrating. Adjusting his behaviour. Maintaining distance. Keeping the warmth and levity at bay. He wouldn’t avoid her entirely (because he needed to observe), but there would be no easy conversations, no small touches, and certainly no giving her glimpses of him that she could interpret as approachable.

Still…Tom Riddle couldn’t stop noticing her. For all his impressive self-control, it seemed to evaporate the moment Evelyn Bennett was involved.

“He’s staring again.” Harriet muttered, pretending to stretch as she peaked past Evelyn.

“Honestly, does he ever do anything else?” Adrian joked, reclining back in his seat. He closed his book with a thud, clearly done studying.

Alaric hummed, dipping his head down to Evelyn’s ear as he surreptitiously glanced at the other boy through her hair. “Maybe he’s just jealous.” His arm draped across her shoulders, fighting back a smirk as Tom’s gaze intensified.

“Alaric - “ Evelyn stifled a laugh, her back tingling uncomfortably, “people will be staring.”

“Who cares?” He countered, tilting his head so his hair fell into his eyes in that teasing, dishevelled way, “let them stare. I’m just being friendly…maybe a little more than friendly.”

Harriet groaned, eyes sparkling with exasperation. “Honestly, you two - when are you going to just date already?”

Adrian grinned, shaking his head. “Yeah, I can’t believe you’re flirting so openly now, and in the library of all places. You’re practically asking for a scandal.”

Evelyn huffed, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. She didn’t want to upset Tom, but he was the one who had chosen to ignore her in the first place. And besides…she couldn’t deny how flattering it felt to have Alaric’s undivided attention, selfish as that might be.

“So,” Harriet leaned forward conspiratorially, “we’ve wasted ten minutes getting settled in. We’re all dying to know. Tell us Evie, how was your Christmas with Tom?”

“Well…” Evelyn began, glancing down at her hands for a moment before meeting her friends’ eager eyes, “we spent most of the break at the castle. We didn’t really do much - just walked through the corridors, talked, read. We even played chess.” A soft smile appeared on her face as she spoke.

“Sounds boring.” Adrian joked, although his eyes were sharp as he watched Evelyn. His eyes darted over to Alaric as she continued to speak.

“We did go to Hogsmeade and look around the shops. All in all it was actually rather lovely.” She paused, biting her lip. Did she dare reveal more? Then, almost without thinking she blurted out; “We actually kissed two days ago!”

“Evie! You didn’t!” Harriet exclaimed, gasping.

“What!” Adrian let his chair legs fall to the ground with a bang, causing heads to whip round to look at them. Alaric’s fingers drummed on the table in annoyance, despite already knowing what had occurred.

“How the hell did that come about? I didn’t think Riddle was even capable…” Adrian trailed off awkwardly, as though even he was unsure how to phrase the impossibility of it.

Harriet glanced over to the boy in question and then back at Evelyn, her gaze thoughtful.

“Neither did I to be honest.” Evelyn laughed, though her chest twisted painfully. “It just kind of happened. It was intense…he kissed me first.” Evelyn let a giggle slip out as Harriet squealed.

Alaric’s leg began to bounce up and down in quiet frustration, a small frown on his face. Evelyn had already mentioned their kiss, but hearing it again in the morning - without the softening effect of seeing her after such a long stretch of time - made the jealousy twisting in his chest flare tenfold.

“But…?” Harriet prompted.

“Well, we’ve had a bit of a falling out since.” Evelyn confessed, her cheeks pink.

Harriet leaned forwards, her brow knitting with concern. “A falling out? Over a kiss? Evie, what happened?”

Alaric started to stroke Evelyn’s arm, whether it was to soothe her or himself was yet to be seen. Evelyn, meanwhile, felt an embarrassed heat crawling up her neck; she couldn’t bring herself to tell anyone about the conversation that had followed - the question she’d asked Tom about wanting a relationship, the cold, categorical ‘no’ that had cut her down to the bone, how upset she had felt afterwards…

“Tom’s been avoiding me. He doesn’t want to talk about it.” She briefly leaned into Alaric’s side, grateful when he seemed to pull her closer. She could feel the prickle of Tom’s stare from across the library.

Adrian threw his hands in the air, his face red from indignation. “He kissed you first! And now he’s ignoring you? That’s ridiculous - who even does that? I hope you’re ignoring him right back, Evie. I’m not afraid of teaching Riddle a lesson, if he thinks he can mess you around...” He scowled, spinning his wand between his fingers.

Harriet rolled her eyes, nudging him sharply in the ribs. “Adrian, calm down. There’s clearly more to this story. I’m sorry he’s treating you like this.” She directed the last part to Evelyn.

“Well…he’s always been complicated - “

“Stop making excuses for him, Evie!” Alaric exclaimed in frustration. “Honestly, just ignore him. I’ve always known he was a prat, and this just confirms it.” Evelyn glanced up at him, startled by the passion in his voice.

“Thank you, I guess I needed to hear that. Anyway, it’s not the end of the world.” Evelyn murmured, her lips pressing into a small, grateful smile. She squeezed Alaric, who squeezed her back.

“Exactly, it’s not the end of the world.” Harriet repeated, though her expression promised that they would talk more later when it was just them two. “Hang on…” Harriet’s eyes narrowed. “That’s new, Evie. It’s beautiful!”

Before Evelyn could react, Harriet’s hand was already halfway across the table, carefully pinching the fine chain of her necklace between her fingers. She tilted it so it caught the light, glinting.

“It’s good quality too. You weren’t wearing this before the holidays, were you?”

Evelyn froze, her hand reaching up as though to confirm that it was there. Her stomach fluttered, she could feel Alaric’s eyes on her, sharp and unrelenting.

She cleared her throat. “Oh - um,” Evelyn blushed as she tried for casualness, “it was a Christmas present from Tom.” The effect was immediate; Harriet squealed so loudly that everyone turned to look at them, including the said prefect in question.

Oh Merlin. Evelyn sighed, letting her head fall into her hands.

“Tom Riddle got you jewellery? That’s practically a statement!”

Evelyn hushed her friend in misery, turning to look at Adrian for help. He watched the exchange with lazy amusement, letting out a low whistle.

“Tom Riddle, of all people. You must be very special, Evie.” His smirk widened. “Alaric, did you hear that?”

Alaric was slouched in his chair, arms folded loosely across his chest. He was wearing the sort of smile that looked like it had been painted on. His eyes, however, betrayed him; they were narrowed and stormy, focusing on the necklace that rested against her chest.

“Oh, I heard,” He said lightly, though his tone was sharper than it should have been, “Riddle’s got expensive taste, apparently.”

Evelyn felt her blush deepen. “It’s just a necklace! Honestly, you’re all acting as if he got down on one knee and proposed, for Merlin’s sake.”

Harriet’s eyebrows started to climb her forehead. “He might as well have, giving you jewellery and - ” Her voice lowered, “ - kissing you.”

Alaric exhaled noisily.

Adrian grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “So, what did you get him? Can’t be one-sided, after all.”

Evelyn fiddled with her quill before setting it down. “I got him a new diary.”

Adrian blinked, then let out a bark of laughter. “You exchanged jewellery for stationery? That’s brutal.”

“I didn’t even think he’d buy me a present!” Evelyn defended herself, aiming a light kick at Adrian under the table.

Harriet swatted him on the arm. “It’s thoughtful. You know Riddle is always writing.”

Just as silence was starting to settle over the group, Alphard Nott strode past, his eyes flicking over the group before landing on Harriet with a faint, polished smile.

“Good morning,” He inclined his head at everyone, “Harriet, I hope you had a good Christmas.” He drew to a stop at the desk, inspecting the scattered bits of parchment and quills with interest. “And thank you for writing to me all break. Your letters were a brief reprieve from my otherwise boring family.”

Harriet blushed lightly in response, her eyes shining. “I’m glad. Thank you for writing me back.”

“Of course.” Alphard paused. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation about Evelyn’s gift from Tom. May I?”

Evelyn glanced at her friends and shrugged, holding up the necklace so Alphard could inspect it from afar.

“It’s very fine quality,” He nodded knowingly.

“That’s good to know.” Evelyn replied softly, throwing him a small smile. Alphard let his eyes linger on Evelyn for just a second longer before they slid over to Alaric. His gaze sharpened, a smirk disguised a smile playing on his lips.

“I can imagine you’d never stop bragging if Evelyn got you something expensive and shiny, Blackwood.”

The barb came out of nowhere, but  Alaric remained unperturbed. Instead, he raised a brow and forced a laugh, slinging his arm around Evelyn’s shoulders once again.

“Oh, I don’t need trinkets to brag about. Not my style.”

Alphard considered him knowingly. “And yet you still would have liked one, wouldn’t you?” He excused himself without giving Alaric a chance to respond, leaving the blond glaring after him.

“I don’t know what you see in him.” Adrian tutted, shaking his head at his sister. Harriet huffed and chose not to reply, instead dropping her eyes back to her notes.

“Excuse me, I’ll be right back.” Evelyn murmured, drifting over to a nearby bookcase. Her nose scrunched as she pretended to search for a book, running her fingers along the spines until she found one at random. She pulled it out the shelf, eyes skimming it in disinterest as her nerves settled.

She felt Tom’s dark gaze tracking her every step, a prickling awareness crawling up her spine. He had been incessantly watching her, and she thought standing up and moving might shake him out of whatever dark reverie he was in. 

She thought wrong.

Glancing over her shoulder, she caught his eyes for a brief moment and hesitated, half-raising her hand in a shy wave. He turned his head sharply away, ignoring her entirely. With a small, resigned sigh, she dropped her gaze and began to pivot back toward the table - only to collide with Alaric. He steadied her instantly, his soft grin easing the knot that had started to form in her chest.

“Alaric! You startled me.” She breathed, clutching her hand to her chest.

“Sorry Evie, thought I’d make sure you’re okay. Saw Riddle staring again.”

“Yes, I noticed.” Evelyn twisted her hands, a small frown on her face.

Alaric regarded her for a moment, his soft grin turning wicked in an instant. “Let’s give him something to stare at, shall we?”

Evelyn’s eyes widened in question, but Alaric was already stepping closer to her, fingers entwining with hers. He squeezed, enjoying how red Evelyn’s face was. He allowed his hand to brush upward along her arm, slow and deliberate, and Evelyn shivered.

“Alaric! You really are being scandalous!” She whispered, glancing round in case the head librarian was lurking nearby.

Alaric ignored her, his eyes bright as he lifted his hand to cup the side of her face. “Just relax.” He murmured softly. “You should see Riddle’s face, he looks like he’s about to explode.”

Evelyn felt a guilty thrill ripple through her, feeling entirely out of character as she stood so intimately close with Alaric. But Tom had genuinely hurt her, and a small, rebellious part of her wondered - was it really so wrong to give him a taste of his own medicine?

“I don’t know about this…” Evelyn trailed off, blushing as Alaric’s other hand came up to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She swallowed nervously as he leaned down, his breath tickling her jaw.

“You know,” He whispered, “it’s really unfair how easily you distract me.” Evelyn couldn’t help the goosebumps that broke out over her skin, her pulse quickening. After a beat Evelyn chose to giggle quietly, pushing him away gently in the process. Side-stepping him, she returned to their shared table, Alaric trailing behind with a smug grin.

She couldn’t help it as her eyes darted over to Tom once again. Their eyes connected, but this time he didn’t look away; he was sitting rigidly in his chair, impossibly still, his jaw tight as he glared straight at her. Evelyn blinked, her eyes dropping hastily to her parchment.

To be on the receiving end of Tom Riddle’s anger was not something she wanted to experience.

Eventually, Tom managed to reign his temper in, instead choosing to burn a hole with his glare through his own notes, the muscles in his hand aching from how hard he gripped his quill. A thin crack split across the nib, ink bleeding onto the page. He didn’t bother blotting it, his mind blank and full of static.

He was going to kill Alaric Blackwood.

Violence prowled through his chest, clawing to be unleashed. When he had seen the way Blackwood had followed her to the shelf - and then entwined their hands as if it meant something - he’d nearly given in, nearly torn the other boy apart right there between the stacks of books.

But he hadn’t. He sat, the picture of composure, coiled in his chair like a predator biding its time. To storm out now would be surrender, a concession he refused to give. No - he would remain. Silent. Immovable. Watching.

Let them wonder how much I saw. He thought viciously, ignoring Avery’s ever-growing alarmed glances. Let her twist beneath the weight of it. Let her fear what he might do next.

Tom sat before his followers, his expression unreadable, carved into something cold and regal. The other boys were gathered before him in a rough semi-circle, surrounding him like the spokes of a wheel.

Tom let the silence grow until they started to shift in their seats uncomfortably, sharing strained glances until he spoke.

“You’ve all proven yourselves useful.” He said softly, and at once the tension in the room coiled tighter. His words were praise, but praise from Tom was always laced with iron. “But I do not gather you here merely to celebrate our small victories. The time has come to refine our purpose.”

Mulciber dipped his head, his voice quivering. “What purpose, My Lord?”

A smile ghosted over Tom’s lips, though it never touched his eyes. “My blood.”

The Room of Requirement remained deathly silent, barring the sharp intake of breath from the group. Tom let the confusion linger for a moment before he rose from his chair. His voice carried with sharp clarity, commanding attention.

“You already know what I am. What I can do. I am the only one in this castle who speaks the language of serpents, the only one who can command them. I have no need to prove I am Slytherin’s heir - it is self-evident.”

He began to pace the circle, and their gazes followed him like compass needles.

“But heritage matters. Proof matters. Wizards cling to lineage as if it makes them strong, as if it guarantees power. And though we know blood alone is not enough, it is…useful. Very useful. A weapon to wield against those who would doubt me.”

He stopped behind Avery’s chair. The boy tensed. Tom rested a hand lightly on his shoulder.

“I have reason to believe my mother’s bloodline carries the name Marvolo. It is rare. Almost extinct. But the name is not unknown. It was once spoken with respect, and fear.”

Mulciber swallowed audibly from across the circle. Lestrange’s brows drew together, thoughtful.

“Your task,” Tom continued smoothly, “is simple. Avery, Lestrange - you will search your family archives. Every letter, every record, every scrap of parchment that might hold mention of the name Marvolo*.* Bring everything to me, no matter how trivial it seems.”

Lestrange inclined his head at once. “Of course.”

Avery hesitated a fraction longer, then nodded quickly.

“And the rest of you,” Tom said, sweeping the circle with his gaze, “will keep your ears sharp. Families talk. Gossip is as revealing as any record. If you hear whispers of an old house, a disgraced line, a forgotten name - you will bring it to me.”

Rosier grinned, thrilled by the sense of conspiracy. Nott merely gave the faintest nod, his eyes calculating.

Tom stilled again at the centre of the circle, his eyes glittering in the low lighting.

“Understand this,” He said softly, though his voice cut through the air like steel. “This is not idle curiosity. I am not some schoolboy searching for a family crest to scribble in the margins of his diary. I am seeking the foundation of our future. The line of Slytherin runs through me, and I will claim it. Through blood, through proof, through power. Nothing will stand in my way.”

The air seemed to constrict, heavy with his conviction. Even Rosier’s usual smirk had faded, replaced by something closer to awe.

At last Tom sat, his composure unbroken, his gaze sharp. “Do not fail me. When I call again, you will bring me something. And should you not…” He let the silence hang, oppressive and deliberate, before finishing lowly, “You will not enjoy the consequences.”

The fire popped loudly in the silence that followed. One by one, the Knights bowed their heads.

And then Mulciber cleared his throat.

The sound was soft, but it might as well have been a thunderclap. Every head turned sharply towards him, eyes narrowing in disbelief. No one spoke when Tom Riddle finished speaking.

“My Lord…” His voice wavered. He coughed, trying to steady it. “There’s…something else I wondered. If I may.”

Tom, still lounging in his chair like a dark king, tilted his head slowly. His eyes found Mulciber’s with a look so sharp the boy almost flinched.

“Speak.” Tom said, silky soft.

Mulciber swallowed, looking around the room for support. He found none. “It’s only - only that I’ve been wondering about Bennett. She’s often…around you.” He faltered as a wave of incredulous stares struck him from the rest of the circle. “I only mean - I was curious where she…fits. Into your plans?” He dropped his gaze, fighting the urge to wipe at his perspiring forehead.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Tom did not blink. He did not move. His face was perfectly composed, but something darker began to pulse beneath the surface, like storm clouds gathering behind glass.

When he finally spoke, his voice was no louder than before, but it was colder. “You were curious.”

Mulciber nodded quickly, already regretting opening his mouth. “Yes, My Lord. Only because it seemed - I mean, you and she - ”

Tom cut across him, smooth as a blade sliding free of its sheath. “Do you presume to question me?”

The fire hissed. Mulciber went pale. “No, of course not, I - ”

“And yet,” Tom continued, his tone calm, measured, and utterly terrifying, “you have asked me something that is none of your concern. You have spoken her name to me, here, as if you have the right to place her within the order of my plans. As if you imagine yourself privy to my intentions.”

Mulciber stammered, “I only thought - ”

Tom stood in one fluid motion, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop. His eyes glittered with a fury so controlled it was more frightening than a shout.

“You thought wrong.” He hissed this last word, his wand slipping into his hand.

He stepped forward, and Mulciber shrank back into his chair. “Evelyn Bennett,” Tom said, voice low and venomous, “is not for you to speak of. She is not for you to speculate about. She is mine to decide, as is everything else. And the next time you presume to question me, you will not walk away.”

He flicked his wand.

Mulciber’s back arched violently as pain tore through him. He writhed in his seat, unable to free himself. His gasp twisted into a strangled cry, his fingers clawing uselessly at the arms of his chair. The others stiffened but dared not move, and dared not look away. The sound of his choked whimpering filled the air, drawn out just long enough to burn itself into their memories.

At last Tom released him. Mulciber sagged forward, trembling, sweat beading on his brow.

Tom regarded him coolly, as though observing something weak and distasteful. “Let that be a lesson to all of you,” He said softly, his eyes flicked over to Alphard for a second, “my affairs are not yours. My plans are mine alone. Your task is to serve, not to pry. Do you understand?”

“Yes, My Lord.” Came the chorus, immediate and breathless.

Tom’s eyes lingered on Mulciber one final time, the faintest curl of contempt at the edge of his lips. Then he turned, settling back into his chair, every inch the composed ruler once again.

“Good.” He murmured. “Now. We will return to business.”

Evelyn and Harriet dissolved into giggles, exiting the greenhouses with their arms linked. The sun had dipped slightly, the afternoon now stretching into the early evening. They had spent a good few hours after lunch gossiping about Tom, about Alphard, Christmas in general, and the new year ahead.

Harriet harboured hope that her friendship with Nott would grow into something more, something Evelyn encouraged softly. They had unravelled and dissected Evelyn’s kiss with Tom, and spoke about what she would do moving forwards.

Eventually, Evelyn had settled on leaving Tom to his own devices. She would be civil if they needed to speak, but she was done trying to force their friendship now. If he wanted to be in her life, he was going to have to make the effort, and most importantly apologise for his hurtful words by the Black Lake. Harriet had managed to speak some sense into her, reminding her that it was not normal to give someone a necklace, kiss them, and then ignore them afterwards. Evelyn wholeheartedly agreed.

She had missed her bubbly Hufflepuff friend, her beautiful anchor who made this mess between the boys seem far less stressful.

“Thank you.” Evelyn murmured, grateful for their heart to heart and catch up.

“Of course.” Harriet whispered back, squeezing her friend's arm in support. They rounded the corner and started to walk across the grounds, approaching the courtyard. Evelyn stopped short as they rounded a corner; just off the gravel path, near a frost-covered hedge, stood Alaric.

And another girl.

At first, Evelyn thought nothing of it - Alaric was very friendly, and always seemed to attract people towards him - but this time it seemed different. They were standing far closer than he normally would with anyone else, their heads bent low as they conversed. Although they weren’t touching, his body was fully angled towards her and they stood closely.

“Who’s that?” Evelyn asked aloud, her stomach twisting unpleasantly. Harriet hesitated, for once looking closed off.

“Rosalind Turner.”

“…Oh.”

So this is Rosalind Turner. Evelyn took her as they resumed walking, her chest tight. Rosalind was pretty (of course she was), with sleek, blonde hair that she wore in a low ponytail with a blue bow. She had a slender, willowy build that made her look elegant even in the plain school cloak she wore. Her brown eyes crinkled as she laughed, her hand resting just a little too long on Alaric’s shoulder.

‘There was a fling, nothing serious, obviously.’

Tom’s words echoed back in her mind, making her feel suddenly sick. Her face felt hot with anger - she remembered how caring Alaric had been towards her once he’d returned to Hogwarts, how his attention had seemed focused on only her, even earlier in the library together, their fingers entwined…he had spent the last two days looking at her as if she was all he’d thought about throughout the holidays, and yet here he was, practically pressed up against the Ravenclaw girl.

“Do you know her?” Evelyn asked, her heart racing.

Harriet hesitated again. “Not really, I’ve only spoken to her in passing. Seems nice enough, I suppose.”

Ah, right. She doesn’t know that I know. Evelyn could only nod in response, unable to speak. She pushed her shoulders back and forced herself to keep walking, Harriet reluctantly following behind. As they neared the two, Alaric noticed them first. The instant his eyes met Evelyn’s, he straightened and took half a step back, his hands in his pockets. His expression hovered somewhere between surprise and unease, before slipping to something that looked a lot like guilt.

“Harriet, Evie!” He greeted, offering them a small wave.

Rosalind turned, blinking at the two girls with a pleasant smile, clearly oblivious to the sudden change in Alaric’s demeanour.

“Hello,” She said warmly, “long time no speak, Hattie! And you must be Evelyn Bennett.” Evelyn frowned at the familiar nickname Rosalind used with Harriet, but tried to smile politely in return.

“Yes, it's lovely to meet you.”

There was pause.

Rosalind glanced at Alaric uneasily, before smiling again. “You two were in the greenhouses? You can never stay away, Hattie.”

“You know me!” Harriet said awkwardly, her grin strained. Evelyn remained silent, not quite understanding what was happening. Firstly, Harriet and Rosalind seemed to know each other more than ‘ in passing’, and why had Alaric almost looked guilty? And then there was the issue of Rosalind - why was she even here at all, talking with him?

Alaric was visibly uncomfortable, his eyes dancing between Evelyn and Rosalind like he wanted to explain something but couldn’t. His neck was flushed, and he looked positively miserable. He eyed Harriet for help, who cleared her throat suddenly.

“We should probably head in, dinner won’t wait!” She tried to sound light-hearted, but it came across hollow.

“Right.” Alaric mumbled, falling into step with them. Rosalind joined them, finally pealing away when she spotted her own friends.

“Good-bye Alaric, Hattie. It was nice meeting you Evelyn!” She called over her shoulder, her gaze lingering on Alaric as she left. They entered the Great Hall, splitting off to their house tables. Evelyn and Alaric didn’t speak, and Evelyn couldn’t help but think of the way he had been with her the night before. Like she was the only girl in the world.

And now - Rosalind Turner.

The dissonance left her feeling dizzy, and more than a little foolish.

Chapter Text

Saturday mornings were usually quiet in Slytherin, where the dungeon felt more like a sanctuary than a battlefield of words and stares. It was for this very reason that Evelyn dressed quickly, eager to enjoy her own company and mull over the last few days in peace.

She grabbed her latest book she was reading and hurried down the stairs, freezing as she reached the bottom.

Tom Riddle was already there.

He was seated in an armchair off to the side, a book balanced on one knee whilst he scribbled in some parchment on the armrest. For a moment, Evelyn thought about turning back up the stairs, pretending she’d forgotten something, but it was already too late - his dark eyes had flicked up and landed on her already, before dropping back down to his book.

Evelyn felt her stomach drop, but she carried on towards one of the tables, setting her things down gently. She hated to admit it, but her heart stung at the lack of acknowledgment. How could it be possible that only a few days ago they’d spent all of Christmas break together, and even exchanged gifts and kissed?

Her face burned as she pulled out a chair and sat, starting to read her book. Her eyes scanned the page, but she couldn’t take any words in. Every part of her was attuned to the boy across the room.

Pretend he’s not there, he’s been ignoring you - you can do the same.

And yet…her resolve was already fraying.

She shifted, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Her finger tapped nervously against the table. She caught herself glancing up - once, twice - every time, Tom was in the exact same position, utterly still, head bent over his work as though she did not exist.

The longer it went on, the more Evelyn was beginning to find it unbearable. It wasn’t just silence, it was deliberate. He was making a point. She let out a little sigh and lowered her book, glancing at him resolutely.

“Good morning.” She ventured at last, her voice small but steady.

No answer.

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. She swallowed hard, and tried again. “I didn’t think anyone else would be awake yet.” Still nothing. Not a twitch, not even a breath.

This is ridiculous. I’m not going to beg for his attention. Not after everything.

Dropping her eyes back down, she tried to read. The minutes ticked by agonisingly slowly, until forty minutes had passed in the blink of an eye. A few students had drifted down the stairs as she read, but they hadn’t lingered, much to her despair.

Tom suddenly shifted in his chair, causing Evelyn’s head to snap up. She watched him for a moment, wondering if he was going to speak to her, but he didn’t.

She looked away quickly, biting the inside of her cheek. Her resolve to ignore him, to punish him with her own silence, clearly wasn’t working.

She hated that he knew it.

Because of course he knew.

Tom Riddle never did anything by accident; his silence was a weapon, honed and deliberate, and Evelyn could already feel herself bleeding under the edge of it.

She folded her arms over her book, staring at the same sentence until the words blurred. Her chest felt tight and her stomach twisted in knots. All she wanted was for him to say something - anything - that would break the awful distance between them.

The silence in the common room had begun to fray Evelyn’s nerves. Tom remained a statue across from her, quill scratching steadily, eyes never lifting. She wanted to scream at him or shake him, but instead she pressed her lips together and forced herself to stare at her open book.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps on the stairs made her head lift, relief flooding her body at the arrival of someone else.

Alaric.

He emerged with his hair rumpled, still pulling on the sleeves of his jumper, his usual lazy grin forming the moment he saw her. “Morning, Evie.” He drawled, voice thick with sleep. “Thought I’d catch you down here this early.” He glanced over at Tom in the corner, quirking an eyebrow in confusion before turning back to the witch.

Normally, Evelyn would have greeted him warmly, but this morning she remained cool, her mood already dampened by Tom’s refusal to speak with her.

“Good morning.” She said simply, glancing up at him. Alaric hummed, grin faltering as he registered the distance in her tone. He crossed the room anyway, sliding in opposite her. He studied her, running a hand through his hair; he was too practiced at disarming people with charm, but Evelyn wasn’t biting.

What should he do? Best to keep things light, normal.

“What book are you reading?” He asked conversationally, plucking it out of her hands.

Evelyn blinked at him, her hands curling under the desk as she wondered how to phrase her question.

“Rosalind - who is she to you?” She hadn’t meant for it to come out so bluntly, but now that it was out in the open she wasn’t going to let it go. From across the room, the steady scratching sound stopped. Tom had paused mid-word, quill perfectly still in his hand. His head hadn’t lifted, nor had his eyes strayed from his parchment, but every part of him was listening.

“She’s no one,” Alaric replied quickly, “I just…know her.” He shrugged helplessly.

“That’s not really an answer.” Evelyn pressed, her eyes sharp. She took a steadying breath, reminding herself that she had no right to question Alaric like this, not really.

“Evie - ”

“Sorry. It’s fine, you don’t need to tell me anything. I was just wondering.” Evelyn relented, fighting the urge to rub her head in exasperation. Alaric opened his mouth and closed it again. He hated that flicker of coolness in her eyes, and hated how she remained unsmiling.

“Hey,” Alaric’s voice softened, the edge of a teasing grin on his face, “you’re relentless this morning. What’s going on? You interrogating me?” Alaric felt triumphant as Evelyn huffed, her face breaking out into a reluctant smile.

She paused before she spoke again. “You’ve just never mentioned her before, that’s all.”

“Should I have? Are you keeping tabs on me, Bennett?” Alaric was teasing her now, all soft looks and rogue smiles and she blushed, rolling her eyes good-naturedly.

“Hardly.” She replied, flipping a page in her book.

Alaric hummed, his eyes sparkling. “You’re asking a lot of questions for someone who’s not jealous.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Evelyn exclaimed, appalled when her face flushed red. Her eyes darted over to Tom, who was openly watching their exchange.

Great. She thought in irritation.

“Hey,” He reached over and captured her hand in his, his gaze softening, “she doesn’t mean anything to me. Not like you.” His thumb was warm as he stroked her hand.

Evelyn’s breath caught as she tried to decipher what he meant by that.

The second Alaric’s hand had held hers, Tom had risen from his seat, gathered his book and parchment in one hand and exited the common room, all without so much as a spare glance at them.

Tom Riddle had always prided himself on control. Control of his words, over his expression, even his very presence in a room. And, more importantly, control over others.

He had ignored Evelyn Bennett these past few days with purpose, watching to see how she would respond, expecting her persistence to fray into desperation - hoping that she would get the message he is not someone that she should be pining over.

But this morning, as he walked towards Potions, he caught sight of her ahead. She was standing with her books gathered neatly in her arms, waiting patiently for Slughorn to open the classroom doors. He scanned the rest of the corridor, briefly surprised when he saw no sight of Blackwood anywhere.

And then she looked up.

For an instant, their eyes nearly met. Tom felt the habitual readiness in her, the reflex to seek his gaze, to offer him that small, hopeful smile. But instead of lifting her face toward him, she deliberately turned - just slightly - and greeted Alphard with a soft ‘good morning’.

Nothing more.

No glance in Tom’s direction, no smile angled his way, no attempt to draw him into conversation. Hey eyes passed him as though he were anyone else in the corridor. He didn’t allow his steps to falter (although they very nearly did), instead choosing to wait with the rest of the students, his expression unreadable.

He half listened in as Alphard and Evelyn spoke softly to each other, confusion and irritation swirling in his chest.

He ought to have been pleased. This was what he had wanted, wasn’t it? To strip her of expectation, to teach her the futility of chasing him. Her withdrawal was proof that she had learned. She had taken the hint. He didn’t need her pathetic friendship.

So then why did it feel so hollow?

As they filed into the classroom, Tom settled into his usual seat. Alphard dropped onto the desk beside him, setting down his books with a sigh. Evelyn, without hesitation, chose a place further away, gesturing brightly to Blackwood when he turned up, dishevelled as ever.

Usually, Evelyn would still have tried to engage with him, perhaps glancing his way in an attempt to catch his eye, her uncertain smile a silent invitation for him to relent. The quiet determination in her persistence had amused him, like watching a moth fling itself against glass, stubborn and futile. But today she didn’t even look.

Was this indifference genuine? Had she truly tired of him, or was it another tactic - her own attempt at control, a reversal of the game?

The thought rankled.

He listened half-heartedly to Professor Slughorn as he spoke, his gaze occasionally straying toward Evelyn. She leaned forward slightly in her chair, hair falling across her face as she wrote. Her expression was intense, focused on the work before her. She looked, maddeningly, as though he were irrelevant.

Tom tapped the end of his quill against the parchment, not realising he was frowning as he watched her.

It doesn’t matter.

Evelyn Bennett was nothing more than a mediocre student, destined for a mediocre life. She would marry, bear children, and pass into obscurity - unremarkable in every respect, forgotten soon after she was gone. At best, she would be a footnote in the story of Lord Voldemort, barely worth recalling, one of countless others who had admired him.

If she had finally ceased her pursuit, it was only confirmation of his superiority. He had bent her will without a word, and guided her into silence.

Still, the disquiet lingered.

Tom’s thoughts continued to roll as he mechanically followed Slughorn’s instructions, ignoring Alphard’s flickering eyes. He could tell the other boy was gauging the temperature of his mood, which in turn caused his mood to darken further.

“You’ve been ignoring Evelyn.” Alphard murmured, adding some horned slugs to his cauldron.

Tom didn’t look up from his mortar and pestle, though his jaw tightened imperceptibly.

“You state the obvious, Alphard.”

“Whatever happened over Christmas - “

“Stir counter-clockwise, Mr Nott! Don’t let it curdle!” Slughorn’s warning startled Alphard, who adjusted his stirring until the liquid morphed from dull brown to clear, pale gold. Only then did he continue.

“Whatever happened,” Alphard repeated under his breath, “it wasn’t nothing. I can guess.” He paused, eyes glittering as he considered Tom. “You kissed her.”

This time, Tom did glance up, his eyes narrowing just a fraction. He smiled razor sharp. “Astute.”

Alphard started to grind his porcupine quills harder, a frown on his face. He tried not to let his irritation show, keeping his voice level as he spoke again.

“Then why are you discarding her now? She’s not some - ”

“She needed to learn what her affections amount to.”

Alphard turned his gaze down to his cauldron, watching bubbles rise and pop. His next words slipped out before he could stop them. “Or perhaps she needed something you can’t give.”

The silence that followed was louder than Slughorn’s voice or the hiss of steam. Tom regarded him steadily, his voice pitched so low that Alphard nearly missed it.

“You think I haven’t noticed?” He said softly, “The way you look at her? Your pathetic lingering? You fancy her.”

Red dusted Alphard’s cheeks, but he forced himself not to look away. “That’s not - ”

“Deny it if you like.” Tom cut in smoothly, already turning back to his potion as though the matter was beneath him. His tone was casual, but the words were flint. “But spare me the hypocrisy of lecturing me on Evelyn Bennett when you covet her yourself. But then again…” He let the thought hang, then added with a curl of his lips, “Aren’t you courting her little friend, the Hufflepuff girl?”

Alphard glared off into the distance, his hands clenched at his sides. For one reckless moment, he thought about retorting, the words burning on his tongue…but Tom’s gaze was already on him, steady and unyielding, daring him to speak out of turn.

Alphard swallowed hard, forcing the words back down. His fists loosened just enough to reach for the ladle, to stir the potion with deliberate care. He told himself he didn’t care, that Tom wasn’t worth the breath. But the set of his jaw betrayed him.

Tom saw it all, of course. A shadow of a smile tugged at his mouth, cruel in its certainty. “Wise,” He said softly, too low for anyone else to hear, “it would be a shame if you forgot yourself again.”

When class ended, Evelyn gathered her things quickly. She spoke again to Alphard as she passed, a casual remark that drew a brief grin from him, then slipped out the door without a single acknowledgement of Tom.

Tom remained seated for a moment longer than necessary, watching the door close behind her.

He should have been satisfied.

But he wasn’t.

Two agonising weeks had passed since the new term had begun. Which meant two weeks of Tom Riddle pretending she didn’t exist. At first, Evelyn had been certain that Tom would eventually come round, that he’d break his silence and they could resume their quiet friendship…but nothing happened.

He remained utterly unmoved, his silence a wall she could neither scale nor breach. The first few days had been awful - each lesson, each accidental glance - they all served to remind her of what she’d lost.

But slowly, a kind of clarity settled over her. Who was Tom Riddle that she should let him consume her thoughts so much? She had survived sixteen years without him, and she could do it again.

Evelyn laughed to herself as she walked towards the library, shaking her head in disbelief.

Look at me, acting like a love struck fool! In hindsight, she was grateful that he had persevered and not so much as even breathed in her direction. It made the separation much easier to bear. It forced her to see him not as a companion who might return, but as someone she could no longer depend on for acknowledgement or friendship.

It didn’t make her feelings vanish. Admiration and desire were stubborn things, but they were no longer tied to the tentative hope that had blossomed in her chest. She could exist outside of his orbit, however reluctantly.

It was by the end of the second week where Evelyn was now beginning to feel a strange combination of relief and melancholy. She no longer hovered near him, no longer rehearsed casual greetings in her head or waited with baited breath to see if he would make eye contact with her.

She felt free.

Rounding the corner, Evelyn hurried into the library, the familiar hush of rustling pages and scratching quills settling over her. She wove her way through the shelves, eyes automatically scanning for her friends. They had taken their usual spot by the long window table, parchment and inkpots already scattered across its surface, and Evelyn quickened her pace toward them.

“I swear, Professor Beery enjoys watching us suffer.” Adrian was grumbling as she arrived, raking a frustrated hand through his hair.

Harriet gave a snort of laughter, lifting her quill in greeting as she waved at Evelyn. “You’re only suffering because you spent half the lesson trying to make Alicia Harrow laugh instead of listening to his lecture on Bubotubers.”

Evelyn smirked as she slid into the chair beside Alaric. This was the third time Alicia’s name had come up in conversation about Adrian, and she couldn’t help but wonder if the two were destined to start dating. She’d only seen the Ravenclaw once before, catching a glimpse of her in passing - a smiling girl with a mass of short, ginger curls brushing just above her shoulders, warm brown eyes, and a sprinkling of freckles across her face. Evelyn had to admit, they would make a rather charming couple, so she had her fingers crossed for them.

Alaric leaned back lazily in his chair, one arm slung over the backrest. With a smooth tug, he drew Evelyn’s chair a little closer to his, flashing Adrian a mischievous grin.

“Alicia Harrow, hm? I suppose she’s rather pretty.” He teased, voice low and amused.

Adrian scowled, snatching up a balled scrap of parchment and hurling it across the table. Alaric ducked easily, laughing quietly.

“Shut it.” Adrian muttered, though there was no real heat in his tone. He dropped back over his parchment with a resigned sigh.

Evelyn laughed, shaking her head as she settled into her seat. Still, she tucked the name away for later - Harriet would certainly have opinions, and she was eager to hear them. Her amusement softened as her gaze wandered toward Alaric. He had turned back to his textbook, his playful energy tempered into focus. His head was bowed, golden strands of hair tumbling across his brow, and for a fleeting moment Evelyn’s fingers itched with the urge to brush them aside.

He was certainly handsome, and the more she stared the more she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to kiss him again.

“Is this seat taken?”

They all turned at the sound of Rosalind Turner’s soft voice. She was standing at the edge of their table, books cradled in her arms as she observed the group. She looked a little hesitant, although her posture remained relaxed and confident.

There was a heartbeat of hesitation where nobody said anything, until Harriet smiled at her kindly.

“Not at all, please join us.”

Rosalind sat gracefully, stacking her books neatly next to her as she started pulling her homework out of her bag.

“Thank you,” She smiled warmly, letting her eyes linger on Alaric for a second before blushing, “I’ve been trying to catch up on some Charms work, and you looked like the only group not whispering about the upcoming Quidditch match.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Adrian interjected, “there’s plenty of Quidditch talk to come yet.”

The group resettled around Rosalind’s presence, although Evelyn almost felt awkward. Harriet was refusing to look up from her book, and even Adrian’s spirits seemed dampened. Alaric meanwhile, had coughed and adjusted his seat so there was a renewed space between them.

Evelyn wasn’t sure what it all meant.

Rosalind leaned forward, capturing Alaric’s attention. “I think I’ve managed to perfect that non-verbal summoning charm now. Look.” She raised her wand, focusing on his dormant snitch that lay on the table next to him, and it suddenly zoomed into her hand.

“Oh, well done! You’d really been struggling with that one.” Alaric replied, smiling in earnest as she tossed the snitch back to him.

“Well…I had some extra help over the holidays.” She teased, a knowing look in her eye. Her smile was coy as she picked up her quill, not once breaking eye contact with Alaric.

Adrian glanced between them and then at Evelyn, his mouth set in a firm line. He leaned back, smiling coolly as he spoke. “Sounds like you had some…additional help with your studies over Christmas.”

Rosalind giggled, the kind that carried both innocence and something more. Her eyes swept over to Alaric for a second before she answered. “You could say that.”

Evelyn blinked, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. She wasn’t sure what Rosalind meant, but something wasn’t right. It was if the rest of the group were in on a joke and didn’t want to share the punchline with her. Alaric twitched, his face flushing red.

It almost sounds like they…saw each other over the Christmas holidays? Surely not. Someone would have told me. Evelyn wasn’t stupid, she was clearly missing something, and she intended to find out sooner rather than later. Harriet would have at least mentioned it to her, wouldn’t she? But as she cast her mind back, she remembered how all three of them had skirted around the topic of Alaric Blackwood as if he didn’t exist.

Evelyn’s stomach dropped. Had they had another fling over the Christmas break?

“We’ve always been good at helping each other with charms, haven’t we?” Rosalind tucked some of her hair behind her ear, smiling. Her words were casual, but there was no doubt in Evelyn’s mind what she was implying.

“I guess we have.” Alaric let out a nervous laugh, his eyes meeting with Evelyn’s before he looked down. There was a mixture of guilt and an apology there, and Evelyn was certain her conclusion was correct.

You are an IDIOT Evelyn Bennett! How dense could you be? He wasn’t ‘going through something’ over Christmas, he was just too busy with her! They probably laughed over your letters together! And Harriet and Adrian have known this whole time!

Evelyn felt hot with humiliation and hurt, and she found that she couldn’t bear to be in the library around any of them for a moment longer. This explained why neither of the twins mentioned Alaric in their letters, it explained their awkwardness, she supposed they had all seen each other over Christmas and that’s where Rosalind’s familiarity with Harriet came from.

If this is what it’s like having friends, then I’m better off alone.

Evelyn made a show of casting tempus as she started to shove her books in her bag.

“I’m terribly sorry,” Her voice tumbled out in a rush, “I completely forgot I promised to meet Alphard to go over our notes from History of Magic.”

“Evie - ” Harriet started, her eyes shining with concern, but Evelyn had already marched off, her heart beating erratically.

Evelyn wasn’t sure where she was heading, she only knew that if she stopped walking she might collapse where she stood. She replayed how attentive Alaric had been with her since term had started; all the flirtatious touches, the teasing, the easy conversation, how close they had become…she had even thought that they might -

Evelyn cut the thought off before it could fully form, her cheeks flaring red in embarrassment. She had, for the last few days, began to consider the idea of them dating.

Fat chance of that now. She thought bitterly. She knew that technically Alaric hadn’t done anything wrong - they weren’t exclusive or together (and she had shared a kiss with Tom) - but she felt misled. Not just by Alaric, but by the twins too. How could no one tell her? How could they watch Alaric flirt with her, and even root for them to get together, knowing what had just happened over the holidays? Plus, there had never even been a thing between her and Tom in the first place. His blunt rejection had made sure of that.

“Evie!” Someone called out from behind her. She quickened her footsteps, expecting it to be Alaric or Harriet, but she was surprised when someone grabbed her arm and it turned out to be Adrian.

“Adrian,” She said breathlessly, “what is it?”

He glanced around before sighing, tugging Evelyn further down the hallway. He linked his arm with hers as they walked, both lost in their own thoughts.

“Listen, I know you don’t really have to meet up with Nott,” He began, “and what you saw back there wasn’t cool. I’m really sorry. Hattie and I…we didn’t want to keep anything from you, but Alaric begged us. You understand that, right?” Adrian looked at her pleadingly, and Evelyn softened. He did look genuinely upset, guilt etched across his face. Just for a moment, it was enough to loosen the knot in her chest.

She hummed, unable to say anything - she didn’t want to snap at him. Adrian fell silent for a moment, as if weighing his next words carefully.

“I’m going to be honest with you…Alaric told us what happened over Christmas, he said it was a mistake, okay? Something he shouldn’t have done with Rosalind.” He stumbled over her name.

“A mistake?” Evelyn repeated sceptically, her voice brittle.

Adrian nodded. “He didn’t stop it, and by the time term rolled round…well, he’s in too deep now. I think he thought he could handle it at first, but…” He shook his head, frustrated at being forced into the role of messenger. “He didn’t mean for it to go as far as it did, and then it got too involved and he couldn’t just walk away. Not without making things worse.”

“Am I supposed to feel sorry for him?” Evelyn snapped. “He should have sorted his affairs out and then been upfront with me.”

“I agree,” Adrian said smoothly, “but Alaric is an idiot.”

The question burned on the tip of her tongue, but did she want to know the answer?

“Why…why did he do it?”

“He was jealous that you were spending Christmas with Riddle. If he got close to Rosalind, I guess he thought he could forget about it. I don’t know what he was thinking exactly.”

Evelyn remained silent, her face scrunched up in hurt. She blinked hard, refusing to let her emotions overwhelm her.

“I just feel stupid,” She confessed, rubbing a hand over her face, “all the flirting, all the teasing - ”

“That was genuine.” Adrian said firmly. He stopped walking and spun Evelyn round to face him, capturing her in a brief hug. He pulled back to look at her. “He’s just been tangled up in this thing with Rosalind at the same time, he didn’t tell you because he wanted to fix it. To sort it out.”

Evelyn sighed. “Does he fancy her?”

Adrian shrugged, both in frustration and sympathy. “I don’t think he doesn’t feel something for her…but I’m sure he regrets how out of hand it got.”

“Okay,” Evelyn relented, “I understand why you and Harriet didn’t mention anything to me - I’m still not pleased, but you were both in an awkward position.” She took a deep breath. “I really appreciate you coming to speak with me.”

“Of course, Evie. You’re one of my best friends. I don’t know if they’re still…seeing each other, if it’s official or if it’s just messy and complicated…but it won’t affect anything between you, me, and Harriet. I promise.”

Evelyn hugged him, her eyes damp. She was truly grateful for Adrian, and his firm reassurances of their continued friendship soothed her. She needed time to breathe, she needed to speak to Harriet, and most importantly of all she needed space from Alaric Blackwood.

Chapter Text

The chill of January still clung to the stone walls as Evelyn slipped into Professor Merrythought’s classroom. She kept her head down as she picked an empty seat next to a startled Gryffindor girl. Alaric was already seated across the room, his green eyes tracking her every movement.

She didn’t look at him, not once, instead choosing to busy herself with emptying her bag. It had been two days since she had spoken with Adrian, and she hadn’t exchanged any words with Alaric. She flitted between the twins, disappearing whenever Alaric arrived, especially if he had Rosalind in tow.

Evelyn had had a lengthy heart to heart with Harriet, who had felt so bad about how everything had unfolded Evelyn found herself comforting the poor Hufflepuff as she sobbed.

Alaric had tried to catch her alone - lingering in corridors, pausing to speak to her outside of lessons, even reaching out in the common room once - but she had kept her distance all the same. He was currently drumming his fingers against his desk, his eyes flitting over to her every so often in silent pleading, but she refused him even a glance.

Tom noticed.

From his seat, Tom Riddle’s sharp eyes flicked between them. He had kept a quiet watch on Evelyn from a distance, ensuring nothing slipped past his notice, but this rift between her and Alaric was new…and intriguing. A slow smirk curved his lips. It seemed he would need to do a little digging to uncover what had caused the distance.

Professor Merrythought burst into the room, her robes flaring behind her impressively.

“Wands out!” She barked, her voice brisk and commanding. “Today we’re going to sharpen our defensive reflexes. Partner duelling - no hexes below the belt, and for Merlin’s sake, control your power! You’re not here to maim one another, no matter how tempting that may be.”

The class chuckled, though Evelyn barely managed a smile. She didn’t trust herself with her wand in her current emotional state. Merrythought’s eyes swept the room until they landed on her.

“Miss Bennett and…Mr Riddle. A rematch is in order! I remember your first duel, it was lively.”

Oh Merlin help me. Evelyn despaired, fighting the urge to bury her head in her hands. She stood up, eyes trained forward as she walked towards the front of the classroom. She could feel Tom’s electric presence following behind.

“It would be my pleasure, Professor.” Tom twirled his wand gracefully, his eyes boring into Evelyn. Her hands started to get clammy, but she moved into position and faced him.

“Bow.” Merrythought instructed.

They did.

“Begin!”

“Expelliarmus!” Evelyn called, the red bolt shot across the room as Tom lazily deflected it.

“Locomotor Mortis.” He flicked his wrist, the jinx bouncing off of Evelyn’s shield harmlessly. She glared at him, smugness radiating off of him in waves as he observed her coolly. Her thoughts danced over to Alaric and Rosalind, and then on Tom’s treatment of her, and she felt herself snap.

“Ignis Minora!” She slashed her wand downwards, and a small arc of fire whipped out her wand, hurtling towards Tom as if she were wielding a lasso. His eyebrows raised, reluctantly impressed as the class chattered excitedly amongst themselves.

He deflected it effortlessly, using non-verbal magic which elicited a stronger reaction from the students. He made the fire dance around the room mockingly before dispersing it.

He grinned, sharp and dangerous. “Oscillare.” Evelyn was too slow to block or side step and the spell hit her, knocking her back a few steps. As she stumbled, Tom cast another spell, and a crackle of lightning raced towards her.

“Protego!” Evelyn shouted, and before she had time to recover her breath she threw another curse at Tom. “Ferire!”

Tom deftly side-stepped, although the spell skimmed the edge of his arm. He grunted in pain, the striking curse making him feel like he had been hit hard by a club.

“Not bad.” He panted, eyes alight.

Evelyn was fighting harder than she had the first time, frustration pouring into every spell. Tom, Alaric, Rosalind - every word, every glance, every kiss - they fuelled her anger, which made her magic sharper, hotter, less controlled.

Tom saw it. He fed on it.

“You're angry.” He taunted, deflecting another light hex.

“I’m not.” She bit back, ducking out the way of a particularly vicious blasting curse. A table shattered under the impact somewhere behind her.

The duel was escalating beyond Merrythought’s intention, but the professor watched with hawk-like interest, her wand at the ready in case intervention was needed.

Evelyn’s breath was coming quicker now, her lack of stamina letting her down. At the end of the day, she was no match for Tom.

“Lacerna!” Shards of razor-sharp ice flew out of her wand, and Tom used a powerful shielding charm to deflect them.

He grinned dangerously. “Rupturo!” The splitting hex would have caught Evelyn perfectly in the face if she hadn’t shielded at the last minute, her eyes wide in surprise as she staggered under the spell's strength.

Tom cast silently, a spell that Evelyn didn’t recognise. It shattered her shield, the Protego disappearing as if it were a balloon popped by a needle.

“Torvo.” He whispered, the golden curse flying towards Evelyn. Merrythought opened her mouth, wand raised ready to step in, but Evelyn cast first.

“Reverto!” Evelyn had never cast that particular spell before, but she was feeling reckless. She performed the spell with a flourish, expecting Tom’s curse to rocket its way back to him like a boomerang, but she had miscast - the golden streak wobbled as if it considered turning around, before it hit Evelyn square in the chest.

The impact sent her flying back into the stone wall with a sickening crack, the worst of it deflected by Merrythought’s quickly timed cushioning charm.

Evelyn crumpled to the floor, her head pounding as her vision swam. Her wand clattered from her grip and rolled away, and the class descended into chaos.

Evelyn could hear shouting and the dull thud of what sounded like a fist making contact with someone’s face, followed by a grunt of pain as spells started flying.

“ENOUGH!” Merrythought boomed. She brandished her wand, restraining Alaric against one side of the room as Evelyn sat up. She clutched at her head, taking in the scene quickly.

Tom was smirking darkly, his lip split and blood trickled down his chin. Alaric was red in the face, held back by a magical restraint.

“Are you okay?” The Gryffindor girl Evelyn had sat next to earlier crouched by her in concern.

“That is quite enough! Blackwood, ten points from Slytherin for brawling in the classroom. Mr Riddle - “ She turned to face him, nostrils flaring in anger, “twenty points from Slytherin for use of excessive force!” She strode over to Evelyn and ran a diagnostic charm over her, shoulders loosening as she observed her clinically.

“Nothing broken, but she’ll need to be checked. Riddle, take her to the hospital wing. Now. And get yourself checked over whilst you’re there.”

“I can - “ Alaric stumbled free as Merrythought released his magical hold, “I’ll take her, Professor - ”

“No. Mr Riddle is quite capable. Sit down, Blackwood.” The command struck like a lash. Alaric froze, fury and disbelief written across his face, but eventually  he obeyed. Evelyn, dazed and aching, glanced at him. His eyes met hers, full of longing, but she was distracted by Tom offering her his hand.

“Come on.” He said, almost gently. Evelyn hesitated before accepting his hand, letting him pull her fluidly to her feet. He offered her his arm and she allowed him to guide her from the classroom, the whispers of their classmates following them out.

Evelyn winced as she walked, her head aching fiercely. She dimly realised that Tom’s hand was steadying her elbow, his grip firm as he guided her.

“You need to keep straight,” He muttered, his voice cool but clipped, “you’re weaving about like a first-year after their first firewhiskey.”

“I’m fine.” Evelyn snapped, though her voice lacked conviction. She tried to tug her arm free, but his hand tightened.

“No, you’re not,” He replied evenly, “if you were, Merrythought wouldn’t have sent you off like a wayward child. Stop being stubborn for once.” The words hurt worse than her head. She glared at the floor, infuriated by how calm he sounded.

She bit back the words, but they paid her no mind and came out anyway. “Oh, so now you want to talk to me? After weeks of silence, you suddenly care if I trip on the stairs?”

Tom’s jaw clenched. He didn’t rise to her bait immediately; instead he glanced down at her, his eyes sharp. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Is that all he has to say to that? Evelyn thought incredulously. She kept silent, though her eyes lingered on his split lip and nicked cheek. She refused to feel bad, though a small part of her panged in sympathy.

They turned a corner and Tom adjusted his pace to match hers, remaining silent for several long moments. Then, in a quieter voice than she expected, he spoke.

“Why aren’t you and Blackwood speaking?”

The question nearly stopped her in her tracks. Of all the things he could have said -

“That’s none of your business.” She jerked her arm slightly, but the movement sent her tottering. Tom didn’t let go.

“Perhaps not,” He replied smoothly, “but it's noticeable.”

“I don’t owe you an explanation. You’re not my friend.” Her voice cracked. “You made it perfectly clear before that you wanted nothing to do with me, remember?” The words landed with more bite than she’d intended, but she didn’t take them back.

Tom inhaled slowly through his nose, his expression pained. For once, he didn’t bite back.

“I remember. And I was…unkind.”

Evelyn blinked, and this time she really did stumble. Tom steadied once more, his grip relaxing into something more gentle.

“What?” She questioned in surprise.

“I said things I shouldn’t have,” Tom continued, his tone carefully measured, “I thought being direct would make things easier. It didn’t.”

Evelyn scoffed, despite the way butterflied erupted in her stomach. “Is this your idea of an apology?”

He grimaced, though his eyes shone with a faint sparkle of amusement. “I don’t apologise often.”

“That much is obvious.” Evelyn sighed. For a moment, they had almost slipped back into the familiarity of their old friendship and all its teasing banter, but the rift between them still burned. Suddenly, Evelyn’s chest ached - she missed their friendship.

Tom couldn’t help but glance at her again, his expression inscrutable. Inside however, something twisted in his chest. He had missed this. He had missed her. He hadn’t realised how much until Merrythought forced them into another duel and he saw the anger in her eyes, and realised that some of it was genuinely directed at him. It was a strange feeling, and one he didn’t enjoy thinking about.

“I hurt you.” He stated simply. “How it played out wasn’t quite my intention.”

Evelyn bit her lip, looking at him questioningly as they neared the hospital wing. They paused outside the doors, Tom barring the way with his arm.

“You should know…I never stopped noticing you. Even when it looked like I had.”

Evelyn swallowed, unsure on how to respond. There was sincerity buried under all his careful control, but it only served to confuse her more.

“Then maybe you should have acted like it.” She whispered. Without another word, she pushed the doors open and stepped inside, Tom pausing for a moment before he followed her in. He wondered, for the first time, if he wanted her friendship back.

Madam Spleen fussed over Evelyn for longer than she would have liked, clucking her tongue as she inspected her. A few murmured spells and a draught later, Evelyn’s head felt clearer and the pain was gone. Still, Madam Spleen seemed reluctant to let her go.

Tom, however, hadn’t lingered. The healer had taken one look at him, flourished her wand, and then dismissed him with a terse, “I can handle Miss Bennett from here, Mr Riddle. Off with you.”

He hadn’t argued. He’d sent her one last unreadable look before sweeping from the room without another word.

“Be sure to return if you suffer any headaches throughout the night.” The healer warned.

“Of course. Thank you, Madam Spleen.” Evelyn smiled gratefully and hopped down from the bed, eager to return to the common room and rest, when she stopped, surprised to see her friends waiting for her.

Alaric, Harriet, and Adrian were huddled together against the wall. All three of them shot up when they saw her. Harriet reached her first, folding her into a worried hug.

“Merlin’s beard, Evie - are you alright? We heard all about it from Alaric!”

“I’m fine,” Evelyn assured her, smiling weakly, “It looked worse than it feels.”

Adrian stepped forward, his brows drawn together. “Fine? You were hit hard enough to get sent to the hospital wing. And Riddle of all people then had to drag you here.” He fished around in his pocket and offered her a chocolate frog, which she accepted with a huffed laugh and shake of her head. He smiled lopsidedly at her, grateful she was OK.

Alaric hadn’t said anything yet. He stood a pace back, arms crossed, his face a mixture of irritation and concern. Evelyn shifted uneasily under his stare. Suddenly, she felt the need to speak.

“He apologised.” She said softly.

Three pairs of eyes blinked back at her.

“What?” Harriet asked, frowning.

“Tom,” Evelyn clarified, her voice finding strength, “he said he was sorry for what he said after Christmas. For hurting me.” Silence fell. Harriet’s face softened with sympathy, whilst Adrian looked incredulous, as if after everything that had happened, Tom Riddle apologising was absurd.

Alaric let out a sharp, humourless laugh, scowling. “Oh, brilliant. So he ignores you for over two weeks, slams you against a wall, and now a half-arsed apology makes it all better? Don’t tell me you’re best friends again?”

Evelyn’s cheeks burned as she rounded on him. “That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what it sounded like,” Alaric snapped, stepping closer, “you can’t be seriously taken in by that. It’s Riddle. He doesn’t apologise unless he wants something.”

“Well, you don’t know that. Maybe he genuinely means it.” Evelyn shot back, anger bubbling up before she could swallow it down.

“You actually believe that?” Alaric’s voice had increased in volume until he was nearly shouting, his hair frazzled from how many times he had run his fingers through it. “After everything he’s done?” He accused.

“And what would you have me do? Hate him forever? Pretend he doesn’t exist? He was - and is - important to me, whether you like it or not.”

“Important,” Alaric repeated, spitting the word like it was poison, “I thought you were smarter than this. Do you have any idea what he’s capable of?”

Evelyn bristled, letting out her own low laugh of derision. “Oh, and you’re one to lecture me on what people are capable of?

That landed. Harriet and Adrian both glanced nervously between the two as Evelyn geared up, ready to continue. The dam had finally burst.

“You stand there, Blackwood, pretending to be my friend, flirting with me, acting like - like I matter to you. And then just when I think we - ” She hesitated, swallowing for a second before she continued, her eyes burning like fire. “And then Rosalind shows up and I’m supposed to pretend to remain oblivious, as if something obviously didn’t happen?”

“Evie - ” Harriet tried to interrupt, but Evelyn ignored her.

“Do you know how humiliating that was, sitting there whilst you all danced around the topic around me? At least Tom had the decency to admit that he hurt me. You can’t even look me in the eye and tell me the truth.”

Alaric’s mouth opened, then shut again, his face burning red. His expression was torn, but for once he had nothing to say. Adrian cleared his throat loudly, stepping between them before either could go further.

“Alright, enough. Hogwarts doesn’t need another duel right now.” He cast Alaric a warning look before turning to Evelyn. “You’re exhausted, Harriet will walk you back to your dorm.”

Chest heaving, Evelyn glared at Alaric one more time before deflating and nodding. Alaric stormed off as Harriet accompanied Evelyn back to the Slytherin common room, and Adrian went after his friend.

The next morning dawned bright and cold, the kind of chilly January air that made the front on the windows look like etched glass. Evelyn had risen early, partly because she hadn’t slept well, and partly because she needed time to think. Memories of the duel and Tom’s quiet apology had replayed too many times in her mind.

She needed air.

Deciding to skip breakfast, Evelyn wrapped herself securely in her cloak and headed towards the gardens just behind the greenhouses. Her boots clicked against the cobblestones, the cold biting at her cheeks. It was easier to think when she was alone.

She wandered through the cloisters, admiring the winter beauty of the gardens. She felt oddly alone, and wondered how everything had gone so wrong with both Tom and Alaric so quickly.

“Hey Evie.” She turned. Alaric stood at the far end of the walkway, shoulders tense, eyes unreadable. He looked as though he hadn’t slept either. For once, there was no smile tugging at his mouth or jokes tumbling out of his mouth, instead he had dark circles under his eyes, and an expression that looked dangerously close to desperation.

Her instinct was to leave; the last time she had seen him they had argued, and he had stormed off. She’d felt wretched afterwards, and nothing Harriet did could cheer up. Plus, Evelyn didn’t know what else there was to say. She’d spent all her words the previous night.

She sighed tiredly as he approached, offering her a pastry as a peace offering.

“I noticed you didn’t come to breakfast. I just want to talk. Please.” He implored, his voice low.

Evelyn bit her lip. “What else is there to say?” She asked, not unkindly.

“Please Evie, not here, just - “ Alaric gestured toward the garden which was currently empty, the cold keeping students at bay. Evelyn did not want to talk to Alaric, but the sensible part of her reminded her that she couldn’t avoid him forever. It would be better to resolve things quickly rather than let them fester, so she nodded her head minutely and followed after him.

They settled down on a bench, with Alaric crossing his legs as he turned to fully face her. Evelyn faced him as well, one leg folded beneath her as he gently grasped her hand in his.

“I’ve been a coward,” He began, his voice strengthening with every word, “but you deserve the truth.”

“Okay…” Evelyn waited patiently for Alaric to continue, watching as he drew circles onto her hand absent-mindedly.

He let out a breath and began to talk. “I saw Rosalind over the holidays. It wasn’t meant to mean anything. I was angry - jealous - I couldn’t stand the thought of you spending Christmas with Tom. I wanted to hurt less, she was there…and I let it happen.”

Evelyn frowned as she considered his words, appreciating that he allowed her a moment to think. One part of her didn’t like the fact that Alaric had clearly used the Ravenclaw, but another, more selfish part of her was glad that it hadn’t meant anything.

“So, you used her as a distraction.” Evelyn finally settled on, fingers twitching in his hand.

Alaric cringed but continued to speak, as if words might fail him if he didn’t get them out quick enough.

“At first, yes. But then she wanted more, and I didn’t push her away. I wasn’t lying when I said I wasn’t in the right headspace for anyone, Evie. That even includes her. I did a lot of thinking…about you.” His eyes softened, and he shuffled closer to Evelyn, now holding both her hands in his.

“About me.” Evelyn repeated sceptically, one eyebrow raised.

“Yes,” Alaric said passionately, “I was such an idiot Evie! By the time I realised who I really wanted, and how stupid I was being, it was too late. It got tangled. Now she thinks - well.” He stopped short, eyes dropping down to his lap.

“Alaric, I have no right to judge what you got up to during the Christmas break. We aren’t together, and even I shared a moment with Tom…but it’s what happened afterwards. When you got back to Hogwarts.” She paused, her throat constricting. “You made me think - I was starting to feel…you led me on.”

He flinched. “I know. I didn’t mean to, I just can’t help myself when I’m around you. Evelyn, everything with you was real. Is real. I was just so bloody jealous, I made the worst decision I could have and now I’m paying the price for it. I don’t want us to not talk, I don’t want us to be arguing. I want you.”

Evelyn shook her head, withdrawing her hands. “You sound ridiculous. ‘I was jealous, so I crawled back to Rosalind’.”

“Crawled back?” Alaric questioned.

“I know you and her had a thing last term. Tom told me.”

“Of course Tom told you. He had no right.” Alaric’s cheeks coloured in anger.

“It doesn’t matter.” Evelyn snapped. She made to stand up, suddenly sick of the conversation, but Alaric pulled her back down, his grip firm.

“I messed up, okay?” His voice cracked, and for once he didn’t try to hide it. “I realise it every time I look at you and know that I’ve ruined whatever chance we had at something, before it even really began. I should have told you the truth, I shouldn’t have ignored your letters, I shouldn’t have been so stupid!” His chest was heaving as he spoke, and Evelyn couldn’t deny the sincerity in his voice.

Evelyn sighed, standing up to face away from him. She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering.

“The way you handled all this could have been better,” She said softly, “you hurt me.”

He stood up and moved closer slowly, like she might shatter if he stepped too fast. Very carefully, he stepped behind her and enclosed her in his arms, burying his face in her hair. “I know. But you’re not walking away.” She could hear the flicker of hope in his voice.

Her eyes closed briefly. “No, I’m not walking away.” She turned to face him, allowing herself to be held. The silence stretched, fragile and tense, but less suffocating than before.

When she finally spoke again, her voice was steadier.

“Look, we’re friends first and foremost, let’s just be honest with each other. It doesn’t have to be complicated.” Evelyn said kindly.

“No more secrets.” He promised, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Alaric…are you still seeing her?” She asked, careful to keep her voice neutral. Alaric grimaced, his eyes darting down quickly.

I’ll take that as a yes then. Evelyn could feel the bile rising in her throat.

Alaric continued to hesitate, conflict clear in his expression. “We talk,” He said carefully, “we see each other sometimes. She wants to see if this could become more.”

Evelyn’s stomach sank, but she forced herself to push past the hurt. “Okay, so you might start dating her.”

“I don’t know. It’s not really want I want…I never planned for this.”

Evelyn chuckled drily. “Well, neither did I…but you aren’t against the idea of dating Rosalind?”

Alaric chewed his lip, frowning. He eventually shrugged. “I guess I’m not entirely against it. But she’s not who I want.” He brushed his thumb over her cheek.

She met his gaze with a faint, sad smile. “Honestly? I’d be no good for you right now anyway. Not with Tom and all his chaos…I think you deserve a chance to see where this goes, without me complicating things.”

Her mind churned as she said this. She imagined herself trying to be happy with him whilst constantly aware of Tom’s presence, feeling torn and guilty, unable to give Alaric her whole heart. She pictured arguments, misunderstandings, and moments of jealousy that would chip away at them both.

Alaric’s face softened, but the sadness in his eyes deepened. “Evelyn, I can handle Riddle, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

She reached up, cupping his face in her hands, her eyes searching his. “It wouldn’t be fair to either of us. We both need to sort out our lives first. I couldn’t be with you in good conscience while Tom still has a hold on my heart. And Rosalind has a hold on yours, even if it's small.”

Alaric winced but nodded. He couldn’t argue with her on those points, no matter how much it pained him.

“Maybe some day we’ll find our way back to each other.” He joked, though the sadness in his voice did little to lift her mood. “I don’t want to lose you.” He mumbled.

“You won’t.” She promised firmly. “But you deserve to be happy. And maybe that means with her.”

Why are you saying this, Evelyn! She clenched her jaw, but stayed resolute in her decision.

“I don’t know what the future holds,” Alaric finally admitted, “but I promise you’ll be the first to know if we decide to go official. I swear.”

Evelyn’s lips quirked in a bittersweet smile. “You’ll have to. I’m holding you to that.”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. He then dipped his head down and very gently brushed his lips against hers before stepping back, his cheeks pink.

“I’m sorry, and thank you for being you.” He said, squeezing her. Evelyn was red as well, but she let out her first genuine smile, glad that she had her friend back.

Evelyn had resumed sitting with Alaric during lessons for the rest of the day. She was currently sitting in History of Magic, trying not to doze off as Alaric doodled next to her. She chanced a glance at him, catching his eye as he winked at her. She smiled and turned away, her heart fluttering.

I did the right thing. Alaric deserves to be happy, and I can’t give that to him, not right now. I need to get Tom out of my head and my heart. She thought morosely. She did what she believed was right, but the price of that selflessness weighed heavily on her.

And then another question rose - did she even want to be friends with Tom again? The answer was immediate, and she hated how certain it was. Of course she did. He was lodged too deeply in her thoughts to be erased so easily. She only hoped that his coldness, the way he swung from tenderness to distance without warning, would be enough to steady her heart; enough to make friendship possible, but nothing more.

Saturday loomed quickly, with the impending Gryffindor vs Slytherin qualifying match being the only thing anyone could talk about. Evelyn was wrapped up warm, her knitted scarf from her aunt secured firmly around her neck. She was hurrying down to the pitch, eager not to miss Adrian and Harriet who said they’d meet her so they could all sit together. Gathering her robes closer as she stepped outside, she bumped into someone.

“Watch where you’re going.” A familiar, smooth voice said.

Evelyn froze. Tom Riddle. She forced herself to meet his eyes, smiling awkwardly.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you there.” She said softly.

The usual cold edge in his expression softened just enough to make her pause. “Clearly.” He replied, though the remark lacked its usual sting.

There was a moment of silence. Evelyn fiddled with the hem of her robes, unsure whether to stay or retreat. Finally, she decided to speak.

“Will you be watching the match?” She asked cautiously, trying to sound casual.

Tom hesitated. He studied, calculating for a heartbeat. Evelyn wondered if he would ignore her altogether.

“I wasn’t planning to.” He said finally, in that same neutral tone. Evelyn blinked, feeling a faint flicker of disappointment.

“Oh, that’s a shame,” She said softly, a hopeful edge creeping into her voice, “you should. It’s a big game…and it’s fun to see the Slytherin team in action. Plus, it would be nice to see you there.” She smiled lightly, ignoring how awkward the moment felt. Maybe things could eventually become…normal between them.

Tom’s eyes softened a fraction, and he nodded hesitantly. “I’ll think about it.”

Evelyn gave a small nod in return, unsure if he really meant it.

“Okay, I’ll see you later then.” She murmured, side-stepping him gracefully. She hurried on, forcing herself not to glance behind her back.

As she approached the stands, she spotted the twins standing off to the side, waving brightly at her. She grinned and joined them, and together they found their seats. Evelyn felt cautiously optimistic that perhaps her and Tom could find their way back to something that resembled friendship, and the thought made her feel light.

The sun was high and sharp over the Quidditch pitch, glinting off the polished hoops and casting the stands in a bright, excited light. The entire school seemed to have turned out for this match; Gryffindor vs Slytherin in a qualifying game promised fireworks. The chatter, cheers, and general buzz of noise filled the air with a crackling energy that had Evelyn sitting on the edge of her seat.

The tension was palpable up in the air. The Gryffindor team were as loud and chaotic as always, and they made a strong opening, but Slytherin’s strategy was flawless. Where Gryffindor played with skill and passion, Slytherin played like a well-oiled machine, passing the Quaffle with precision and dodging Bludgers with ease.

Evelyn felt a spark of pride as she cheered for Alaric; he was brilliant and fearless in the air, commanding the pitch like he owned it. Above the roar of the crowd as Slytherin scored, Evelyn spotted a familiar face.

Tom Riddle stood in the middle of the sea of students, pale and composed, flanked by all of his friends. As if feeling her stare, he turned and made eye contact with her, and she waved hesitantly before turning back to the game.

He came. She thought, and wondered what it meant.

Minutes bled into one another as the match progressed, the snitch darting like a streak of gold light between all the players. Slytherin’s cohesion was undeniable, and the cheers from their stands grew louder with each goal.

Finally, it happened. Amos Bigsby, the Slytherin seeker, caught the snitch in an impressive manoeuvre, the whistle blew and the entire stadium erupted into shouts and applause. Evelyn felt herself being swept up in the frenzy, the atmosphere electric, yet amidst the hugs and whoops she found that she could only focus on Alaric.

On the pitch, the Slytherin players had just landed, laughing and celebrating amongst themselves. She smiled, she couldn’t wait to see Alaric and congratulate him -

Rosalind was running across the grass with a reckless grin, her hair flying behind her like a comet tail. Evelyn watched as she vaulted into Alaric’s arms without hesitation, wrapping her legs around him in abandon. He caught her easily and spun her around, the crowd erupting even louder at the display. She could feel the cheers and whistles piercing her chest from all directions as they kissed passionately right in front of the whole school.

Okay, time to get out of here. Don’t react, don’t make a scene, just leave.

Evelyn glanced at the twins, but they were just as caught up in the moment as everyone else was. She gently pushed her way out of the stands, her chest twisting painfully. That had been public declaration if there ever was one; traditionally, only the players’ significant others would go onto the pitch if they won a major game.

He promised he’d tell me first. Evelyn thought bitterly. She couldn’t understand how after they had finally made peace with each other, with tentative promises and fragile moments, that it could feel like her world had shattered in an instant.

You told him it was OK…he also said he’d tell you first. She berated herself for feeling how she did, jealousy rearing its ugly head in her chest. She just hoped she’d be able to get a grip before she next saw Alaric.

Chapter Text

The Forbidden Forest

Evelyn walked slowly, allowing herself to be lost in the smattering of students who had also left the match early. Her mind was strangely blank, unable to think of anything else except the agonising display she had just witnessed.

Rosalind had made sure no one would forget the match anytime soon.

She paused off by the side, not sure where or what she wanted to do next. She supposed she’d have to wait for her friends, and then have to navigate their sympathetic looks and careful words as they tried to console her.

She didn’t want to see them.

“Quite the spectacle, wasn’t it?”

Evelyn glanced up, startled, to see Tom standing beside her, hands tucked lazily in his pockets. He looked perfectly unruffled, as if the chaos and roar of the stands had barely touched him. His dark eyes were fixed on her, sharp with amusements.

“Hi, Tom.” She wasn’t surprised to see him by her side, not really.

“Evelyn.” He inclined his head, polite to the point of mockery.

“Was there something you wanted?” She asked, equally polite.

Tom looked at her knowingly as he stepped closer. “Only to remark upon the performance we’ve just witnessed. Alongside the Slytherin Victory.” He added, his mouth twisting in a subtle smirk.

Evelyn’s mouth twitched in response.

“Quite bold of her.” Tom continued, assessing her reaction.

Shifting uncomfortably, she looked away for a second. “It wasn’t - ” She stopped, realising too late that she was about to defend herself against something that wasn’t even aimed at her.

Tom’s smile sharpened. “Ah. You weren’t expecting it.”

Her mouth went dry. He’d said it matter-of-factly, like it was nothing more than an observation about the weather, but the accuracy made her stumble.

“I…no, I wasn’t.” She admitted. For a moment, the silence stretched between them. More and more students started to stream out, and Evelyn anxiously glanced behind her, wanting to avoid her friends.

“It was written all over your face.”

Evelyn huffed and turned her attention back to him, wondering with thinly veiled irritation what it was exactly that he wanted. “I didn’t realise you were watching me instead of the game.”

“Oh, I was watching both,” His tone was light, but there was something underneath it that made her stomach flutter, “The game was predictable. Your reaction was not.”

Evelyn looked away, embarrassed by how easily he could read her. “Well, thank you for pointing it out.”

He chuckled softly, the sound genuine. She glanced up at him in surprise, her unease forgotten for a moment. “I thought you’d prefer the honesty.”

She hadn’t noticed her feet were moving until she realised Tom was walking beside her. Somehow, without asking, he had fallen into step with her as she followed the sloping path back toward the castle.

The chatter of students faded behind them the closer they got, choosing to walk the scenic route to avoid bumping into anyone prematurely. Evelyn was painfully aware of the quiet between them, but found she didn’t have the energy to speak.

Tom broke it first.

“You shouldn’t look so stricken,” He said mildly, “no one died. Not today, at least.”

She snorted, unable to hide her incredulous laugh as she looked at him.

“Is that your idea of comfort?”

“It’s true, isn’t it?” He didn’t look at her as he said it, his eyes fixed ahead. “A kiss isn’t the end of the world.”

The irony. She thought, side eyeing him in disbelief.

“Easy for you to say.” She replied, her voice small.

Tom sighed, the sound foreign coming from him. “Not everything is easy for me to say. Some things are…harder.”

Evelyn stopped walking and looked at him properly. His expression hadn’t shifted, but his words hung heavy in the air, and she wondered what he wasn’t saying.

“Like what?” She questioned.

“Like telling you…” He hesitated, the slightest break in his composure. “…that I’ve missed this.”

“This?”

“Our conversations,” He clarified quietly, “your company. Even your incessant talking. I thought perhaps I wouldn’t.”

Oh Merlin. What should I say? Do I really want to invite Tom Riddle back into my life?

Evelyn knew there was no point in playing coy or trying to deny how she felt. She sighed, glancing up at him through her lashes.

“I’ve missed it too.” She admitted, barely above a whisper. Tom’s gaze jumped towards her in surprise, as if he hadn’t been expecting her to feel the same way. He searched her face, weighing the truth of her words. Whatever he saw seemed to satisfy him, because he loosened up.

They walked for a few more minutes, the silence much more comfortable between them.

“Do you think…we could try again? Being friends?” Evelyn asked shyly, twisting the hem of her robe. “It doesn’t have to be complicated, I don’t want to keep circling around each other like this.” She spoke quickly, her cheeks heating up under his scrutiny.

For a long moment he didn’t say anything, then he nodded. “Very well. Friends.”

Relief rushed through Evelyn, and she nearly stumbled from the feeling. She hadn’t realised how much Tom’s absence had been weighing on her. She laughed, soft and nervous, and tried to further lighten the air between them.

“Good. And don’t worry - there won’t be any more kisses.” She smiled teasingly at him.

Tom’s brow arched, the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “No more?”

She giggled. “Nope. You’re safe from that particular brand of chaos.”

His eyes lingered on her a fraction too long, then he asked, almost idly; “Is that because of Blackwood?”

Evelyn blushed, shooting him a glare. “No. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” Tom’s smile was faint, enigmatic. He didn’t press further, but his eyes looked far too knowing.

They paused outside the doorway that led into the castle, Evelyn’s lips pursed in displeasure as she delayed opening the doors.

“You’re not moving.” Tom observed dryly.

“I don’t want to go back to the common room.” She murmured, sighing irritably.

Tom’s expression was cool, though there was a faint twist to his lips. “You’re sulking.”

Her eyes narrowed, heat blooming her cheeks. “I’m not sulking. I just don’t feel like celebrating.”

“Because of Alaric.” He guessed at once, a faint smirk on his face.

“Not everything is about him,” She snapped, before glancing at Tom apologetically, “I don’t want to see either of them.”

They moved to the side as a group of students pushed past them into the castle.

“Rosalind,” Tom said her name as though it was a distasteful spell, “she’d dare sneak in?”

“Yes.” Evelyn muttered.

Tom cocked his head as he spoke. “Then don’t bother.”

“Sorry?” Evelyn asked.

“Don’t go back. Why endure the noise and spectacle if you’d rather not? You owe them nothing.”

The simplicity of it startled her. “I suppose I don’t.”

“You suppose correctly.” He smiled fleetingly. “Besides, you’d be dreadful company for revelry tonight. I can see it in your face - you’d sit in the corner, drink pumpkin juice, and scowl. No one wants that.”

Evelyn tried to glare at him, but it turned into a reluctant laugh. “You’re insufferable.”

“So I’ve been told.” He said smoothly. “If not the common room, then where?”

Evelyn smiled at him softly. “Where else but for a walk?”

They continued to walk around the perimeter of the castle, Tom’s presence a welcome distraction from her churning thoughts. They eventually peeled away on their familiar path towards the Black Lake, and it felt like they had never stopped talking at all.

Evelyn walked with a newfound lightness in her step, her robes brushing against the grass as a cool breeze ruffled her hair. She hadn’t realised how badly she’d needed this time to decompress until now. Tom, as always, was perfectly composed, his stride measured as he simply kept her company.

They wandered further past the Black Lake until they were in the fields, just on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. She slowed, her eyes drawn to trees and what lay beyond. She’s always seen the forest from a distance, and heard the whispered stories from other students. The professors constantly warned them, and the school was notorious for giving harsh detentions to any who dared stray too close…but standing at the edge, the forest looked alive. Evelyn would go so far as to say inviting.

“What a fuss everyone makes.” She said, mostly to herself.

Tom’s gaze followed hers. “And for good reason. What lives in there isn’t the kind of thing you’d want to meet unprepared.”

A thrill ran through her, rebellious and bright and burning. “Have you ever been in there?”

Tom glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “I don’t make a habit of wandering into danger for the sake of curiosity.”

“I do.” Evelyn said, surprising herself with the boldness of it. She stepped forward, her feet brushing into the shadow cast by the first row of trees. The air seemed cooler here, richer somehow, as if the forest breathed differently than the rest of the grounds.

“Evelyn.” Tom’s voice was calm, but it carried a faint warning underneath. “Don’t.”

She turned back, regarding him with a spark of mischief and challenge in her eyes.

“If I go in, you’ll have to follow me. Otherwise, what kind of friend would you be?”

“You’d manipulate me with friendship now?” He asked teasingly.

“Only a little.” She said, grinning. Before he could stop her, she glanced around before slipping into the forest, feeling a thrill of pleasure as she did so.

The forest seemed to swallow her instantly, the very air became hushed as she very slowly walked deeper in. The air was sweet, her noise filling with the smell of damp earth and something almost floral. She half expected Tom not to follow her, but within seconds his footsteps joined hers.

“You’re reckless.” He murmured from just behind her.

“And you’re predictable.” She teased, though her eyes were so bright that Tom knew he wouldn’t have been able to say no regardless. “I knew you wouldn’t let me go in alone.” She continued.

He hummed but remained silent, making sure to keep close to her. Evelyn was careful to stay at the border, not wanting to go too far in. The canopy above them slowly thickened, dappled light spilling through in patches across the forest floor. She felt exhilarated, her senses sharpened by the knowledge that they weren’t supposed to be in there.

And then, quite suddenly, the trees opened.

Evelyn gasped; before them lay a small glade, hidden away within the folds of the forest. The sun shone brightly here, unhindered by trees. Flowers dotted the landscape, a very narrow stream gently trickling past them.

“It’s beautiful.” Evelyn breathed,

“So it would seem.” Tom stepped beside her, his gaze sweeping the area in suspicion.

Evelyn turned to him in surprise. “That’s all you can say? It’s like something out of a dream.”

He didn’t answer right away, his eyes fixed on the glade as though he were reading it like a book.

“Beauty often hides danger. Don’t let it fool you.”

Like you, then. Evelyn thought, studying him unashamedly. She approached the stream, dipping her fingers in, delighted in how the tiny ripples reflected the sunlight. Tom watched her in silence, his eyes tracking her every movement. She sat down, looking at him expectantly, and he sighed in a mixture of exasperation and fondness.

He joined her slowly, his presence a steady anchor in the magical hush of the glade. For a moment neither of them spoke, the companionable silence comforting. Evelyn watched him, amazed at how peaceful he looked; the sunlight and the soft greens of the glade softened all his angles and made him look radiant.

“How’s your face?” She asked softly, playing with a blade of grass. She rolled over onto her stomach, peeking at him shyly through her hair.

His head turned and he regarded her in mild confusion. “My face?”

“After…you know, Alaric punched you.” She blushed and said it almost apologetically.

A faint smile tugged at his lips. “Ah, that.” He touched his jaw slowly, though there was no bruising whatsoever. “It healed. Madam Spleen is very efficient. You sound disappointed.”

“I’m not, just making sure you’re okay.” Evelyn replied lightly. She returned to fiddling with the grass.

Tom studied her for a moment then leaned back slightly, bracing one hand on the grass.

“Tell me, Evelyn…do you have feelings for him?” The question dropped like a stone into the quiet glade. Evelyn’s head snapped up, but Tom’s gaze was steady and unflinching. He hadn’t asked with teasing or malice, only with cool, calm interest.

“I don’t know,” She said honestly, “after Christmas, I think I was starting to. He’s kind, and - ” She broke off, struggling to put into words something that felt too overwhelming. “But then Rosalind happened, and it got complicated.”

“There’s that word again, complicated.”

“Yes,” Evelyn sighed ruefully, “maybe it was easier when I didn’t feel anything at all…” She trailed off, her eyes dark as she glanced at him

Maybe it was easier when I only have feelings for you.

The words were left hanging unspoken between them. Tom glanced away, “I see.” He said softly.

Evelyn huffed, pulling at the grass as she spoke. “I probably shouldn’t have told you that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll use it against me.” She laughed, half teasing and half serious.

His lips curved into a smile. “If I intended to, you’d already know.”

That startled a laugh out of her, and she sighed, letting her head fall onto her arms.

“I must admit, I’m happy that we’re friends again.”

Something flickered in his eyes, but it vanished so quickly she couldn’t identify what it was.

“So am I.” Evelyn smiled, allowing the silence to settle. The glade held them in suspended warmth, and she felt incredibly at peace. Tom’s eyes would wander between the trees and the grass, however it would inevitably land back on her face. Her cheeks were dusted red as she smiled at him, and for once he smiled back openly, as small as it was.

The glade’s quiet was broken by a sound so piercing, so sharp, that Evelyn had shot to her feet before she even registered what it was.

A scream. A woman’s scream.

It cut through the tranquil peace of the glade, raw and desperate, and then it faded, swallowed up by the thick of the forest. Evelyn’s heart lurched.

“Someone’s in trouble!” She exclaimed, already stepping deeper into the shadows.

“Wait.” Tom’s voice snapped out, sharp as a whip. He stood, his expression taut, eyes narrowed into the shadows. “Think, Evelyn. This is the Forbidden Forest. Sounds like that don’t just come out of nowhere.”

She turned back to him, her chest tight with worry. “What are you saying? That it isn’t real?”

“I’m saying it could be anything.” His tone was controlled, but there was an edge of urgency in it. “A trick. A lure. There are things in here that know how to bait the careless.”

Evelyn bit her lip, feeling useless in the moment. Her instincts screamed at her to move and do something, but Tom’s reasoning made her stop and think.

“Okay, what if it is someone?” She asked calmly, “What if it’s real and we do nothing?”

His jaw clenched. “And what if we walk into a trap?”

They stared at each other, tension strung tight between them. Finally, Evelyn drew a breath. “Then we compromise. We’ll just go a little further. If we see nothing, we turn back.”

Tom’s eyes darkened, but he inclined his head once. “A little further,” He echoed. He could tell she wasn’t going to back down.

Together, they moved into the trees. The air grew colder, thicker. The light of the glade faded behind them, and shadows pressed in like walls. Every sound set Evelyn on edge - the crunch of twigs beneath their shoes, the rustle of leaves overhead - everything seemed magnified in the sudden silence. Evelyn’s wand hand trembled, but she kept it raised. Doubt started to creep in as she glanced behind her, suddenly unsure from which way they came.

The scream came again. Closer.

Evelyn’s pulse quickened. “This way!” She whispered, but she maintained a careful pace, Tom’s words at the forefront of her mind.

“Evelyn - ” Tom’s warning cut off as something shifted in the darkness ahead.

A shape unfurled itself from between the trees, massive and wrong, all sloping edges and wobbling flesh. Evelyn couldn’t tell if it was some sort of animal, a wraith, or something worse. All she knew was that they needed to get away from it.

Its eyes gleamed faintly like coals in the dark, and its mouth (if it could be called that) opened and it let out the scream, the sound changing from human to something inhuman.

“Get back!” Tom barked. His wand whipped upwards, a string of spells flying from his lips. Jets of green and red light streaked from his wand, forcing the creature back, but it only seemed confused, before it hissed and tried to lunge at them again.

Evelyn backed up until she reached Tom’s side, brandishing her own wand. Her voice rang out, steady and clear.

“Expecto Patronum!” She wasn’t sure if the spell would have any effect against the creature, but she was running on pure instinct. Her Patronus leapt out the tip of her wand, a small, lithe box, and his darted forwards fearlessly. It circled the creature with snapping jaws of light. The creature recoiled, shrieking before it vanished into the dark.

Evelyn was panting from the sudden surge of adrenaline, her hands trembling. Tom stared at her. For once, his composure was less than perfect. His lips parted, his expression caught between impressed and astonishment.

“Impressive,” He said finally, his voice low, “very impressive.”

Evelyn turned to him, still catching her breath. “You didn’t think I could do it?”

“I didn’t think anyone our age could do it,” Tom corrected, his dark eyes gleaming. “And certainly not with such force. A corporeal Patronus…” He shook his head slowly, almost to himself. “Remarkable.”

Despite the fear still pounding through her veins, Evelyn felt a flicker of pride.

Tom’s gaze lingered on her, shockingly intense. Then his voice softened, though the edge never quite left it. “You are full of surprises, Evelyn.”

She met his eyes, feeling much steadier as she teased him. “You think you’d be used to this by now.”

“Come,” Tom said, “Let’s go before the forest thinks of another game to play.”

Evelyn disregarded the status quo and pressed close to his side, grateful when he allowed her. Perhaps Tom was more on edge than he let on. She kept glancing around her in distress - she didn’t trust the silence.

Just when she thought her heartrate had returned to normal, the sound came again, the distorted scream caught in the wind.

Tom stiffened beside her, his head whipping round toward the shadows.

“It’s back.”

The scream cut again, closer this time, and the ground seemed to tremble beneath their feet.

“We need to run.” Tom said with no hesitation. He seized her hand in his, grip iron-tight. “Now.”

He didn’t wait for her answer - he tugged her forward, practically pulling her off her feet as they plunged into the undergrowth. Evelyn’s breath caught, her heart hammering in her ribs. Branches clawed at her robes, brambles tore at her legs, the world was a blur of black trunks and shifting shadows as Tom dragged her along at a brutal pace.

Behind them, the scream twisted into a guttural snarl. The sound of crashing, something huge moving unnaturally fast, came pounding after them.

“Tom - !” Evelyn gasped, stumbling as roots tried to trip her up.

He yanked her upright before she could fall, never loosening his grip. “Keep up.” He snapped, though his voice was commanding and firm, and even a little desperate. His arm slipped around her waist briefly, dragging her forward before he let go to keep his wand arm free.

The forest shifted around them. Paths that had been clear suddenly ended in walls of tangled vines and broad trees. Evelyn felt sick once they reached another seemingly impossible dead end.

“It’s playing tricks on us.” She whispered, clutching at Tom’s sleeve.

“I know.” Tom’s tone was cold, focused. “Stay with me.”

She stumbled again as he pulled her sharply to the right, shoving past a thorned hedge that hadn’t been there a moment ago. The scream echoed once more, this time ahead of them. Evelyn’s chest seized.

“That’s impossible - ”

“It’s circling us.” Tom muttered, his eyes calculating.

He pushed her suddenly against the trunk of an ancient tree, shielding her with his body. His hand pressed firmly against her mouth, holding her still. “Quiet.”

The thing came closer. Evelyn could feel it before she could see it; its footsteps were slow and made the ground shake, she could hear it snuffling around as it searched for them. She gently peeled his hand from her mouth.

Her fingers itched toward her wand. “Should I…?”

“No.” His reply was quick, cutting her off. His face was inches from hers, eyes locked, voice low. “Your Patronus deters it. It doesn’t wound it. It will only buy us time, and it knows that now.”

Evelyn swallowed hard, trying to focus on his words instead of the way his breath warmed her cheek. She shivered, berating herself for getting them into this situation.

The shadow passed by, twisting between the trees. Evelyn bit her lip so hard she tasted blood, willing herself not to move, not to even breathe too loudly. Tom didn’t so much as flinch, his body taut, holding her still against the bark.

The thing paused. Turned.

Its shape flickered into something almost human - a tall, thin silhouette with too-long limbs, head cocked unnaturally to one side. A hiss cut the air. Evelyn’s stomach lurched, she thought she was going to throw up from the fear that curdled in her stomach.

Tom’s grip tightened on her wrist. Then, in one fluid movement, he raised his wand.

“Confringo!”

The curse exploded from his wand-tip, the bright orange curse and concussive force cracking through the silence. The blast struck the creature full in the chest, hurling it backward with a shriek that split Evelyn’s ears. Bark and splinters showered from the trees as the ground shuddered. She found herself impressed by the amount of power Tom put behind the spell.

“Go!” Tom snarled, seizing her again, pulling her with him as he sprinted deeper into the forest.

Evelyn stumbled but forced her legs to move, lungs burning as she tried to match his pace. His hand never left hers, dragging her just behind him, close enough that she could feel the brush of his cloak against her legs.

The forest didn’t relent. Paths bent impossibly, branches bent low to block their way, the shadows shifting as if the entire wood sought to corral them.

Another screech split the night, this one furious. The ground trembled as the creature gave chase again.

Tom’s voice was sharp, relentless. “Left. Keep low, watch your footing - ”

She clung to his hand, matching his every turn. Fear clawed at her chest, but beneath it was something else: the startling, unnerving certainty that Tom would not let go. Not here. Not now.

They ducked beneath a low arch of roots, pressed forward through another thicket, the creature's pursuit thundering just behind them. Evelyn’s legs burned, but she didn’t dare falter. A stitch seared in her side, and she almost found it impossible to move.

A jagged tree loomed ahead, its trunk hollow and split. Tom flung her toward it, following after her quickly. She scrambled in, barely managing to stand comfortably in the limited space. Tom pressed up against her, solid and unyielding. His breathing was harsh but controlled, his eyes narrowed as he listened to the forest.

The creature howled once more, then faded into the distance.

Only then did Tom glance at her, still so close she could see the beads of sweat along his brow. His voice was barely a whisper.

“We’re not out of this yet.” She nodded in response, trying hard to control her breathing.

The hollow was barely wide enough for one person. With two crammed inside, every breath felt amplified, every twitch magnified. The bark scraped Evelyn’s back, rough against her robes, while Tom’s body pressed flush against the front of hers. His cloak was tangled with her legs; his arm braced just above her shoulder, keeping them boxed in together.

Evelyn could feel every shift of his muscles as he listened for the creature outside. His breath was warm against her temple, shallow but steady, the heat of it making her pulse hammer even louder than the creature's screams.

Neither dared move at first. The forest outside was too quiet, save for the occasional groan of trees bending. Leaves rustled even though there was no wind to stir them. Somewhere far off, the creature let out a distorted screech which sounded like broken glass.

Evelyn pressed her lips together, then whispered, barely moving them. “Do you think it’s gone?”

Tom’s eyes cut to hers, dark and unblinking in the dim glow that seeped through cracks in the bark. His voice was quiet. “No. It’s hunting. Waiting for us to slip.”

A shiver crept down her spine. She became painfully aware of just how close they were, how firmly he held her against the wood. His hand was still wrapped around her wrist, though his grip had loosened slightly. Neither wanted the contact to end, as if it meant something irreversible would happen if they let go.

“We can’t stay in here forever.” She murmured.

“No.” He agreed. His eyes strained toward the gap in the hollow, sharp with calculation. “But rushing out would be suicide. We wait. Let it think we’ve vanished.”

Evelyn scrunched her face up, feeling the sting of terrified tears. She clung to the back of his cloak as if her life depended on it, though it hardly helped her feel comforted. One tiny, miniscule sob escaped against her will, causing Tom to look down at her in alarm. Without hesitation, his hand came to rest at the back of her and he pressed her into his chest, murmuring quiet words of nothing to try and soothe her.

Evelyn could feel him hesitate, but then gently, softly, he started to rub small circles into her back, just as she had done with his wrist during the Christmas holidays.

That had felt like a lifetime ago now.

Silence stretched again, taut as wire, as Evelyn tried to reign her terror in. She became acutely aware of the small things as she tried to distract herself: the way Tom’s hair brushed against his forehead, damp with sweat. The faint scent of him filling her senses. She noted the rise and fall of his chest against hers, every inhale and exhale in sync. She listened to his heart beating as her head rested against his chest. The circles he was rubbing into her came sharply into focus, and suddenly she couldn’t concentrate.

If she thought too long about it all, she was certain she’d unravel.

Evelyn tried to focus on anything else. On how cold her fingers were. On the ache in her legs from sprinting. On the fact that this could be the last place she ever existed alive.

Her throat tightened, words rushing out before she could stop them. “Tom,” She whispered, voice breaking faintly as she clung onto him tighter, “if something happens - ”

His head snapped down, cutting her off with a look so fierce it froze her. “Don’t.”

“I just want to say - ”

“No.” His hand tightened suddenly, fingers digging into her side. “You don’t get to speak like that. Nothing is going to happen.”

The certainty in his voice was startling, almost frightening. His eyes bored into hers, sharp and burning, and for a moment she could believe him, she could almost believe that his will alone could bend the outcome.

Her lips parted, but no words came. The danger outside still loomed, yet all she could feel was the tension buzzing between them, hot and fragile.

Tom’s grip eased slightly, though he didn’t let her go. “When we get out of here,” He whispered, “then you can thank me, if you insist on wasting your breath on sentiment. Not before.”

Her chest ached, caught between indignation and relief. “You make it sound like I’m dramatic.” She whispered back, a small smile somehow breaking through despite the tense situation.

Hie rolled his eyes, smiling back. “You are dramatic.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks, though she tried to glare. The tree was too narrow for them to look away, and neither did.

Outside, the forest groaned again, the scream echoing faintly as though the creature circled back. Tom shifted slightly, pressing even closer, his body shielding hers instinctively. Evelyn’s breath hitched at the contact, her hands firmly planted in his robes.

“Stay quiet,” He murmured, “stay still.”

As though she could do anything else. She nodded, choosing to bury her head in the crook of his neck again as the creature's lumbering frame came closer to their hiding spot.

Tom’s hand tightened around her, gripping her firmly. “We run on my mark.” He whispered, eyes scanning the gaps between the trees. His wand was already raised, fingers twitching as if itching to cast, but he held himself still. “When it comes past, we move.”

Evelyn nodded, stomach twisting in a combination of fear and adrenaline. Her pulse throbbed so hard she could feel it in her throat.

A shriek cut through the undergrowth. The creature barrelled past the hollow, its grotesque limbs flailing, knocking branches aside. Tom didn’t hesitate.

“Now!”

They burst from the tree, sprinting before their feet had even touched solid ground. Roots snagged at robes and legs; branches whipped across their faces. Evelyn stumbled over one massive root, barely regaining her balance as Tom yanked her forward with a tug that left her breathless.

The creature followed, horrifyingly fast, its distorted shriek filling the space behind them. Evelyn’s lungs burned, her legs pumping as they ducked beneath low-hanging branches, leapt over roots, and slid past fallen logs.

“Keep up!” He barked. His voice was sharp, commanding, and cut through Evelyn’s building panic.

Evelyn’s foot caught a hidden root, and she pitched forward. Pain shot up her ankle as she rolled, landing hard on her shoulder. She cried out in pain, clutching it in shock. She tried to stand, but the jagged pain forced her down.

Tom spun round in an instant, his dark eyes locking onto hers. “Evelyn!” He didn’t even hesitate, brandishing his wand fiercely as the words fell from his lips in a torrent of controlled fury.

“Flagrum Infernum!”

The spell struck the creature like a lance of black fire, hissing against its distorted skin. It shrieked in pain, thrashing violently. Evelyn scrambled back, her senses overwhelmed by how dark the magic was that Tom was wielding. It assaulted her senses, and if she’d eaten recently she would have thrown up then and there.

He continued to brandish his wand, continuing the attack. The creature reeled, clearly wounded, and it finally bounded off, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.

“Tom, I can’t stand.” Evelyn gasped out, shaking as all the adrenaline in her body left her. He crouched beside her, examining her ankle gently. Without warning, he scooped her up into his arms bridal style as if she weighed nothing, and she automatically looped her arms around his neck.

“I’ve got you.” He said firmly. Evelyn was speechless as he carried her away from the forest, her eyes peeking over his shoulder in case the creature decided to come back. Evelyn’s face was burning, half from the pain and half from the sheer impossibility of the situation: Tom Riddle, carrying without the faintest hint of hesitation.

They eventually broke free from the forest and Evelyn let out a breath.

“I’ve never been so glad to see Hogwarts.” She mumbled, resting her head on his shoulder. She opened her mouth to ward off any mention of them visiting the hospital wing, but Tom’s cutting glare made the words die on her lips.

“You can’t even stand - let alone walk - on that ankle, we’re going to the hospital wing.” His jaw was stubbornly set, and she knew there was no convincing him otherwise. His eyes softened as he looked down at her again. “You don’t need to worry about anything, just leave the talking to me.”

Evelyn nodded, fully trusting him. He had already proven himself more than capable of looking after both of them. Once they eventually reached the doors leading into the castle, he gently placed her on the ground, gently winding her arm round his shoulders and his arm round her waist.

Together, they slowly made their way toward Madam Spleen, ignoring the few curious stares from students who were dotted about.

When they reached the hospital wing, Madam Spleen looked up from a stack of neatly folded bandages and sighed heavily, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“Why is it always you two?” She exclaimed, bustling toward them. “I swear, half the trouble in this castle could be traced to Mr. Riddle and Miss Bennett walking through my doors together.”

Evelyn blushed, casting Tom a miserable look as he helped her over to one of the beds.

“She’s hurt.” He said curtly, gesturing down at her ankle.

Madam Spleen peered at it, noticing how it was starting to swell. Her eyes swept over both of their appearances, her frost demeanour melting into concern.

“How did this happen?”

There was the briefest pause before Tom answered. “We were in the Forbidden Forest.”

The effect was instantaneous. Madam Spleen froze, her hand stilling on Evelyn’s foot, then she straightened sharply. “The Forbidden Forest? Do you children ever take warnings seriously? That’s it. Headmaster Dippet will hear of this. And your Head of House.” She flicked her wand, sending a Patronus soaring out of the room with her message.

Evelyn’s stomach dropped. She darted a horrified look at Tom. She waited until Madam Spleen moved away before hurriedly whispering. “You shouldn’t have said that.”

“Quiet,” Tom murmured, his gaze didn’t leave the healer once, “leave it to me.”

Minutes later, the doors opened. Professor Slughorn waddled in first, his usually genial face shadowed with disappointment. “Oh dear, oh dear, what’s all this?” He muttered, mopping his brow with a handkerchief. Behind him came Headmaster Dippet, looking older and wearier than ever, his eyebrows furrowing the moment his eyes landed on the pair.

Before either could speak, another figure glided in with quiet authority - Professor Dumbledore. His sharp blue eyes swept the room, missing nothing. His attention landed instantly on Tom, his eyes narrowing imperceptibly.

“Well,” Dippet said at last, his voice grave, “the Forbidden Forest is not a place for students. I should hope you two know that better than most. This is most disappointing.”

Slughorn wrung his hands. “Tom, my boy, Evelyn - what possessed you? Don’t you realise how dangerous - ”

Tom schooled his expression, leaning on his favoured status with Slughorn and Dippet. He spoke to them, completely ignoring Dumbledore as if he weren’t even there.

“It wasn’t our intention,” He started, his voice sounding earnest. “We were walking - admittedly closer than we should have been to the forest's edge, when a creature came upon us. I did what I had to do to drive it back. If I hadn’t, she’d be in far worse shape than a sprained ankle.”

His words were precise and delivered with such composure that Evelyn almost believed them herself. Her mouth opened to protest, but Tom’s hand brushed lightly against her back, warning her not to speak.

Dumbledore’s gaze sharpened, fixing on Tom. “What kind of creature?” He asked quietly.

Tom hesitated, and this time his uncertainty was genuine. “It is…difficult to say. It’s something I’ve never seen before.”

Evelyn darted a look at Tom, but his face was unreadable, his chin tilted slightly higher as though daring anyone to question him further. Evelyn shuffled uncomfortably, the room feeling unbearably heavy under the weight of so many eyes. Tom was about to speak again when Evelyn’s quiet voice cut across him.

“It was my fault.”

The adults turned to her in surprise, but she held their gaze steadily as she sat up. She ignored Tom’s surprised stare.

“Truth be told, I thought I heard a woman screaming in the forest. I panicked - I thought someone was in danger.” She confessed miserably, her cheeks heating in shame, “I ran in before Tom could stop me.” She glanced at him, smiling faintly. “He came after me to save me.”

Slughorn’s eyebrows climbed his forehead until they looked like they would disappear into his hairline. Dippet looked aghast, and Dumbledore was assessing both Tom and Evelyn with renewed interest, his eyes dancing between them as if he were working out a puzzle.

“A woman screaming, you say?” Dumbledore asked quietly, stepping closer. “And this creature…was it incredibly large, almost appearing human in some instances? Did its eyes gleam as if lit from within?”

Evelyn shuddered, the image of the creature burned into her eyes. Her mind flickered back to when it had seemed to morph into something terrifyingly human yet wrong, all long limbs and crooked.

“Yes, exactly that.” She whispered. She didn’t need to fake the tremble of fear that lanced through her, nor the way her voice shook. Tom stepped closer, squeezing her arm in reassurance.

Dumbledore inclined his head, grave. “Then you were extraordinarily fortunate. That was most likely a Letharyn Wraith. They lure travellers with cries for help, only to consume them once they draw near. Few encounter one and walk away unscathed.”

Slughorn let out a booming gasp, clutching his chest. “Merlin’s beard, a Letharyn Wraith*?* Well, if that’s the case - points must be awarded! Yes, quite right! For bravery, for quick thinking. And Tom - rescuing Miss Bennett like that - very gallant, very gallant indeed.” Slughorn clapped his hands, the noise too loud in the otherwise quiet wing. His jovial smile appeared back on his face as he clapped Tom on the shoulder.

Tom meanwhile had dipped his head, a modest smile on his lips. “I only did what anyone would have done.” He said smoothly, his voice carrying just enough warmth to sound genuine. “Evelyn needed help. That was all that mattered to me.”

Slughorn positively beamed, dabbing at his forehead with his handkerchief. “Selfless as ever, Tom. If only more students were like you. A true prefect, an example to the rest. Fifty points to Slytherin!”

Tom gave a small, bashful shrug, lowering his gaze in a picture of humility. “I don’t deserve that, Professor.” His hand brushed lightly against Evelyn’s back again, his voice softening. “I only did what I could.”

Slughorn chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “Oh, young love! There’s no force quite like it, eh?”

Heat bloomed across Evelyn’s face, but she found herself unable to form a denial, preferring Tom to take the lead. He didn’t deny it either. He smiled faintly, his eyes cast downward as if embarrassed, but the silence between them spoke volumes.

Slughorn’s chuckle turned into a jolly laugh. “Yes, yes, of course. Well, that explains everything. Protecting each other, foolish bravery - it all makes sense.”

Dippet sighed, though the harsh lines of his expression had softened. “While I still do not condone such recklessness, I suppose…given the circumstances…you both should be commended for surviving an encounter most adults would not.”

Dumbledore, however, did not laugh. His eyes lingered on Evelyn, then Tom, as though he could see far deeper than the surface performance. He inclined his head slowly. “Indeed,” He murmured, “Very fortunate. I’d be most interested to know how you managed to escape.” He directed the question at Tom, but Evelyn spoke firmly.

“I cast Expecto Patronum which distracted the wraith long enough for us to escape.” The memory of Tom’s dark magic burned through her mind, but she shook the thought away.

“Impressive, Miss Bennett! Very impressive indeed.” Slughorn looked at her with renewed interest, as if he hadn’t considered her before.

“Fortunate or not,” Madam Spleen interrupted briskly, her arms folded, “both of you are staying here overnight. No arguments.”

Evelyn sat up a little straighter on the bed. “But I’m fine - ”

“You’re not fine!” Madam Spleen cut across sharply. “That ankle will need a proper potion to mend, and I want to make sure the swelling goes down before I let you limp out of here. As for you, Mr. Riddle - ” She fixed Tom with a knowing stare, “you’ll stay put as well. Judging by the aura of exhaustion you’re trying to hide, you’ve burned through more magic than you ought to. Don’t think I can’t tell.”

Tom inclined his head politely, lips curving faintly. “If you insist, Madam.”

“Good.” She huffed, satisfied. The Professors murmured amongst themselves for a moment before they left, Dumbledore staring at Tom as he exited. Madam Spleen provided them both with nightclothes which they both changed into in their respective bathrooms.

“Now rest. And silence. I won’t have you chattering until dawn.” With that, she bustled back to her desk, muttering about reckless children and magical injuries, the lamplight casting long shadows across the wing.

“You’re a lot of trouble,” he said softly, almost a murmur, though there was no teasing in it—just a quiet, dark observation.

Evelyn glanced up at him, her voice low. “And you’re a lot of help.”

For a long moment, they simply breathed, the chaos of the night pressing in on the edges, but the immediate danger gone. Outside, the distant laughter and voices of their friends faded, leaving only the muted glow of the common room and the tense, electric closeness between them.

Evelyn knew she wouldn’t forget this night—or the way Tom had held her, protected her, and somehow managed to seem completely in control while the forest tried to destroy them. And though she couldn’t admit it aloud, there was a thrill in knowing he was still there, close enough that she could feel every subtle shift of his body as they rested in the quiet aftermath.

Chapter Text

The evening had faded into night, and the hospital wing was silent except for the distant hoot of an owl. Evelyn lay staring at the ceiling, the faint throb of her ankle and the ache in her body a constant reminder of what had happened. She shifted slightly, turning her head to glance at Tom on the bed beside her.

He was lying on his back, one arm folded under his head, the other resting lightly on his chest. He looked perfectly at ease as he stared up at the ceiling, and her heart swelled with gratitude.

“Tom?” She whispered.

His head turned toward her, dark eyes catching hers. “Hmm?”

“Thank you. For everything tonight.” She paused, fiddling with the sheets. “I wouldn’t have made it out of there alive without you.”

Something flickered in his expression, brief but unmistakable. Surprise. “You already tried to take the blame for all of it,” He murmured, almost amused, “and now you’re thanking me for saving you.”

“Because you did. I dread to think what would have happened if you hadn’t been there. That spell you used, you were so sure. You were incredible! You didn’t even hesitate, you just protected me.” Evelyn’s voice was warm, her eyes open and bright as she spoke. She was leaning toward him, and Tom found himself caught up in her eyes.

He turned his gaze up to the ceiling again. “You make it sound noble. It wasn’t.”

Her heart fluttered as she studied him in the half-darkness, marvelling at how someone could be so striking in the dim moonlight and so effortlessly skilled with magic at the same time.

“You always sound so certain,” She said softly. “Like you know exactly what to do. I’ve never met anyone like you.” Evelyn knew she sounded like she was gushing, but the words fell out her mouth fluidly, and she didn’t want to stop them.

“Certainty is easy to fake, Evelyn. People believe what they want to believe. Tonight, you needed someone certain. That’s all.”

“Well, it worked. And I’m grateful.” She smiled at him, and he hummed back pleasantly, choosing not to speak. She let the silence settle, her eyes almost slipping closed.

“You surprise me.” Tom said at last, his voice low.

“Why?”

“You tried to take the blame earlier, you didn’t have to do that.” He turned his head to look at her, her chest warmed at how open he sounded. “You’d risk trouble to protect me. Why?”

She smiled, her voice soft. “Because that’s what friends do. And I owe you my life. I also didn’t want them to get the wrong end of the stick and think badly of you.”

For the first time all evening, Tom looked momentarily disarmed. His lips parted, but no reply came. He studied her instead, his head tilted against his pillow.

Finally, he said almost gently, “Just when I think I’ve figured you out, you show me I haven’t.”

Her mouth quirked faintly. “Is that a good thing?”

A slow smile touched his lips, more genuine than the bashful one he’d given the professors. “It might be.”

Evelyn sighed, her eyes drooping as she fought to stay awake. “Goodnight, Tom.”

“Goodnight, Evelyn.”

Evelyn drifted somewhere between wakefulness and sleep, the long shadows thrown across the room by the dimly lit lantern invading her dreams. They morphed into the wraith, shrieking as it pounded after her. Everywhere she turned, she was met by a dead end of thickets and brambles that tore at her clothes.

She tried to raise her wand, to fight it off, but it finally pounced - !

Evelyn flailed and bolted upright, clutching at the bedsheets in fright. Her heart was hammering away, and for a moment she was disorientated, wondering in fright where the monster was.

“Evelyn.” She whipped her head round until she spotted Tom, who was propped up on one elbow, watching her. “You were dreaming.”

She pressed her hand to her chest, willing the trembling of her frame to stop.

“Oh Tom, every time I close my eyes I see it again.” Her voice shook despite her best efforts, and she dragged the sheets tighter around herself, as if they offered extra protection.

Tom studied her, his expression unreadable. His lips pressed into a thin line and he frowned, before he finally rose from his bed without a word.

“Tom?” Evelyn asked, her voice small. She didn’t want him to leave.

He moved soundlessly across the gap that separated them until he sat down on the edge of her bed. He regarded her carefully, before he gingerly started to lower himself down. Evelyn’s hand shot out, stopping him.

“You won’t sleep like this.” He said simply.

Her breath caught. “You can’t - what if Madam Spleen…?”

“She won’t hear us. And we’re not doing anything wrong. I’m not going anywhere until you calm down.”

For a moment they just looked at each other, until Tom continued to lower himself down until he was lying flat on his back. He kept a careful distance, but his presence was steadying, and Evelyn found herself relaxing instantly.

Oh Tom, who knew he could be so sweet? Evelyn blushed, glad it was dark enough that he probably couldn’t see her cheeks.

“You don’t have to.” She whispered, but she squeezed his hand in thanks and she settled down again, feeling much safer.

“I know,” He said quietly, “but you’ll sleep easier if you know you’re not alone.”

Evelyn felt genuinely touched as she nodded, deciding not to argue the point. She closed her eyes, although if anything she felt far more awake because of his presence.

Okay, you’re lying in bed next to Tom Riddle. No need to panic…just be normal. And yet, normal suddenly felt impossible. She lay there rigid, painfully aware of every subtle movement he made, and her thoughts started to spiral.

Was she breathing too loudly? Could he feel how tense she was? Was he annoyed that he had to babysit her, did he think her foolish? All sorts of thoughts tumbled around her head, and Evelyn was sure he could feel how hard her heart was beating.

This certainly isn’t helping me get over him. She thought with a huff. Sure, the feelings had dulled after the Christmas holidays, but they hadn’t vanished. They were stubborn and clung to her, and now in this unbearably close moment, they took great pleasure in making themselves known again.

Eventually though, as she listened to his even breathing, she felt herself finally drifting off to sleep. This time, she didn’t dream.

At last, Evelyn’s breathing had steadied. Tom sighed as he regarded the troublesome witch who lay beside him; her hair was fanned out across the pillow, her eyelashes black smudges against her cheeks. Her chest rose and fell gently with each breath, causing her necklace to glint as it reflected the moonlight. He knew he had to get up and return to his own bed eventually, but something about how peaceful she looked made him stay.

It was a strange feeling, seeing Evelyn find solace and safety in his presence. A strange, protective feeling bubbled up in his chest, and he examined it with intrigue. Yes, Tom undoubtedly felt responsible for Evelyn’s well-being.

Anyone would feel a sense of responsibility for someone else, after sharing an experience like that. He reasoned, yet even to himself the words sounded like a lie. He cared about her, more deeply than he could articulate. He knew he would never allow her friendship to slip away from him again.

His thoughts wandered back to the Forbidden Forest, remembering the searing satisfaction of the curse spilling from his wand. It was the first time he got to use that particular spell, and he was pleased he had cast it flawlessly. The power he felt when wielding dark magic was unmatched. His fingers itched to cast it again.

Tom should have been focused only on the spell in that moment and in his victory, but in truth he had only been focused on her. The way she had called his name, the fear, the desperation for him to step in and save her…he usually weighed every action, thought about every step, but in that moment he had acted on pure instinct.

And that instinct had been to protect Evelyn.

Tom exhaled slowly, dragging his gaze from her face to the ceiling above. What was it about her? She wasn’t like the others; too clever to be manipulated as easily, too brave to shrink back. She had even taken the blame in front of Dippet, Dumbledore, and Slughorn. For him. No one had ever done that before.

A sliver of something unfamiliar moved through him, loosening the tight grip he always held on his own thoughts. Gratitude. He pushed the word away almost as soon as it came. Gratitude implied weakness. Dependence. And Tom Riddle depended on no one.

Still, his eyes grew heavy. Evelyn’s warmth beside him pulled him into a state of relaxation he had not known in years. Against his better judgment, he let sleep take him.

Tom didn’t know what time it was when he woke again, only that the wing was still cloaked in shadows, although the lantern had burnt out. For a confusing moment, he wasn’t sure why his chest felt heavier than usual - that was, until he glanced down.

The answer came in the form of Evelyn Bennett, of course.

At some point during the night, she had shifted in her sleep, curling against him with her head resting on his shoulder. Her hand had slipped across his chest, fingers buried unconsciously into the folds of his shirt. His left arm was half trapped beneath her, and he froze.

His heart gave a sharp, traitorous kick, and for one breathless instant, he panicked. He thought about pushing her away from him immediately, but the thought didn’t sit well with him. It would have been easy, and he should have done it, but he didn’t.

Instead, he remained perfectly still, staring down at the girl who had somehow drifted so close without his notice. The strangest thing was, he didn’t hate it.

His throat tightened, his thoughts a mess of contradictions. She would be mortified if she knew. He should disentangle himself before she woke. He should be feeling mortified.

And still, he remained.

The sky was starting to lighten outside however, so he carefully extracted himself and returned to own bed, which felt far too empty and cold for his liking.

Sunlight filtered weakly through the tall windows of the hospital wing, casting pale squares across the floor. Evelyn stirred and yawned, before stretching like a cat in her bed. The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was Tom; he was already awake, sitting up in his bed with a book propped open.

He glanced up as Evelyn shifted, closing his book with a snap.

“Does it still hurt?” He asked gently, gesturing to her ankle.

“No.” Evelyn wriggled her foot happily. “All fixed! And thank you - I slept really well last night.” She blushed as her voice dropped.

Tom struggled for a moment before he inclined his head slightly, as though acknowledging a compliment he didn’t know what to do with. “Good, that was the point.”

Madam Spleen bustled over, two trays levitating in front of her. “Good, you’re both awake. Drink these, eat, and rest. Miss Bennett, the swelling is down and the pain should be gone, but I want you on your feet only with caution.”

“Yes, Madam Spleen. Thank you.”

“And you, Mr Riddle, you’ll remain here after breakfast so I can monitor your magical core levels. You burnt through a lot of magic last night.” She paused, watching as they both drank their prescribed potions. “I should also inform you both that you have visitors.”

Evelyn stopped nibbling on her toast as her friends burst through the door; Harriet, Adrian, and Alaric tumbled through, with Rosalind bringing up the rear at a more measured pace.

“Evelyn!” Harriet cried, her hair frazzled as she rushed forward. She nearly knocked Evelyn’s tray of breakfast over as she hugged her. “We were so worried when you didn’t come back last night! What happened? Are you alright? You should have seen Alaric, he was - ” She stopped abruptly, her cheeks colouring as she remembered who was present.

“You really gave us a scare, Evie.” Adrian’s voice was rougher than usual as he joined his sister, eyes scanning her face. Alaric appeared at her side too, his hand large and warm as it engulfed hers.

“What happened?” He demanded quietly, his eyes intense.

“I’m fine. It was mainly my ankle, but I’m okay now.” Evelyn said quickly, touched by their obvious concern.

Alaric scowled, turning his attention to Tom. “What did you get her into, Riddle?”

Evelyn’s eyes widened, but Tom only looked up at him, wholly unaffected. He took a sip of his tea before setting the tray aside on the bedside table.

“We went for a walk.” He said dryly, his tone flat with deliberate understatement. Evelyn couldn’t help the burst of laughter that escaped her, her hand slipping out of Alaric’s as she covered her mouth. Rosalind stepped closer and entwined her fingers with him quickly.

Even Tom couldn’t help but let his lips twist in amusement, which caused Alaric great offence.

“You think this is funny?”

Evelyn cut him off by placing her hand on his arm, retreating only with a grin when he turned to face her. “Alaric, stop. Tom saved me. I’m only here because of him. I thought I heard someone screaming for help in the Forbidden Forest, and I ran in before he could stop me. He followed in after me and fought off a wraith! He carried me out when I couldn’t walk.” She sent Tom a blindingly genuine smile, her voice softening.

Alaric faltered, his jaw working as though he wanted to argue but had no ground left to stand on.

“I’m certainly glad you’re both okay.” Rosalind at last spoke, her voice quiet. She leaned against Alaric, kissing his arm in a calming gesture. Evelyn looked away, suddenly interested in her breakfast once again.

Adrian shook his head, his voice sharp. “You heard a scream in the Forbidden Forest and decided to just run in? You’re lucky Riddle was there.”

Adrian sighed and strode over to Tom, extending his hand. Tom looked at him curiously, confused, but he shook it anyway. Adrian cleared his throat, meeting his eyes.

“Thank you for being there. And for getting Evie out alive.”

Tom’s expression softened, a shadow of something unspoken passing between them, and he gave a brief, almost reluctant nod.

“I don’t know why you’re bothering to shake his hand,” Alaric ground out, “I’d rather Evie didn’t need rescuing at all.”

Harriet glared at him before turning to Tom as well. “Yes, I echo my brother's sentiments. Thank you Tom.” The prefect in question looked downright uncomfortable at being thanked so much, but he accepted it gracefully, politely smiling nonetheless.

“You mentioned it was a wraith?” Harriet asked.

“It was a Letharyn Wraith.” Tom supplied. Everyone went quiet, surprised that he had spoken at all.

“It screamed like a woman crying for help.” Evelyn muttered, shuddering at the memory.

“How awful.” Harriet said sympathetically, hand reaching out to grip her shoulder comfortingly.

Rosalind tilted her head, a hint of judgement in her voice as she spoke. “I can’t believe you just followed the sound. I thought you were a Slytherin, not a Gryffindor.” The words were said kindly enough, but Evelyn thought she could detect a hint of derision as she spoke.

Before she could defend herself, Tom spoke again. “She followed it because she thought someone was in need.” He said it calmly, but the weight of his gaze was withering and it caused Rosalind to clamp her mouth shut.

“So you fought it? Alone?” Alaric challenged Tom.

“He did, and he was amazing.” Evelyn said firmly.

Tom reclined back in his pillow, completely unbothered by Alaric’s attitude. “Trouble seems to like us. I’ve learned not to question it.”

“More like you cause it.” Alaric muttered under his breath. Tom didn’t so much as turn his head, instead allowing the faintest trace of amusement to ghost across his face. Alaric’s barb was nothing more than a child’s toy tossed at his feet

Tension pressed in again, heavy and palpable, until Evelyn felt herself bristle with indignation.

“Will you stop looking at him like that? I know you don’t like each other, but he saved my life, and that’s the truth! I won’t let anyone twist it into something it’s not!” Her cheeks were flushed with conviction, and she stared at Alaric accusingly, genuine anger leaking into her voice.

Alaric deflated, running a hand through his hair apologetically. “I’m just glad you’re safe.” He grudgingly nodded at Tom, who quirked an eyebrow but didn’t react otherwise.

There was silence, but Evelyn knew Alaric well enough to see that he was anything but calm - he was boiling. He ran his hand through his hair once more and Evelyn grimaced, realising that he wasn’t done.

“I just don’t get it, you drag her away for what - a walk practically in the Forbidden Forest? - and I’m supposed to now thank you for being clever enough to get her out again?”

“You’ve clearly misheard the entire story, Blackwood. But perhaps you think I should have left her there alone once she crossed the treeline?” Tom’s tone was silk, his expression perfectly neutral, but his eyes were dark and they never once wavered.

Alaric’s eyes flashed. “Don’t twist this - ”

“I’m not twisting anything,” Tom said smoothly, a smile on his face, “you just don’t like the fact that I was there and you weren’t.”

The words landed neatly, just as Tom had expected. Rosalind’s nails dug slightly into Alaric’s hand as her eyes flickered between the two boys, before they landed appraisingly on Evelyn.

“For goodness sake, both of you stop it!” Evelyn exclaimed, heat rising in her cheeks.

Rosalind cupped his face with one hand, her brown eyes capturing his. “Alaric, please calm down. You’re making a scene. These two surely need their rest, and we have lessons to attend. We should probably go.”

Alaric bit down on the inside of his cheek, visibly restraining himself. His eyes lingered on Evelyn, burning with words he couldn’t say, before he nodded and turned on his heel, throwing a goodbye over his shoulder and dragging Rosalind behind him. Harriet and Adrian bade her farewell too, even including Tom in their goodbyes as they left the hospital wing. Harriet apologised profusely for Alaric’s behaviour all the way until she disappeared into the hallway, and Evelyn let out a sigh of relief.

She glanced over at Tom, watching as he sunk into his pillow. Evelyn could see the faint shadows in his expression as he finally loosened up; he had been sparring all the previous evening with the wraith, and now with Alaric - it was only now that she realised how much energy it must have cost him.

“I’m really sorry about Alaric.” She whispered, crossing the small space between them to settle down on his bed. Without thinking too hard, she leaned in and encased Tom in a hug, bending down at the waist until she was half laying on top of him.

His arms almost rose of their own accord, circling around her back securely. He suddenly felt lightheaded with the knowledge that she was warm, real, and alive in his arms after the danger of the night.

“Thank you, I should have listened to you, but you didn’t leave me behind. I’ll never forget that.” She murmured against his neck, trying to hold it together. Before he could answer, she pulled back just slightly, her eyes searching his. Then, impulsively, she leaned forwards and pecked him on the cheek.

It was soft, quick, and simple - but it might as well have been lightening.

Tom’s breath stilled as he watched her pull back, cheeks dusted pink with an achingly sweet smile on her face. The unfamiliar twist of butterflies erupted in his chest, and for a moment the world outside didn’t exist.

He studied her, his usual sharp thoughts strangely absent. He wanted to say something cutting, something clever to smooth away the vulnerability in the air. But the words didn’t come. Instead, he gave her the smallest, most unguarded smile he could ever remember offering anyone.

“…You’re welcome.” He muttered warmly. As Evelyn gathered her things and promised to to come back and visit him, Tom Riddle decided that she was far more dangerous to him than any creature in the Forbidden Forest.

The whispers spread quicker than fire in dry grass. By lunchtime the following day, Evelyn and Tom’s escapade in the Forbidden Forest was common knowledge. Fragments of it echoed in the hallways, twisted into near-myth by eager mouths and overactive imaginations until it finally landed in the Slytherin Common room.

Lessons had just finished for the day, and Evelyn and Alaric returned to the Slytherin common room, their relationship once again strained. They arrived in silence, only to be greeted by hushed murmurs as they crossed the threshold.

A multitude of students were gathered by the fireplace; all available seats were taken, with some students electing to sit on the floor and others leaning against the wall. At the centre of it all in an armchair that might as well have been a throne, sat Tom Riddle. His posture was languid yet commanding, and he held the room effortlessly, everyone enraptured as he painted a picture of the forest to them.

It wasn’t just the story they were drinking in - it was him. Tom spoke as though he were indulging them, as if every word was a privilege that he might take back at any moment.

Alaric scoffed quietly beside her, crossing his arms over his chest in distaste. Evelyn sighed, her heart aching as his expression; recently Alaric had seemed like a shadow of the carefree boy she had once known. Gone were his easy smiles and jokes, instead there were strained silences, scowls, and awkwardness where once there was closeness and warmth.

She missed him.

“Evelyn! Come tell us what happened!” She wasn’t sure who had called out to her, but suddenly everyone had turned to examine her curiously, eager to hear what she had to say.

Tom’s lips curled, and he leaned further back into the armchair. “Yes,” He said smoothly, his tone both inviting and commanding, “come here Evelyn. Tell them yourself.”

There was no mistaking the gleam in his eyes, a mixture of challenge, amusement, and subtle possession, all threaded together. Dozens of pairs of eyes stared at her, and Evelyn felt pressured to join him at the centre. Reluctantly, she weaved through the cluster of students until she reached where he was sitting, Tom’s gaze never wavering. With a subtle motion toward the chair’s arm, he guided her to sit.

Before she knew it, she was perched lightly on the arm of his chair. His very presence seemed to radiate heat as he leaned closer, causing her to blush. The room reacted instantly - whispers broke out, with a few heads turning to watch Alaric’s reaction. The image they presented was unmistakable: a couple.

Tom smirked like a cat who’d got the cream. Evelyn refrained from rolling her eyes at his dramatics as he glanced over at Alaric, who was standing on the edges of the crowd, his eyes stormy. Evelyn couldn’t decipher the look he gave her - longing? Accusation? Disappointment? - before he abruptly turned to leave.

“Going somewhere, Blackwood?” Dolohov called cruelly, causing a few of the Slytherin’s to snicker behind their hands. Tom didn’t even turn his head at the commotion, his fingers skimming Evelyn’s lower back with just enough pressure to make her stay put when she made to follow after him.

She shivered as Tom continued to speak as if nothing had happened. Only this time with Evelyn by his side. It wasn’t just a story anymore, it was theatre - and she had become part of the performance.

And everyone in that room knew it.

Evelyn let out a sigh of relief as the last second-year student went upstairs to bed, leaving just her and a few of the other older students in the common room. Tom had left with his group of friends to do whatever they did in their meetings, bidding her goodbye with the promise of seeing her in their lessons tomorrow, and for all intents and purposes, there was no reason for Evelyn to stay awake.

All throughout the evening she couldn’t help but notice that Alaric hadn’t returned. It was nearly ten ‘o’ clock, where could he be?

Probably with Rosalind. She thought, a sour taste in her mouth. As if she had summoned him with her thoughts alone, Alaric Blackwood stepped into the common room, the ghost of a smile on his lips. His hair was mussed, his tie loose, and the top buttons of his shirt were undone. Evelyn could hear the fading laughter of Rosalind out in the dungeon corridor, and she blanched, realising she had made a terrible mistake of waiting for him.

“Evelyn?” He stopped short, suddenly uncomfortable. She stood up quickly, smoothing her skirt out as she tried to recover from how flustered she was feeling.

“I was just heading up.”

Alaric cleared his throat, glancing at the now shut entrance to the common room.

“Can we talk?” He asked quietly, stepping a little closer. Evelyn hesitated before giving a small nod, leading the way over to a dark corner, far away from curious eyes. Evelyn waited patiently as Alaric stalled, his eyes flitting everywhere before finally settling on her.

What does he want? Evelyn wondered, her heart pounding.

“I find it hard,” Alaric said finally, his voice low, “to see you with Riddle.”

Evelyn tilted her head, unable to hide her surprise. Of all the things she thought he would say, that wasn’t it. She cleared her own throat, eyes piercing as she tried to figure him out.

“Why?”

He gave a short, humourless laugh. “Maybe because I know you two have kissed. Or something like that.” He tried to sound casual, but his clenched fists and furrowed brows betrayed more than his words ever could.

Evelyn let out a dry laugh of her own, unable to believe what she was hearing.

“Well, it’s not exactly easy for me to see you with Rosalind either. It’s worse - you’re actually with her.” She eyed his dishevelled appearance in disgust, her nose scrunching up.

“…I know.” Alaric admitted, leaning forward as he spoke. “I think I need some space, whilst things…settle. It isn’t fair to her if I keep feeling like I’m being pulled back here - “ He stopped talking, shaking his head and looking away, as though ashamed of finishing the thought. His cheeks were red and his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

Evelyn’s heart lurched painfully, but she had to admit that she was impressed by how mature Alaric was being, and she appreciated that he was trying to do his best by Rosalind.

You encouraged this! Don’t forget that! Evelyn sighed in misery. She didn’t know what she was doing anymore.

“I understand.” The steadiness in her tone cost more than she cared to admit.

“I’m sorry.” Alaric said gently, hand reaching out to hold Evelyn’s. He stroked the back of her knuckles with his thumb before he suddenly let go, his eyes closing briefly. “I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want to hurt Rosalind either…but the more time we spend like this, the harder it gets.”

Evelyn felt like she was underwater, barely hearing what Alaric was saying. She nodded faintly.

“I agree. We need boundaries.” She forced the words out even as her chest ached with them.

“Yes. But I’m not going to disappear. We’ll still hang out - you, me, Adrian, Harriet - just like we always have, but with boundaries.” He nodded firmly, although whether it was for Evelyn’s benefit or his own remained to be seen.

Neither of them made any move to leave, instead they sat in silence, both knowing this would be the last time for a while they could be like this with each other. Alaric shifted, drawing Evelyn’s eyes to him. He ran his hand through his hair, letting out a sharp exhale as he leaned back and jiggled his leg.

“You and Tom…what’s really going on between you? Just be honest with me Evie, you owe me that much.”

Evelyn gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Honestly Alaric, there is nothing going on between us. I told you already, he made it abundantly clear that he’s not interested. We’re just friends.”

“Then why?” He asked, surprise and disbelief in his eyes. “Why aren’t we together?”

There we go, the million dollar question. We aren’t together because I am a mess. We aren’t together because my heart feels torn in two directions and I can’t sort myself out.

But Evelyn didn’t voice her thoughts, instead she dropped her gaze to her lap.

“Because it wouldn’t be fair to you. You know this already.” She glanced around, her voice lowering. “Tom is still there, in the background. He may not want anything romantic with me, but you’d always wonder if he was between us. And I still need some time.” She confessed gently.

“You think I’d care about him? If we were together, I’d trust you entirely.” His voice was hard as he spoke.

“You deserve better than half of me. You deserve someone who isn’t still haunted by somebody else. And a piece of you belongs to Rosalind as well.”

The silence that followed was almost unbearable. The fire popped in the distance, and a couple who had been cosily wrapped up in each other on the sofa and drifted up the stairs to their dorm rooms, the girl giggling the whole time.

At last Alaric muttered, “You think I deserve Rosalind then?”

“You deserve someone who can give you their whole heart.” Evelyn replied carefully. Suddenly, the silence of the common room was broken by Rosier and Avery’s loud jesting as they approached, and Evelyn stood up quickly.

“Goodnight, Alaric.”

He studied her, memorising every detail of her face before he rose to his feet with visible effort.

“Goodnight, Evie.”

Chapter Text

Revelations

The castle was always nosier in the evenings, a steady hum of voices carrying through stone and footsteps echoing in stairwells. Evelyn, Harriet, Adrian, and Alaric had tucked themselves away in one of the forgotten study alcoves, a lantern lit pocket that consisted of a cluster of battered armchairs someone had dragged together years ago.

Evelyn sat in her chair, her hands folded nearly in front of her, her posture straighter than usual as if she were bracing against something. Next to her sat Alaric, his chair positioned just a little too far away. The gap between them was obvious and deliberate.

It was the day after they agreed that there needed to be some boundaries between them. The morning passed easily; Evelyn had actually sat with Tom and his friends in the Great Hall for breakfast, where they had agreed to meet up in the common room at eight ‘o’ clock to hang out. After breakfast, Evelyn has spent some time with Harriet and Margaret, the girls pouring over the latest issue of Witch Weekly in the Hufflepuff girls dormitory, until finally lunchtime had rolled round.

Evelyn had sat with Harriet and Adrian, whilst Alaric’s golden mop of hair could be seen at the Ravenclaw table, his arm securely fastened around Rosalind’s waist. Evelyn pretended she hadn’t noticed. She’d spent the early afternoon hours alone in the library, finding quiet solace between the pages of a book, until she had reunited with her friends in the study alcove.

The laughter that Evelyn and Alaric had once shared, and the moments that blurred the lines between friendship and something more were now gone. Instead, the air between them was too careful, with every word tested before being spoken.

The twins had noticed, of course. Adrian was lounging in his chair, one leg dangling over the edge as he watched them absentmindedly, his eyes flicking between the two like a spectator at a match where no one was moving. Harriet meanwhile, sat in her armchair with her legs crossed, pretending to thumb through a book she had brought with her.

Conversation ambled along between the four, disjointed and pointless. They talked about nothing; Adrian spoke about some lessons he’d skipped, rumours about some of the teachers, even the weather and how cold it still was. Still, the conversations kept shuddering to a halt, and every lull felt like a weight pressing in on the space.

Finally, Harriet closed her book and stowed it in her bag, placing her chin in her hand.

“So, any plans tonight Evie? You’re welcome to join Margaret and I on a walk in the gardens.”

“Thank you Harriet, however I do have plans tonight. I’ll be meeting Tom soon enough - nothing like that!” She hastened to explain, cheeks warming at Adrian’s raised eyebrows. “We’re just hanging out.”

“Hanging out? Whatever you say, Evie.” Adrian teased.

“We are!” Evelyn protested, her eyes sparkling as she laughed. “ I’m actually going to teach him the Patronus charm.”

Adrian’s mouth fell open as he sat up. “Hey! You haven’t offered to teach us how to perform that spell!”

Evelyn grinned at his outrage. “That’s because you’d just get distracted halfway through and turn it into some kind of competition.”

Adrian pointed at her with mock offense. “Maybe. But at least I’d be entertained. And you know I’d master it faster than Harriet.”

“Excuse me?” Harriet lifted her chin, her voice dripping with indignation. “I’d have a little robin red breast flying around before you could even conjure a wisp of mist!”

Evelyn laughed freely as the twins bickered, her eyes inadvertently meeting Alaric’s. For a heartbeat it almost felt like old times between them, but Alaric suddenly stood up

“Sorry guys, gotta go. Said I’d meet Rosalind.” It was a clumsy excuse, sounding transparent even to his own ears. He gazed at Evelyn intensely, as though the very sight of her might unravel him, before striding off down the corridor. Evelyn sighed as Harriet rolled her eyes.

“Well, that was dramatic.” Harriet exclaimed.

Evelyn shrugged, fiddling with her sleeves. “I guess he’s just busy.”

“Busy?” Adrian huffed, a tight grin on his face, “Busy running away, perhaps. What’s going on with you two?”

“Nothing is going on,” Evelyn stressed, “we’re just friends, and we’re fine.”

Adrian gave a low whistle, exchanging a look with his sister. “If that’s ‘fine’, I’d hate to see what a fight looks like.”

“Friends don’t look at each other like that, Evie.” Harriet murmured, a knowing look on her face.

Evelyn sighed miserably, letting her head fall limply onto her arms as her friends chuckled in sympathy. They continued to chat for a little while longer, eventually coaxing Evelyn back into joining them.

“Unlike Alaric, I actually have to go. Said I’d see Alicia.” Adrian mumbled, also standing up. The girls ooh’d at him as he stuck his tongue out and disappeared round the corner, leaving just the two of them.

“Come on, I’ll walk you back to your common room.” Evelyn offered easily. They giggled and chatted about Adrian and Alicia, carefully avoiding the topic of Alaric and Rosalind as they walked arm in arm through the castle.

They rounded a corner, heads bent when Evelyn spotted them first: two figures tucked under an archway, standing too close to each other. Alphard Nott, unmistakable in his relaxed posture, dark hair falling into his eyes as he stooped low. She didn’t recognise the other girl, though she looked to be a sixth or seventh-year Ravenclaw. Her stomach dropped as she realised what his hand was doing - it was sliding up the girl's skirt with an ease that made her face turn red.

“Evie?” Harriet asked in confusion, following her gaze. The instant she had registered the scene, all colour drained from her face. Her light expression shattered as she gasped, the sound of someone who had been betrayed.

Alphard’s head snapped round at the sound, his hand dropping like it had been burned. His eyes widened in surprise.

“Ah…Harriet, wait - ” He started, his voice low and hurried, but Harriet had already taken a step back, her eyes brimming with tears. She shook her head before she bolted, her footsteps echoing down the hallway. Evelyn blinked, torn between running after her friend and confronting Alphard.

She rounded on him, eyes fierce. “What’s in Merlin’s name do you think you’re doing?” She demanded. “I thought you were interested in Harriet!”

The other girl opened her mouth, drawing breath to speak, but Alphard cut her off without even glancing her way. “I’ll talk to you later.” He dismissed her coolly, and she huffed in offence, her cheeks blotchy with embarrassment.

She stalked away, her shoes clicking.

“Alphard, what were you doing?” Evelyn pressed. How could he do this to Harriet? Thoughtful, smart, quiet Alphard?

“I was trying not to lead Harriet on,” Alphard said calmly, “I’ve just never been interested in her.” The bluntness with which he spoke made her flinch, sending ripples of unease through her.

“Don’t you dare say it.” She snapped.

He pressed on anyway, eyes locking onto hers in the first real show of passion she’d ever seen in him. “I’ve only ever been interested in you. You know that.”

Evelyn ran her hand through her hair, the dark strands tumbling over her shoulder as she bit her lip. Of course she knew. He had confessed once before, but she thought that time and distance had dulled it. She had chosen to believe he was over it, and that Harriet’s sweet words and attention had meant something real - but clearly it hadn’t been the case.

“Alphard, you’ve been leading her on. Do you have any idea how much you’ve hurt her?” Evelyn admonished.

He sighed, leaning against the wall as he rearranged his expression and calmed down.

“I regret how this all played out. It was never my intention to let it go so far.”

Evelyn glared at him, the situation echoing too closely to Alaric and Rosalind. She was sick of boys believing that a simple admission of a ‘mistake’ could somehow erase the hurt their actions had caused.

“You need to fix this. You owe her something - maybe not the whole truth, I think that would truly finish her off - but you have to find her tonight and make things right.” Evelyn didn’t wait for his response. She saw the flicker of shame settling across his features and felt satisfied enough, choosing to turn on her heel and hurry after her friend.

Evelyn found her at the far end of the passageway, curled on the cold stone window seat where the torches didn’t quite reach. Harriet had her arms wrapped around herself, her head bent low, shoulders trembling.

“Harriet…” Evelyn said softly, kneeling beside her.

Harriet tried to speak but only managed a strangled sound. She pressed the heel of her hand to her eyes, as if she could wipe away the evidence. “I’m such an idiot.” She whispered, big fat tears rolled down her cheeks as she stared out the window. “I really thought - I mean he looked at me like - ”

“You are not an idiot.” Evelyn said kindly, her heart breaking at how upset her friend was.

Harriet sighed, scrubbing her face as she shakily stood up. “All this time, and he never really cared at all. What a fool I was.”

Evelyn hesitated, Alphard’s confession burning like acid on her tongue. She wanted to protect Harriet from the truth, but Harriet’s wide, tear-stained eyes searched hers, desperate for something solid.

“He was wrong to treat you that way,” Evelyn said carefully, “and I told him he needs to explain himself to you. He will.”

Harriet sniffled pitifully as they slowly continued their walk back to the Hufflepuff common room, leaving the corridor - and the mess Alphard had created - behind them.

Evelyn hurried toward the common room, stopping short when she spotted Tom waiting out the front for her. Even in his relaxed stance, there was an undeniable presence about him - magnetic, effortless, and achingly handsome - and she found herself breathless as she reached him.

“Evelyn,” He inclined his head with a small smile, “you’re late. Shall we?” He pushed off from the wall, falling into step with her as they walked. The dungeon corridors were dimly lit, the torchlight painting long shadows over the stones. Evelyn found herself oddly aware of the sound of her own footsteps and breathing, amplified by the castle’s silence.

“So,” Tom began after a few minutes, “since you’ve deigned to appear, I hope you’re prepared for a long evening. I have prefect rounds.”

“You invited me along for prefect duties? I didn’t realise I was here to keep you company like a glorified lantern.” Evelyn teased.

Tom chuckled. “I wouldn’t insult you with such a comparison. You’re more entertaining than a lantern.”

“High praise.” Evelyn responded dryly, but her heart fluttered as they shared a warm look with each other.

They walked in comfortable silence for some time, passing the occasional window where light weakly filtered through. Evelyn tried to enjoy her time with Tom, but her thoughts kept circling back to Harriet’s face, Alphard’s words, and the ugliness of the evening. She must have been more reserved than usual, because after a while, Tom slowed and angled his head toward her.

“You’re tense,” He observed, “what’s wrong?”

There was no use in pretending with Tom.

“It’s Alphard, he upset Harriet tonight. And me.”

Tom’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes narrowed. “What did he do?”

“We caught him red-handed with another girl,” Evelyn began, her voice tight, “Harriet ran off immediately, and I confronted him. And then - “ She stopped, biting the rest down.

Tom filled the silence easily. “And then he told you he still fancies you.”

Evelyn gaped, her heart stuttering anxiously. “You knew?”

“Of course.” Tom said it without hesitation, his tone almost bored. “He’s never been subtle.”

They continued to walk, although she couldn’t help but shoot him half bewildered, half offended looks. She shook her head in exasperation.

“I can’t believe you never thought to mention it.”

“Why would I? It’s not as if I feel threatened.” Tom said it casually enough, but Evelyn glanced over at him questioningly.

For someone who isn’t ‘threatened’, he certainly sounds a little bothered. Or is it wishful thinking on my part? Probably wishful thinking.

“You say that like you’re trying to convince yourself.” Evelyn teased. They paused to allow Tom to check an empty classroom, catching two Gryffindor third-years in there who he chastised and sent away with a warning.

They started to walk again, and Tom spoke. “Alphard’s infatuation is irrelevant. He may flatter himself with fantasies, but that doesn’t mean they hold any weight. I’m hardly concerned about his little crush.” The certainty in his voice amused her; he always spoke like that, as if he believed the world bent itself neatly around his will.

They reached the Grand Staircase and started to ascend.

“Harriet’s really hurt,” Evelyn continued, “she really thought - ”

“She thought what Alphard wanted her to think,” Tom interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind, “that’s on him, not on you.”

They fell into silence, and to Evelyn’s surprise, his words left her oddly comforted. She knew she hadn’t encouraged Alphard in the slightest, and could only hope he had already found Harriet, and that the two of them had made some kind of peace.

Their footsteps echoed softly as they completed Tom’s prefect rounds, checking the remaining classrooms and hallways for any wayward students. The castle had settled into the deep quiet of night, shadows stretching long across the stone floors, and Evelyn felt calm and at peace, happy that she was by Tom’s side.

As they neared the fork leading back to the common room, she glanced at him with a hint of mischief in her eyes. “Do you still want to learn the Patronus charm?”

Tom didn’t hesitate. “I do.”

“Good.” She said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Then I have an idea. There’s an abandoned classroom just off this corridor - empty, quiet, and perfect for practicing without interruptions.”

He raised an eyebrow, a matching spark of amusement in his expression. “Lead the way.”

The abandoned classroom has long since lost its purpose; dust decorated the edges of desks that were shoved against the walls, and chalk crumbled in the tray beneath the board. It was the sort of place that felt forgotten by everyone in the castle except for them.

Evelyn swished her wand, sending the scattered chairs sliding neatly to the edges of the room, then tied her hair into a high ponytail. She rolled the sleeves of her jumper up and turned to face Tom, hands on her hips. Tom couldn’t suppress a small chuckle at how determined she looked.

“It doesn’t look like I’ll be leaving here until I’ve mastered this charm.” He teased, shedding his cloak and rolling up his own sleeves.

Evelyn raised an eyebrow, smirking at him. “Well, don’t expect me to go easy on you just because we’re friends.”

He stepped closer, wand at the ready, eyes glinting with that familiar mix of challenge and mischief. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He tilted his head as he looked at her. “Tell me, how is that you can produce a Patronus? That spell…it’s not trivial.”

Evelyn was caught off guard by his question, and from how quickly he slipped from teasing to serious. She rolled her wand between her fingers for a moment, wondering if she wanted to open up to him or not.

“My aunt insisted that I learn when I was fourteen. She was…convinced it would have saved my parents’ lives if they’d known it. She always said they’d at least have been able to call for help.” Her voice faltered slightly, but she forced a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “She thought if I could do it, that it would make a difference.”

Tom’s dark eyes softened just a fraction, a rare hint of tenderness showing through.

“I see,” He murmured, “practical reasoning. Admirable.”

Evelyn shrugged awkwardly before straightening. “Want to see?” She asked, suddenly feeling a little shy. Tom nodded, trying to hide his anticipation as she took a deep breath.

She uttered the incantation and a brilliant silver fox erupted from the tip of her wand. It was small and elegant, and it bounded around the room playfully, nipping at the edges of Tom’s legs. Tom froze for a moment, taken aback, before he let his features light up with a small but genuine smile.

“Fascinating.” He murmured, squatting down as to better examine it. “It moves with personality.”

Evelyn laughed softly, watching as the fox disappeared in a wisp of smoke. “Clever, playful, a little mischievous…kind of like its caster, I suppose.”

Tom stood back up, his wand slipping into his hand. He cleared his throat, hesitating for a split second before he spoke. “I imagine my magic is not…particularly attuned to such delicate charm work.”

Evelyn had already suspected it might take Tom a little longer than most to master the spell. She imagined that happy, light-hearted moments didn’t come easily to him, and his magical style leaned more toward dark, forceful spells than delicate, luminous charms. Still, if anyone could succeed, she was certain it would be him.

Since that night in the Forbidden Forest, she had been meaning to ask him how he knew such a strong curse. The dark arts were not taught in Hogwarts, and their usage was heavily stigmatised out in the wizarding world, but Evelyn wasn’t sure that was a rabbit hole she was ready to go down.

She ventured cautiously, her voice light. “Is it because of the dark magic you used in the forest?”

Tom’s expression darkened briefly. He ran his fingers along the edge of his wand before assessing her. “It was regrettable. I did not wish for you to witness it. That sort of magic…it’s not something I employ lightly. But in that moment, there was no alternative.”

“I know,” Evelyn said gently, her gaze softening, “I don’t hold it against you. You were protecting us.”

There was a heartbeat of silence where neither looked at each other, and Evelyn cleared her throat and began to speak, her tone brighter.

“The Patronus charm is more about focus and emotion than raw power,” She began to explain, “it took me months to learn it, so don’t be disappointed if nothing happens tonight. We can keep at it. You’re talented enough that I know you’ll get it eventually.”

Evelyn explained the wand movements required for the spell, not surprised in the least when Tom was able to expertly execute it after watching her demonstrate it twice.

“Why am I not surprised? Well done.” Evelyn said warmly. “Alright, let’s start with the basics. You need to think of the happiest memory you have, one that makes you feel alive and safe.”

Tom’s gaze drifted past her, though he could still feel her eyes on him.

Happiest memory…alive and safe.. The words almost felt mocking. He reluctantly searched his mind, flipping through years of carefully curated control, ambition, and restraint - but nothing surfaced that felt light, warm, or safe. Not a single moment he could call purely happy.

“Happiest memory?” He drawled casually, head cocked to the side. “I don’t think I have one worth mentioning.”

Evelyn’s chest tightened briefly. “I find that hard to believe, there must be something. Let’s try it, just let yourself feel it.”

Tom raised his wand with a steadying breath. Happiest memory. He thought. Alive and safe. The words echoed through him like a challenge rather than guidance. His mind ran through faces and events - triangular chessboards of power struggles, moments of triumph and control - but none of them held warmth. None of them sparked anything light enough.

He murmured the incantation, letting the words roll off his tongue with careful enunciation. Nothing. He flourished his wand again perfectly, but still yielded no results.

“Good start,” She said gently, “now let it flow from feeling, not thought. Don’t try to force it.” She smiled encouragingly, squeezing his arm and stepping back to let him try again.

Tom frowned at his lack of success. It’s supposed to be simple, it’s just a memory. He cycled through a few more, but his frustration began to build. It was rare that struggled with spell work - in fact, he genuinely couldn’t remember a time where magic didn’t come to him intuitively.

He gripped his wand tighter, his knuckles turning white as he cursed under his breath. He dragged a hand through his hair, the perfectly brushed strands falling into his eyes.

Why wasn’t it working? He grit his teeth, wand trembling slightly in his hand. He had done everything right; precise movements, exact pronunciation…but still nothing.

Am I missing something? Tom’s mind raced, hunting for some flaw he could correct, or some misstep to blame. It had to be a technique issue, a miscalculation - anything but this gnawing feeling that maybe it wasn’t meant to happen for him.

Why can’t I feel anything? Why is it so impossible? He pictured every memory he had, but each one felt hollow and empty. A hot surge of irritation spread through him, sharp and bitter. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands as if that alone could unravel the frustration knotting inside him.

This is ridiculous. I’ve mastered charms far more complex than this. Why am I failing at something so simple?

“Tom.” Evelyn said his name sweetly, capturing his attention. Her voice cut through the noise in his mind instantly. “It’s not working because you’re tense, and you’re trying to force it. You need to relax.”

He hesitated and exhaled sharply, trying to let go, but the control was a habit he couldn’t shake. He went to run his hand over his face and try the spell again, but Evelyn reached out and gently took his wrists in her hands. He froze, startled by the warmth and casual intimacy of the gesture. Her thumbs pressed softly into his skin, drawing tiny slow circles on his inner wrists.

He found it soothing.

The sensation, so deliberate and familiar, nudged at something buried. Memories surfaced without effort, small, quiet, almost mundane in their quality: a smile, shared laughter, a hand resting on his…warm lips on his. Tom remembered how she’d done this before at Christmas, which felt like a long time ago now. He didn’t pull away.

“Let go. Feel it, not control it. Let the memory fill you, not the spell.” She was barely speaking above a whisper, her voice low and steady as she guided him.

Tom closed his eyes, letting the soft pressure on his wrists stabilise his emotions and his mind. Hesitantly he let himself drift, remembering the three quiet weeks they spent together. The warmth of the firelight, her bright laughter, even the memory of building that ridiculous snowman came back to him. For once, he allowed himself to feel content.

He gently pulled his right hand free and whispered the incantation again, slower this time, letting the memory guide his motion rather than the other way round. A silver light flared; it was faint at first - shy even - like a candle struggling to burn against the wind, but it was there. Tom thought he could see the vague outline of a bird before it dispersed.

Evelyn’s eyes widened, a delighted smile breaking across her face. “Tom! You did it!” She exclaimed softly. She couldn’t believe how well he had done in his first hour. It had taken her weeks to even get a wisp of smoke, and months thereafter to produce a fully corporeal Patronus.

He swallowed, blinking at the warm satisfaction he felt and gratitude towards Evelyn. They spent the next hour like that, Tom practicing again and again under her watchful eyes. Each attempt improved, each flicker of silver more confident and defined until finally, a graceful raven hovered in the air, fully formed and solid.

Evelyn cast her own charm and her fox jumped about, darting back and forth as the raven glided in circles above it, playing back. Evelyn and Tom stood motionless for a minute or two as they watched their Patronuses interact, before they finally melted away, the classroom darkening once their glow had gone.

“You are honestly incredible. It took me months to get to where you’ve reached in two hours! Well done!” Her praise made his chest feel light, and he grinned unabashedly, feeling accomplished in a way he hadn’t in a long time.

She turned to face him, still a little awestruck by the silvery raven that had taken flight from Tom’s wand only moments ago.

“What memory did you use? What finally made the spell work?”

Tom hesitated, a very rare flush working its way up his neck. For a long moment he didn’t meet her eyes, until he finally dragged his gaze back to her.

“It was Christmas.” He said at last, his voice quieter than usual.

“Christmas?” Evelyn repeated gently. “This Christmas we spent together?”

Tom sighed as he rested against the edge of a disused desk, Evelyn following him a few paces behind. “You laughing, opening our presents under the tree…” He trailed off and rolled his eyes. “Even that infernal snowman you made me build…I suppose that did it.” He waved his hand dismissively, unwilling to speak on it more.

Evelyn blushed, her tummy full of so many butterflies that she thought she might take flight herself.

“That’s very sweet, Tom.” She twirled a strand of her around her finger, suddenly shy.

Tom groaned, covering his face for a moment as if he wished he could take the words back.

“Don’t make it sound sentimental.”

“But it is sentimental,” She teased, stepping closer, “you can’t help it.”

He looked up at her then, a spark of amusement returning to his eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

“You love it.” She shot back, smirking. “Every Patronus reflects something about the witch or wizard who conjures it. Want to know what yours means?”

Tom considered this, then nodded once. “Go on, then.”

“Ravens are clever, observant, strategic - always watching before they act. They’re protective, and loyal in their own strange way. They don’t give their trust easily…but once they do, it’s fierce.”

He didn’t speak, but something in his expression changed. He hummed as he mulled her words over - he couldn’t tell if he liked them or not.

Evelyn continued to smile faintly. “It suits you.”

He took a small step toward her without seeming to realise it. “Does it?”

“Mm, perfectly.” Her voice softened, their eyes locking as they stared at each other. The air felt charged with electricity as they stood closer to each other than they had all evening. She smiled at him, bright and open and sweet, her eyes crinkling at the corners from the force of it. Tom reached out, his thumb barely brushing the bottom of her jaw, lingering there as his eyes dropped down to her lips.

“You always look at me like that.” He said, his voice a perfect blend of fondness and curiosity.

“Like what?” Evelyn’s hand came up to gently circle his hand that was still hovering at her face. He didn’t answer, instead letting his hand drop as he gave a small, quiet laugh - a mixture of frustration and disbelief - as he pushed off from the table. He cast tempus and stowed his wand away, clearly signalling it was time for them to head back to the common room.

“If it makes you feel any better, I can’t seem to help it.” She said the words quietly enough, and Tom could have chosen to pretend he hadn’t heard them if he wanted to. Against his better judgement, he chose to squeeze her forearm in response, not trusting himself to speak.

As they walked slowly back to the Slytherin common room, Tom admitted (if only to himself) that some happiness, however fleeting, might be possible.