Readers POV:
You are Eva Orlov, Hogwarts' newest history professor-and you're not alone. Tom Riddle, enigmatic and brilliant, begins his tenure as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. From the moment you meet, an undeniable pull draws you to...
"Eva," he says, his tone sharp yet gentle enough to pull my attention entirely. I turn to face him, momentarily startled by how close he's gotten. His proximity feels deliberate.
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"I've noticed," he begins slowly, as if weighing each word carefully, "that you tend to drift away in these gatherings. You're here, yet not really present. Why is that?"
Caught off guard by the question, I fumble for a response. "I... I'm just not one for crowds," I admit, glancing around the room for some excuse to divert the conversation. But there's no escape. His gaze holds me captive.
"Hmm," he hums thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing just a fraction. "It's not just the crowd, though, is it? You have a habit of distancing yourself from more than just people." He leans in slightly, his voice lowering as if he's sharing a secret. "From the world, from everything around you. It's as if you're... hiding."
Hiding? The word stings, and I bristle at the implication. "I'm not hiding," I say, more defensively than intended. "I'm just... observant."
He raises a brow, his smile never quite reaching his eyes. "Observant? Or perhaps you're searching for something." His voice dips into a soft, coaxing murmur. "Something that eludes you, no matter how hard you try to find it."
I stiffen, unsure of how to respond. Is he toying with me? Or does he somehow know what I can barely admit to myself? Before I can say anything, he continues, his voice weaving a net around me.
"You've struck me as someone seeking answers," he says, almost thoughtfully. "Not the kind found in books or lessons, but something deeper. Something... personal."
My pulse quickens. It's unnerving how he can read me so easily, as though he's sifting through my thoughts. "And what about you, Tom?" I ask, trying to shift the focus away from myself. "What are you searching for?"
His lips twitch into the barest hint of a smile, his dark eyes gleaming with something dangerous, something tantalizing. "Control," he says simply, as if it's the most natural thing in the world. "Of myself, of others, of... everything."
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A chill runs down my spine. "That sounds—" I pause, choosing my words carefully. "—ambitious."
"Ambition is a virtue, Eva," he replies smoothly, his tone never wavering. "But only for those who have the strength to seize it."
