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...
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*UPDATED Sep. 14th.2024*
*Eva's POV*
The corridor stretches before us, suffocating and filled with a tension that makes my skin crawl. Tom's grip on my wrist is unyielding, his pace relentless. The cold stone walls close in, their shadows flickering ominously in the dim torchlight. I tug at his hand, frustration bubbling beneath my skin.
"Where are we going?" I demand, my voice sharper than I intend.
Tom's stride doesn't falter. He doesn't even glance back. The silence between us stretches, tightening, until it feels like I can't breathe.
"TOM!" I pull harder, yanking my wrist from his grip, my anger boiling over. "STOP!" My voice echoes down the empty corridor, desperate. "You can't just drag me through this—"
Suddenly, his hand is on my mouth, pinning me to the cold window at my back. His body is close, too close. The heat radiating from him contrasts sharply with the icy glass pressing into my spine. His breath ghosts against my ear, low and dangerous.
"Quiet." His voice is soft, a serpent's hiss that makes the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. "If you don't shut up, people will come, and if they do, I won't be able to show you what I'm about to show you." His words slip under my skin, colder than his touch.
My heart pounds in my chest, a mix of fear, fury, and something far more dangerous, far more unsettling. Slowly, I nod, swallowing the words caught in my throat. He lingers for a moment longer than necessary, his fingers cool against my lips. I force myself to look into his eyes, trying to quell the unsettling feeling growing in the pit of my stomach. He pulls back with deliberate slowness, letting his hand drop.
"Good girl," he says, barely audible, as if he's enjoying this far more than he should.
I shove him away, my pulse racing with anger. "You can't just disappear for weeks and then drag me down these corridors as if—" My words catch in my throat, my frustration building like a storm.
He straightens his cuffs, his smirk cold, dismissive. "Clearly, I can. And I do."
He continues walking, and I fall into step behind him, glaring at the back of his head. His voice is quiet, but there's an edge to it now. "We're both adults, Eva. I would've thought by now you'd understand that our encounters are... brief. Temporary." He turns his head, his eyes catching mine in a way that sends a chill through me. "Unless you want to change that. But if you do... you'll regret it."
The insinuation makes my blood boil, but beneath the anger, something darker stirs. A pull. A need. I shove it down, focusing on the sting of his words instead.
"You said you wanted to share something with me." My voice is sharp, but there's a vulnerability I wish I could hide. "Don't you remember?"
