~ Immortality unveiled ~Tom Riddle x Reader ??

****WARNING - Contains scenes that may affect you / all sorts of abuse, vulgar language.****
*UPDATED Sep. 14th.2024*

~Eva's POV - The next morning~

Sunlight spills across my face, warm but unwelcome. My eyes flutter open, heavy with exhaustion. Sleep had been a fickle companion last night, teasing and fleeting, haunted by the image of Tom's face—his dark gaze, the unsettling mystery that seemed to unravel in his presence.

Yesterday, he revealed a side of himself I hadn't seen before. One I wasn't sure I was ready to face. I sit up slowly, running a hand over my forehead.

What is happening between us?

His flaws are so glaring, yet something about him twists my stomach in knots. I can't lose focus. I can't let him distract me from my mission.

The day slips by in a haze of mundane tasks—a reprieve, really. No strange encounters. No cryptic messages or unsettling moments. Just me, alone with my thoughts, folding laundry and cleaning my room. It's something I like to do without magic, though Theodore always found it ridiculous. "Use your wand, Eva. Why exhaust yourself like a Muggle?"
But there's a clarity in the simplicity, a calm that helps order my mind.

Hours pass too quickly. Darkness creeps in after my shower, and the soft hum of nighttime settles around me. I stand at my closet, staring blankly at the rows of clothes, mentally mocking Tom's words from last night: "Make yourself look nice." Nice for what? For him? I sigh, rifling through the hangers, unsure of what to wear, when—

A soft scratching sound interrupts my thoughts. I freeze, squinting toward the window.

What was that?

There it is again. A faint scratch. Slowly, I edge closer, peering into the darkness. Nothing but shadows. My curiosity pushes me forward, and though I know it's reckless, I reach for the window handle.

The window swings open, and a gust of cool wind brushes against my face. A sweet, delicate scent fills the air. Before I can react, a small owl flutters in, perching on the windowsill. Its dark eyes glint with urgency, and in its claws, it holds a letter. My pulse quickens as I untie the parchment from its leg, my fingers trembling. The owl flutters off into the night, leaving me alone with the letter. Unfolding it, my eyes scan the elegant handwriting.

Dear Mrs. Orov Eva,
The Ministry of magic demand your presence.
Tomorrow morning, 8 AM. 
Being late will cost you 150 Galleons.

The words are vague but heavy with importance. A knot tightens in my chest. What could they possibly want from me now? 

Before I can dwell on it, a sharp knock at the door jolts me.
I flinch, hastily setting the letter aside.

I quickly make my way to the door,
"Good evening." Tom's voice is smooth, but his eyes—dark, predatory—scan me from head to toe. "I hope you haven't forgotten our meeting."

Meeting? I blink, pulling the towel tighter around myself.
"No," I manage, shaking my head.
"I thought you would send me the address?"

His gaze lingers on the towel, his lips curving into a half-smirk.
"I expected more preparation than... this."
He steps past me without waiting for permission, placing bags on my bed as if the room belongs to him.

"Excuse me?" I snap, closing the door, irritated by his arrogance.
"What are you doing Professor Riddle?"
  Aha that's right.. I'm repaying you behavior from yesterday.

He points at me with disdain.
"Professor Orlo I am ensuring you wear the right thing. Not that," he gestures to my towel surprisingly amused.

I roll my eyes, sighing in exasperation.
He can be such an ass.
Begrudgingly, I open the bags. My breath catches as I pull out a dress. It's the most elegant thing I've ever seen—simple yet stunning, the fabric flowing like water between my fingers. It must have been so expensive..