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Tom Marvolo Riddle
“There is no such thing as destiny, only the will to seize what others are too weak to claim.”

Cordelia Blackwood
“You can’t intimidate me into silence – I’ve stared down worse than your ego and lived to tell the tale.”
 
The Knights of Walpurgis

Abraxas Malfoy
“Elegance and power are not opposites – they are the same thing dressed for different occasions.”

Corvus Lestrange
“Loyalty is earned through devotion, and I do not give mine lightly. Betray me, and you will regret it for the rest of your days.”

Cantankerous Nott
“A sharp tongue and a sharper mind are all a man needs to survive in a world this foolish.”

Wulfric Mulciber
“Brute strength isn’t crude when it gets the job done – it’s efficient.”

Cain Avery
“People may call me cruel, but truthfully, I’m just honest enough to admit I enjoy the chaos.”

Renold Rosier
“Every move in life is a game of strategy. The trick is to ensure that you’re always the one holding the winning piece.”

Orion Black
“Tradition is not a burden; it’s the foundation upon which the world is built. Disrespect it, and you invite collapse.”

Antonin Dolohov
“Power comes to those who are patient enough to wait and ruthless enough to take it when the time is right.”

Quinn Fawley
"Life’s too short to not enjoy the ride. But if you're looking for someone to keep you company on the broomstick, I'm your guy."
 
Cordelia's Best friends

Ivy Ashford
"Plans are nice, but they’re nothing without the people you trust to execute them."

Freya Whitmore
“Magic is everywhere, if only you know how to look.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Prologue

The train to Hogwarts was alive with its usual chaos: friends reuniting after the summer, Prefects barking instructions to first-years, the rhythmic clatter of the wheels against the tracks creating a steady backdrop. Yet for Cordelia Blackwood, the noise barely registered.

She sat in her compartment, fingers curling around the edge of her book, though she hadn’t turned a page in nearly ten minutes. Her gaze flickered to the window, where the countryside blurred into greens and browns. Normally, the start of term filled her with a quiet sort of excitement. But not this year.

This year, Hogwarts felt different. Heavier. And Cordelia had the distinct feeling she wasn’t the only one who felt it.

Myrtle’s death at the end of the previous year had cast a shadow over the school. A terrible accident, they’d said. Some monstrous creature roaming the castle had taken her life, but the Headmaster reassured everyone the culprit had been found. Tom Riddle had been lauded for his bravery in discovering the source of the danger. Even now, whispers of his name carried through the corridors, a mix of admiration and awe.

But to Cordelia, something about the whole story rang hollow.

Tom Riddle had always been a model student: handsome, poised, intelligent, and unfailingly polite. Too perfect. It was the way he never put a foot wrong that made her uneasy. She couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but beneath the polished surface, she sensed something...wrong.

Maybe it was the way he had looked that day in the Great Hall when they announced the school was safe again. Standing among the applause, he had seemed almost detached, as if the praise meant little to him. His expression was calm, his dark eyes steady, but there was something in them—a coldness that didn’t belong to someone so young.
Most people saw Tom as a hero. Cordelia saw a mask.The train jolted slightly, pulling her from her thoughts, and she turned back to her book, though the words still failed to sink in. Being a Prefect came with its share of responsibilities, but the mystery of Myrtle’s death wasn’t something she could ignore. She’d always had a sharp mind, a knack for piecing things together, and the official explanation didn’t sit right with her. Monsters didn’t vanish without a trace. And heroes weren’t supposed to feel...calculated.The door to her compartment slid open suddenly, and she glanced up to see them—a group of Slytherins. They stepped inside with an air of unshakable confidence, their low voices mingling in private jokes. Their presence filled the space, commanding attention without effort, as though the train itself might bow to them.Cordelia didn’t know them personally—at least, not yet—but she recognized their faces. Everyone did. They were the elite of Slytherin House, the ones everyone whispered about when they thought no one was listening. Their reputation preceded them like a shadow.At the front was Abraxas Malfoy, his silver-blonde hair catching the light as he scanned the room with a faint, knowing smirk. Behind him followed Corvus Lestrange, his sharp features set in a near-permanent scowl, and Wulfric Mulciber, his heavy gaze daring anyone to meet it. Cain Avery brought up the rear of the group, his eyes alive with amusement, as though everything and everyone was a private joke he hadn’t decided to share yet.They didn’t spare her more than a cursory glance as they passed through to the next compartment. Dismissive. Like she was furniture.All except for one.Tom.He came last, his steps deliberate, his posture effortlessly commanding. Dark eyes swept over her, catching her gaze for just a heartbeat too long. There was no warmth in them, no curiosity—only a detached, clinical appraisal, like she was something to be cataloged and forgotten.Cordelia shivered.The door slid shut behind them, leaving her in silence once more. Her grip on her book tightened. She’d heard of Tom Riddle, of course. Prefect. Model student. Respected by teachers. Admired by peers. But up close, there was something unsettling about him. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but it was there—a faint hum of wrongness that prickled at the edges of her mind.Who were they? And why did they feel so...dangerous?She shook her head, forcing herself to focus on the words in front of her. It was probably nothing. Just nerves after a long summer. But deep down, a part of her already knew that wasn’t true.For now, she was invisible to him. Another face in the crowd. But something told her it wouldn’t stay that way for long.And when the time came, Cordelia knew she’d have to tread carefully. Because if she was right about him—and she was rarely wrong—Tom Riddle wasn’t just dangerous.He was the storm waiting on the horizon.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Chapter 1
Cordelia Blackwood sat in the train compartment, her legs tucked up beneath her as she flipped through Hogwarts: A Chronicle of Its Founders and Forgotten Secrets. The book, with its aged cover and faint scent of parchment, was filled with accounts of the castle's origins, its hidden chambers, and the peculiar spells tied to its very walls. She’d read it before—more than once, in fact—but each time she found something new to fascinate her. As the countryside blurred past the window, the steady rhythm of the train seemed to echo the turning of the pages. Outside, the countryside blurred past, fields giving way to hills as the Hogwarts Express carried its passengers back to school.
The door to the compartment slid open, and Ivy Ashford’s cheerful face appeared. “I knew you’d be here already, buried in a book,” she teased as she stepped inside, dragging her trunk. Behind her came Freya Withmore, looking as effortlessly composed as always, her red curls pinned back in an elegant twist. “Some things never change,” Freya said with a sly smile as she plopped down across from Cordelia. “You spent the entire summer reading, didn’t you?”  Cordelia smirked, marking her place in the book. “And what did you two spend your summer doing? Being unproductive?”  Ivy gasped dramatically as she settled into the seat beside her. “Excuse me, I’ll have you know I did loads of productive things. I made that gorgeous herbology planner for you, didn’t I?” Freya laughed. “And I went to the south of France, where I did exactly nothing, thank you very much.” They launched into an easy back-and-forth about their holidays, Cordelia listening with a small smile. It was a comfort, being back with her best friends, their banter as natural as breathing. But her thoughts were also occupied with the upcoming term. “I still can’t believe you’re a Prefect,” Ivy said suddenly, nudging Cordelia. “That makes two of you in the same compartment. Freya next, maybe?” “Not a chance,” Freya replied breezily. “I don’t have the patience to babysit anyone, let alone an entire house.” Cordelia laughed softly, but Ivy’s comment brought her upcoming meeting to mind. “Speaking of Prefects, I should probably get to the meeting,” she said, standing and smoothing her skirt.“Have fun,” Ivy said brightly. “Don’t let the Slytherins walk all over you.” “Easier said than done,” Cordelia muttered as she left the compartment. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The Prefect’s meeting was being held in one of the empty compartments, and Cordelia quickly made her way there, still running the words her friends had said over in her head. The responsibility of being a Prefect was daunting, but Cordelia had always risen to challenges. As she entered, she spotted the other Ravenclaw Prefect, Thaddeus Selwyn, who was already talking with a few students. Cordelia walked over, offering a friendly smile. "Hey, Thaddeus," she greeted him. "How’s it going?" Thaddeus smiled back, his blue eyes gleaming. “Hey, Cordelia! Not much, just the usual. How’s the summer been?” Cordelia shrugged. “Quiet. Not much to report.” As more students trickled in, the door opened, and the Head Boy and Girl entered. Both were from Slytherin and Ravenclaw, respectively. Cordelia’s eyes flicked toward them, noting their confident air."Welcome back, everyone," said the Head Boy, a tall, handsome Slytherin named Septimus Travers. His voice rang out with authority. "This year will be slightly different. We’ll be working with other houses on patrol duties, so you’ll be paired with someone from a different house." There were a few murmurs of surprise, but Cordelia only half-listened, her thoughts elsewhere. She didn't expect much from the pairing announcement, until— "And," Septimus continued, glancing at Cordelia with a hint of a smirk, "Ravenclaw and Slytherin will be paired together this year. That means Cordelia Blackwood and Tom Riddle." Cordelia froze at the mention of Tom’s name. A cold shiver ran down her spine as her eyes sought him out across the room. There he sat, tall and imposing at the back, his dark hair styled perfectly. His gaze met hers, and for a moment, there was no denying the intensity of his stare. His eyes were like ice, unreadable, but there was something there—a challenge, perhaps, or a spark of recognition.She quickly looked away, heart hammering in her chest. "Great," she muttered to herself, the weight of the assignment settling on her shoulders. "Just what I needed." ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ After the Prefect meeting, Cordelia made her way back through the corridors of the train. Her mind was still occupied with the awkward weight of her pairing with Tom Riddle. The way he had looked at her during the meeting—a cold, calculating stare—stirred a mix of unease and irritation within her. She couldn’t decide whether he saw her as a rival, a pawn, or something else entirely. Either way, she didn’t like it. As she moved further down the train, the sound of loud laughter spilled out from a compartment just ahead. Cordelia slowed her pace, glancing sideways into the compartment as she passed. Inside were Abraxas Malfoy, Corvus Lestrange, and Cantankerous Nott, each lounging in their seats as though they were holding court. Cordelia had seen this scene many times before: the so-called Slytherin elite in their natural habitat, acting as if the train—and Hogwarts itself—were theirs to command. It wasn’t just their wealth or bloodlines that set them apart; it was their air of entitlement, their belief that they were destined for something greater. “What’s this? A Ravenclaw gracing us with her presence?” drawled Abraxas, leaning back in his seat with an air of practiced disinterest. His tone was light, but his eyes gleamed with the sort of calculated malice that came so easily to him. Corvus Lestrange gave a low chuckle from his corner, his fingers absently tracing the spine of a leather-bound book. “Perhaps she’s lost. Ravenclaws do have their heads in the clouds, after all.” “Or maybe she just wanted a closer look at greatness,” added Nott, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’d stare too if I had to sit with those dull little birds all day.” Cordelia came to an abrupt stop, turning on her heel to face them. “You flatter yourselves,” she said sharply, her chin lifting slightly. “I was just wondering how much of the train you Slytherins planned to take over this year.” Her words hung in the air for a moment, and then Quinn Fawley, who had been lounging silently in the corner, let out a short laugh. “She’s got some fire,” he said, grinning. “Careful, Blackwood.Malfoy here might start thinking you’re trying to impress him.” The group laughed again, a ripple of sound that grated on Cordelia’s nerves. She tightened her grip on the strap of her bag and turned back toward her compartment without another word, her footsteps quick and deliberate. “See you at the feast!” Abraxas called after her, his voice smooth and mocking. As Cordelia moved further away, the laughter from their compartment followed her, but she forced herself to tune it out. Just boys, she told herself firmly. Arrogant, spoiled boys. She had more important things to focus on—like surviving a year with Tom Riddle as her patrol partner. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ As the trio approached the last Threstral-drawn carriage, the cold night air brushed against Cordelia’s skin. Ivy groaned softly, spotting who was already inside. “Of course,” she muttered under her breath. “Why is it always them?” Inside the carriage sat Abraxas Malfoy, Corvus Lestrange, Cantankerous Nott, and Quinn Fawley—the so-called Slytherin royalty. They were lounging as though they owned not just the carriage but the very ground it stood on. “We could wait for another one,” Ivy suggested, glancing around, though they all knew there wasn’t another option. “And miss the feast?” Freaya raised an eyebrow and strode forward, her cherry colored curls bouncing with each step. “I’m not standing in this mud any longer.” Cordelia sighed and followed, Ivy trailing reluctantly behind. As they reached the carriage, Quinn leaned out slightly, a grin already forming. “Ah, Ravenclaws. Don’t be shy; there’s room enough for everyone.” “Don’t let us impose,” Cordelia said coolly, brushing past him to climb into the carriage. “Impose?” Abraxas drawled, his sharp gray eyes flicking over her. “I’m not sure you lot could manage that if you tried.”Cordelia slid in after Freya, settling into the seat across from the boys with a dramatic sigh. “Well, this is cozy,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Ivy climbed in last, giving the boys a small, nervous smile before sitting beside Freya. The tension was palpable as the Threstals gave a soft snort and the carriage lurched forward, beginning the slow journey to the castle. The girls settled into their seats, with Fraya and Ivy on one side and Cordelia across from them, wedged between Fawley and Nott. The space felt too small for the weight of the egos inside it. “So,” Quinn began, stretching his legs out in an exaggerated fashion, “tell us, how does it feel to ride with greatness?” “Greatness?” Cordelia asked, arching an eyebrow. “I must have missed it on the way in.” Freya snorted, earning her a sharp glance from Corvus, who had finally turned away from the window. His dark eyes settled on Cordelia, scrutinizing her as though trying to decipher some hidden meaning behind her words. “You talk a lot for someone sitting in our carriage,” Abraxas said smoothly, his tone polite but unmistakably condescending.“And you sit a lot for someone who thinks they’re above everyone else,” Cordelia shot back, her tone light yet pointed. “Touché,” Quinn murmured, grinning as he leaned back. “I like her.” ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The boys exchanged looks, and for a moment, the tension shifted. Quinn laughed, a warm, rich sound that felt strangely out of place. “I like her,” he declared, nudging Abraxas with his elbow. “Careful,” Abraxas said, his smirk growing. “That one bites.” Ivy shifted uncomfortably, her gaze flicking between them. “It’s nice to see you all in such... high spirits,” she offered hesitantly, clearly trying to diffuse the tension. Abraxas barely acknowledged her comment, but Quinn shot her a dazzling smile. “Oh, we’re always like this,” he said easily. “Isn’t that right, Corvus?”Corvus made a noncommittal noise, his eyes still fixed on Cordelia. She refused to look away, meeting his gaze head-on. Freya, clearly bored of the boys’ posturing, peered out of the carriage window. “You know,” she said, her voice deliberately light, “Threstals are fascinating creatures. I read they can sense when someone’s about to meet an untimely end.” “Is that so?” Abraxas asked, his tone feigning interest. “Should we be worried about your survival this year, Withmore?” “Not mine,” Freya replied sweetly. “Though it’s always the ones who think they’re untouchable who go first.” “Charming,” Corvus muttered, though there was a flicker of amusement in his otherwise stoic expression. Quinn leaned forward slightly, his tone conspiratorial. “Tell me, Withmore, do Ravenclaws always come equipped with such sharp tongues, or is that just a you-and-Blackwood thing?” “Depends on how much nonsense we’re forced to listen to,” Cordelia replied without missing a beat. The carriage hit a small bump, jolting everyone slightly. Ivy gave a nervous laugh, gripping the edge of the seat. The castle loomed into view, its towers illuminated against the night sky. The sight never failed to stir something in Cordelia, a mix of awe and comfort. As the carriage came to a stop, the boys climbed out first, Quinn offering a mock bow to the girls. “Ladies first,” he said with a flourish. “Finally, some manners,” Freya quipped as she stepped down. “Don’t get used to it,” Abraxas muttered, brushing off his robes. Cordelia lingered for a moment, her gaze flicking to Corvus, who was watching her again with that unreadable expression. She raised an eyebrow, refusing to let him think he’d unnerved her, before following her friends toward the castle. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The ground seemed to vibrate beneath their feet as the students walked across the castle grounds, the silhouette of Hogwarts growing larger with every step. Cordelia couldn’t shake the sense of anticipation that clung to the air, as if the very stones beneath her were holding their breath. There was something about this night — something different, something that made the usual magic of arriving at school feel heavier. She tried to ignore the feeling, but it lingered like a faint scent that wouldn’t leave. The boys from the carriage were still following behind them, their voices growing louder, filled with the same banter from before. Abraxas Malfoy’s low chuckle cut through the air as he and Corvus exchanged a private joke. Quinn, always the loudest, was telling Freya some story about a ridiculous Quidditch match over the summer, punctuating his words with wild hand gestures. “Can’t believe you still haven’t learned to fly properly,” he teased, directing his words at Nott, who was walking slightly behind them. Nott grunted in response, rolling his eyes. “For the last time, Fawley, I don’t care about Quidditch.” “Too bad,” Quinn shot back, “because it seems like the only thing we’re good for in Slytherin these days is Quidditch. But hey, we’ve got the best team.” His grin was all teeth. “Not exactly a well-kept secret,” Cordelia muttered, half to herself. But of course, the boys overheard. “Oh, she speaks,” Quinn said with mock surprise. “I thought we might’ve scared you into silence, Blackwood.” “I’m not easily scared,” Cordelia replied, her tone as sharp as ever. She glanced over her shoulder at him, meeting his mischievous blue eyes for just a moment. His grin only widened. “Are you sure about that?” Abraxas interjected coolly. His gaze flickered briefly to Ivy before landing back on Cordelia. “Some things are more... intimidating than they seem.” Ivy gave him a quick, uncertain glance. “Not everyone is as intimidating as you’d like to think, Malfoy,” she said softly. Freyas’s voice cut through the moment, a hint of annoyance in her tone. “Honestly, do you think you can stop posturing for two minutes? Some of us still have to make it to the feast without losing our appetites.” A brief silence followed, as if the boys were actually considering the notion. But it was only for a moment before they resumed their earlier pace, still chuckling amongst themselves.Despite the jokes and banter, Cordelia couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was simmering beneath the surface. She kept her gaze straight ahead, but a small part of her couldn’t help but wonder just what the Slytherins were up to — particularly Corvus, who hadn’t looked away from her since they left the carriage. They approached the grand doors of the castle, the towering structure now completely silhouetted against the darkening sky. The air felt colder here, the chill from the mountains creeping through the grounds and making the torches flicker as they passed. Cordelia hugged her arms a little tighter around herself, not from the cold, but from an uneasy sensation that had settled in her stomach. Freya, seemingly oblivious to the tension, was speaking animatedly with Ivy. “I heard the headmaster has some big announcement this year, something about new magical advancements, or maybe a new professor — maybe something to do with creatures.” “Maybe they’re just trying to spice up the curriculum,” Ivy replied dryly, glancing up at the castle with an uncertain look on her face. Cordelia wasn’t listening anymore. She was too focused on the castle itself, the great spires rising up into the night. The castle, with its towering walls and ancient stone, always felt like a place that could swallow you whole, full of secrets and hidden places. It had a strange comfort to it, yes, but also a coldness that made her feel small, despite how large the halls were. She wasn’t sure she was ready for what lay ahead this year, but there was no turning back now. As they crossed the threshold into the hall, the Great Hall opened up before them. It was alive with students, the sound of chatter and laughter filling the air. The long tables were already filled with students catching up, and Cordelia spotted a few familiar faces. Vera Everleigh, the Head Girl, was talking with a group of Ravenclaws near the front, her sharp eyes glancing over them for a brief second as they entered. At the opposite end of the hall, she could see Septimus Travers, the Head Boy, standing with some of his fellow Slytherins, his usual cold expression on his face. But it wasn’t the students she noticed first. It was the presence of the Slytherins sitting at their table. Abraxas Malfoy was sitting at the head of the table, as expected, his posture regal and his eyes scanning the room with quiet calculation. Beside him, Corvus Lestrange looked every bit as intense as ever, his gaze flickering between the others, but landing, inevitably, on Cordelia. Cordelia couldn’t help but feel the pull of his stare, the same way she had felt it in the carriage earlier. It wasn’t a friendly gaze — more like an assessment. It made her uneasy, but she kept her chin high, refusing to let it show.Quinn, sitting further down the table, caught her eye and gave a casual, almost teasing wink. His charm felt effortless, even in the midst of the tension that seemed to radiate from the Slytherin table. She almost wished he wouldn’t make it so hard to ignore him. “I swear, every year this place gets more crowded,” Freya muttered, her voice breaking through the moment. “Where’s a good seat when you need one?” “Right here,” Ivy said, slipping into a seat near the center of the Ravenclaw table. Cordelia followed suit, though her mind was still half on the Slytherins. Abraxas, Corvus, Quinn — their presence was almost oppressive, and it was difficult to ignore them. The Sorting Ceremony began soon after, drawing everyone’s attention. Cordelia sat back, trying to focus on the first years lining up to be sorted. But it wasn’t long before she found herself distracted again, her eyes once more drawn to the Slytherin table. Tom Riddle was still nowhere in sight, but somehow, his absence felt just as heavy as his presence would have. And Cordelia couldn’t shake the thought that this year would bring more than just classes and homework. There was something far more dangerous brewing beneath the surface — something that had the potential to change everything.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Chapter 2

The beginning of the school term felt like the calm before a storm, though Cordelia couldn’t say why. Even the crisp air of the Ravenclaw Tower seemed heavy with something unsaid, as if the castle itself were holding its breath.
Unbeknownst to her, in a chamber hidden within the castle’s shifting walls, Tom Riddle stood at the head of a long table, his expression calm and calculating, though his mood was anything but. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧

Tom’s POV

The Room of Requirement had shaped itself into a somber hall for their meeting, its walls adorned with faded banners of Slytherin green. The table before Tom was lined with his most loyal followers: Abraxas Malfoy, Corvus Lestrange, Cantankerous Nott, Quinn Fawley, Cain Avery, Antonin Dolohov, Wulfric Mulciber, and Orion Black. They sat in a loose semi-circle, some more at ease than others.Quinn Fawley, however, was far from comfortable.Tom’s wand was trained on him, the tip glowing faintly with ominous energy. “You had the entire summer,” Tom said, his voice soft but deadly. “Three months, Fawley. And yet you return with nothing.”Quinn, on his knees before him, grimaced as he clutched his side where Tom’s previous curse had landed. “I tried,” he said, his usual flippant tone replaced with raw desperation. “The Gaunt family’s history is practically a dead end! Every trail I followed—”“Excuses,” Tom interrupted sharply.The room held its collective breath as Tom raised his wand again. “Crucio.”It scared the others how calm he could just use an unforgivable curse like it was nothing.Quinn screamed, his body convulsing under the force of the curse. Abraxas and Orion exchanged uneasy glances, but neither dared intervene. Tom held the curse for several long seconds before lowering his wand, his expression unchanging as Quinn collapsed in a heap.“You were tasked with finding the locket,” Tom continued, his tone icy. “A relic of Salazar Slytherin himself. Its importance cannot be overstated. And yet here you are—empty-handed.”Quinn groaned, forcing himself onto his hands and knees. “I won’t fail again,” he croaked.“You won’t,” Tom said simply, his gaze sweeping over the others. “Because next time, failure will not be tolerated.”The room was silent, the weight of his words pressing down on them all. Tom’s temper burned beneath his otherwise controlled demeanor. Months of planning, wasted.Straightening his robes, he turned on his heel, heading for the door. “I have a patrol to attend,” he said over his shoulder, his voice clipped. “The rest of you, see to it that Fawley is fit for his next task. I have no use for broken tools.”The door slammed shut behind him, leaving the Knights to exchange wary glances.Quinn leaned back against the table, wiping sweat from his brow. “Bloody hell,” he muttered. “He’s getting nastier by the day.”Abraxas smirked, pulling out a flask from his robes and tossing it to him. “Here. Try not to die before the next meeting.”“Cheers, mate,” Quinn said, taking a long swig before passing it to Orion.Cain Avery snorted. “You’re lucky he didn’t turn you into a bloody toad.”“Lucky?!” Quinn shot him a mock glare. “Remind me to hex you next time I’m the one on the floor.”Corvus, who had been watching quietly, finally spoke. “You’re still alive. That’s more than most can say after disappointing him.”“Reassuring,” Quinn muttered, though his grin returned as Mulciber clapped him on the shoulder.The tension eased slightly as they fell into easy camaraderie, their bond forged in fire—and curses. But beneath their laughter lingered an unspoken truth: Tom Riddle demanded perfection, and anything less was met with pain. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧

Cordelia’s POV

The patrol started quietly. Too quietly. Tom’s polished shoes echoed against the stone floors as he moved with purpose, his wand tucked neatly into his robes. Cordelia trailed beside him, her steps quieter, though her sharp tongue was anything but subdued.“You must enjoy this,” she said, her voice light but pointed. “Stalking the hallways like a brooding specter. Very mysterious. Very... Riddle.”Tom’s jaw tightened, though his face betrayed nothing. “And you must enjoy filling the silence with inane chatter. It suits you, Blackwood.”She smirked, unfazed by the barb. “Funny. You didn’t strike me as someone who’d shy away from conversation. Or are you afraid I might uncover one of your many secrets?”His stride faltered, if only for a fraction of a second. “Secrets?” he repeated, his voice low and deliberate.Cordelia tilted her head, emboldened. “Oh, come on. You reek of them. You think people don’t notice the way you always hover just out of reach? Or how you manipulate everyone around you without lifting a finger?”Tom stopped walking, turning to face her fully. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes gleamed with something darker, something alive. “You think you know me?”“Not yet,” she said, stepping closer, her chin lifting defiantly. “But I will.”It happened so fast, Cordelia barely registered the movement. One moment, she was standing her ground; the next, her back hit the cold stone wall, and Tom’s hand was around her neck, pinning her in place.The air rushed from her lungs as her fingers instinctively clawed at his wrist, but his grip was like iron. His face was inches from hers, his breath cold against her skin. For the first time, Cordelia saw the mask slip.Tom Riddle’s carefully crafted composure cracked, revealing something raw, dangerous, and utterly inhuman. His eyes burned, their usual cold gray flecked with crimson, and his lips curled into a snarl. “You’re meddling in things you don’t understand,” he hissed, his voice venomous.Cordelia’s heart pounded, fear creeping in despite her determination to stay calm. “You’re... hurting me,” she managed, her voice strained but defiant.Tom blinked, as though suddenly realizing what he was doing. His grip loosened, and he stepped back, his expression smoothing into its usual impassive mask. “You should be more careful, Blackwood,” he said evenly, though his voice still carried an edge. “Some things are better left alone.”Cordelia leaned against the wall, catching her breath as he strode away without another word. She touched her neck, wincing at the tenderness there.For the first time, she was genuinely afraid—not of Tom’s strength, but of how effortlessly he concealed the monster lurking beneath. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The next morning, Cordelia stood in front of her dormitory mirror, her breath catching as she tilted her head to inspect the damage. Dark bruises in the unmistakable shape of fingers marred her pale skin, their purple edges creeping out like shadows beneath her jaw. She gingerly touched the sore spots, flinching at the pain.Her stomach churned. She could still feel the phantom pressure of his grip, the raw heat of his anger. The memory of his eyes—so cold and calculating, yet burning with a terrifying intensity—sent a shiver down her spine. How had she underestimated him so badly?Cordelia’s mind raced. She knew she needed to tell someone, anyone, but the thought of admitting that Tom Riddle had gotten to her, that he’d made her afraid, was unbearable. If she told Ivy or Elara, they’d see it as a reason to worry, to meddle. And meddling in Tom Riddle’s affairs wasn’t just reckless—it was dangerous.“Cordelia, we’re going to be late!” Ivy’s voice cut through her thoughts from the other side of the door, sharp and impatient.“I’m coming!” Cordelia called back, though her voice wavered. She hastily pulled up her collar to cover the bruises, adjusting it until only the faintest edge of discoloration was visible. Smoothing her hair, she forced herself to take a steadying breath. She needed to compose herself.But as she stared at her reflection, she couldn’t shake the image of herself pinned against the cold stone wall, her strength no match for his. There was a vulnerability in her gaze now, one she barely recognized.She set her jaw. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d shaken her. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The Great Hall buzzed with its usual morning energy, the clatter of plates and the hum of conversation filling the air. Cordelia slipped into her usual seat at the Ravenclaw table, forcing a small smile as Ivy and Freya greeted her.“You look like you barely slept,” Ivy said, her brow furrowing.Cordelia waved a dismissive hand, reaching for a piece of toast. “I stayed up reading. It’s nothing.”“Nothing?” Freya leaned closer, narrowing her eyes. “You’re pale as a ghost. And you’re barely touching your food, which is honestly the most concerning thing about this.”Cordelia rolled her eyes, mustering as much of her usual sarcasm as she could. “Honestly, Freya, you should’ve been a Healer with all that hovering.”Freya didn’t laugh. Neither did Ivy, whose sharp gaze lingered on Cordelia’s collar. “You’re wearing that shirt pretty high up,” she said casually, but her tone betrayed her suspicion.“It’s chilly,” Cordelia said quickly, grabbing her cup of tea and taking a deliberate sip to avoid further questions.The two girls exchanged a look.“Cordelia,” Ivy said gently, her voice lowering. “If something’s wrong, you can tell us.”“There’s nothing wrong,” Cordelia snapped, a little harsher than she intended. The words hung in the air for a moment, and she sighed, softening her tone. “I’m fine. Really. Just tired.”Neither of them looked convinced, but they didn’t press further. Freya sighed dramatically and reached for the marmalade, muttering something about how Cordelia was as stubborn as a mountain troll. Ivy, however, watched her carefully, her hazel eyes filled with quiet concern.Cordelia tried to focus on her breakfast, but her appetite was gone. She felt their worry pressing down on her like a weight, and she hated herself for keeping them in the dark. But what could she say? That she’d provoked Tom Riddle, and he’d shown her just how easily he could hurt her if he wanted to?As the Hall filled with more students, Cordelia’s attention wandered, her eyes instinctively flicking toward the Slytherin table. Tom sat at the center, flanked by his usual entourage. His expression was serene, the perfect picture of composure, as he spoke with Abraxas and Corvus.But for just a moment, his gaze shifted. Their eyes met across the hall.
Cordelia’s blood ran cold. There was no smirk, no acknowledgment—just a brief, piercing glance that made her feel as though he could see straight through her. Then he looked away, his face as unreadable as ever.She swallowed hard, gripping her teacup tightly. If Tom noticed the bruises he’d left on her, he didn’t show it.But Cordelia couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ Potions class was anything but a reprieve for Cordelia. As the students filed in, Professor Slughorn clapped his hands together with a jovial grin.“Today, my talented young brewers, we tackle the Wit-Sharpening Potion! A delightful concoction to clear the mind and enhance focus. Perfect for exams—or those especially stubborn puzzles life throws our way!” His gaze landed squarely on Cordelia, his eyes twinkling. “Miss Blackwood, I expect you’ll excel at this one. You do have quite the knack for clarity of thought.”Cordelia forced a polite smile, but inwardly groaned. The last thing she wanted today was attention. Her neck still ached, the bruises hidden beneath a carefully buttoned collar, and her mind raced with half-formed plans to avoid Tom’s gaze.“Partner up!” Slughorn continued, gesturing to the shelves of ingredients. “Today’s potion requires precise teamwork, so choose wisely!”Before Cordelia could even glance toward Ivy or Freya for reprieve, Lucinda Flint, the other Slytherin prefect, slid into the seat beside her with an elegant smirk.“Looks like it’s you and me today, Blackwood,” Lucinda drawled, her voice silky. “Let’s see if Ravenclaw wit lives up to its reputation.”Cordelia suppressed a sigh. Of course.Lucinda was effortlessly beautiful, with her glossy black hair cascading in soft waves and her emerald-green eyes gleaming with a knowing arrogance. Her presence always seemed to fill a room, commanding attention without asking for it. She thrived on control—and today, Cordelia suspected, was no ex-ception.“Let’s just focus on the potion,” Cordelia replied evenly, pulling her textbook closer.They worked in tense silence at first, carefully measuring powdered scarab beetles and shredded ginger root. But it wasn’t long before Lucinda broke the quiet.“Not bad, Blackwood,” she said, tilting her head as she added a pinch of armadillo bile to the cauldron. “But you’re stirring a little too quickly. You don’t want to curdle the mix, do you?”Cordelia’s hand paused mid-stir, her jaw tightening. “I know how to stir a potion, thanks.”Lucinda smirked, leaning closer. “Oh, I’m sure you do. Just thought I’d offer a helping hand. Can’t have you showing up the rest of us, can we?”The banter might have ended there, but Cordelia noticed Lucinda’s gaze flicker—not at her, but past her, toward the far side of the room where Tom Riddle worked alone at his station. His movements were precise, almost hypnotic, as he poured liquid asphodel into his cauldron.Cordelia resisted the urge to look. She didn’t need to. She could feel the weight of his attention like a storm cloud gathering overhead.Lucinda’s smirk shifted into something sharper, her emerald eyes narrowing ever so slightly as she turned back to the cauldron. “You know,” she said, her voice suddenly lower, more deliberate, “Tom’s been... distracted lately. It’s unlike him.”Cordelia didn’t rise to the bait. She focused on slicing her ginger root as evenly as possible.“But then again,” Lucinda continued, her tone laced with sweet venom, “he does have a lot on his plate. Responsibilities, expectations... people to deal with.”Cordelia finally looked up, meeting Lucinda’s gaze head-on. “If you have something to say, Flint, just say it.”Lucinda’s smile was infuriatingly slow, like a cat playing with its prey. “I’m just saying it’s interesting, that’s all. He doesn’t usually let things—or people—distract him.”Cordelia’s chest tightened. She couldn’t let Lucinda see she’d struck a nerve. “Maybe you should focus on your stirring,” she said coolly. “Wouldn’t want to ruin the potion.”Lucinda gave a soft laugh but said nothing more.The rest of the class passed in strained silence, but Cordelia couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Every time she glanced up, she caught the barest flicker of movement from Tom’s station, as though he were keeping tabs on her without ever looking directly at her.Lucinda noticed, too. Cordelia could tell by the way her posture stiffened, her polished façade slipping for just a moment before she recovered.As they packed up their ingredients at the end of the lesson, Lucinda leaned in close, her voice barely a whisper. “Careful, Blackwood. Tom doesn’t like loose ends.”Before Cordelia could respond, Lucinda swept away, her robes billowing behind her.Across the room, Tom glanced up briefly, his dark eyes meeting Cordelia’s. There was no smile, no acknowledgment—just an unreadable look that sent a chill through her.
Cordelia left the classroom with her heart pounding. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧The room was dimly lit, its shadows clinging to the stone walls, the only sound the soft rustle of robes as the Knights of Walpurgis gathered around a long, carved table. Tom Riddle stood at the head, his posture rigid, his gaze sharp as it swept over his followers. They were his inner circle, the ones he trusted, but that trust did little to alleviate the tension that crackled in the air.Abraxas Malfoy sat back in his chair with a leisurely grace, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest, his eyes flickering with quiet amusement. Corvus Lestrange sat beside him, impassive and silent, his dark eyes like a weight on the room. Cantankerous Nott leaned forward, his arms crossed, his face a mask of concentration. Quinn Fawley stood by the fireplace, his posture relaxed, though his gaze darted to Tom every few seconds. Cain Avery, Antonin Dolohov, Wulfric Mulciber, and Orion Black filled the remaining seats.Tom’s voice, low and calculated, sliced through the silence. “There is a complication.”The others shifted in their seats, the words hanging in the air like a storm cloud waiting to break.Tom’s cold, unyielding gaze fixed on them all. “Cordelia Blackwood has become... problematic.”A collective pause.Abraxas, ever the cynic, raised an eyebrow, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “Problematic how?”Tom’s jaw tightened, his words clipped. “She’s curious. Too curious.”There was an edge of frustration in his voice, a rare crack in the mask of control he always wore.“She’s prying into things that do not concern her,” Tom continued, his fingers brushing over the table’s surface, his eyes dark with the weight of his thoughts.
Quinn Fawley, never one to pass up an opportunity for jest, leaned against the wall with a casual smirk. “She sounds fun.”“Fun is not the word I would use,” Tom retorted, his gaze hardening as it snapped to Quinn. “She’s more of a nuisance, actually. A distraction.”Corvus Lestrange’s voice cut through the tension, calm but dangerous. “What do you want us to do about it?”Tom’s lips curled into a cold, thin smile. He was a predator—calculating, unyielding, always in control. “One of you will keep a close watch on her.” He paused, letting the words hang in the air. “I don’t care how you do it. Befriend her, seduce her—whatever it takes. But I want to know her every move.”The room grew still, and the tension ratcheted up. Everyone knew Tom was capable of anything, but to send one of them after Blackwood was something new.
Abraxas tilted his head, the amusement still present in his eyes. “You’re giving us carte blanche to deal with her however we wish?”Tom’s gaze flashed to him. “I don’t care how it’s done. I want it done.”A small chuckle escaped from Quinn’s lips. “I’m sure you’ll do just fine, Abraxas. She’s quite a handful, isn’t she?”Abraxas gave Quinn a look that could’ve frozen water. “I’m not the one with an apparent fondness for playing with Ravenclaws,” he said sharply.“Careful, Abraxas,” Quinn teased, his smirk widening. “You’ll get jealous if you’re not careful.”Abraxas’s lips curled into a smile that was cold, dangerous. “I’ll keep that in mind, Quinn. But don’t let your mouth get ahead of your brain. Unless, of course, it’s that kind of game you want to play.”Quinn’s smirk faltered for a second, his eyes narrowing, though the challenge was still there. “You’re a twisted one, Abraxas.”Abraxas shrugged nonchalantly. “You know me. I prefer my games with a little more... bite.”Antonin Dolohov chuckled darkly from the end of the table. “It’s a shame the two of you can’t get along. You’d make a fine pair.” His tone was mocking, but there was an underlying challenge in his words.Tom’s eyes flicked from one face to another, his patience thinning. “Enough.” His voice was a whip crack of finality.The room quieted immediately, the playful teasing dying under the weight of his authority.Tom’s gaze swept back to Abraxas. “You’ll handle this,” he said, his voice as cold and final as ever.Abraxas inclined his head, his smirk never faltering. “Consider it done.”“Good,” Tom murmured, the faintest trace of satisfaction in his voice. He took a moment, meeting the eyes of each of the Knights. “And remember, no mistakes. If she gets any closer to the truth than she already has, we all lose.”The others nodded in agreement, but there was a flicker of unease in their eyes. The task Tom had set before them was not a simple one. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The next day, Abraxas Malfoy made his way into the library with a lazy grace, as though he belonged there just as much as the dust-ridden books and creaking shelves. Cordelia noticed him immediately, but chose to ignore him, keeping her nose buried in her textbook as she scanned the same paragraph for the third time, trying to force her thoughts back to her research.After a moment, Abraxas appeared at her table, leaning casually against it with a cocky smile that told her he already knew how unimpressed she was."Don’t you have somewhere better to be, Malfoy?" she asked, her tone sharp as she turned a page without looking up.Abraxas chuckled, unbothered. "Is that any way to treat your future husband, Blackwood?" he drawled, pushing a strand of silvery-blonde hair from his forehead.Cordelia closed her book with a snap, raising an eyebrow as she met his gaze. "You wish," she retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm.Abraxas’s smile grew wider, almost mischievous. "I’m just trying to be a gentleman," he said, lifting his hands in mock innocence. "You could at least appreciate the effort."She rolled her eyes, refusing to be charmed. "I’d appreciate it more if you spent less time pretending to be someone you’re not."Abraxas’s eyes glinted with amusement, though she detected a hint of something deeper beneath his cool facade. "And what if I told you, Blackwood, that I’m perfectly comfortable pretending?" he said, leaning in just a little closer, his gaze intense.Cordelia met his gaze evenly, refusing to back down. "Then I’d say you’re wasting your time."He laughed again, as though she were saying something entirely unexpected. "You know, you’re not quite like the others," he remarked, as if studying her expression for some hidden reaction. "Most girls would be fluttering their eyelashes by now, hanging on my every word.""And most girls would be foolish enough to fall for your nonsense," she shot back, slamming her book closed with a loud thud.Abraxas stepped back, holding up his hands as though in defeat. "Touché, Blackwood. I’ll give you that one. But you can’t deny there’s something... intriguing about me, can you?"Cordelia didn’t hesitate. "Not even a little bit," she declared, forcing herself to keep her voice steady despite the strange twist of nerves in her chest.Abraxas raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "You’ll change your mind eventually. I’m a patient man.""Or you could save yourself the trouble and find someone else to bother," she replied, gathering her things and rising from the table.Abraxas watched her with that same calculating look, as though trying to figure her out. "Where are you going, Blackwood? Scared I’ll follow you?" he teased, but there was an edge of seriousness in his tone.
Cordelia met his gaze, unflinching. "I’m not afraid of you, Malfoy. I just have better things to do with my time."Abraxas smiled, amused. "We’ll see about that." He pushed himself off the table and sauntered away, leaving Cordelia to gather her things and wondering if she’d managed to get under his skin more than she realized.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Chapter 3

The patrol that evening was quieter than usual, the heavy silence broken only by the sound of Cordelia’s measured steps echoing alongside Tom’s. She hadn’t spoken since they started, not even to mutter a sarcastic quip, which was rare for her. The weight of the previous patrol still hung over her thoughts, and though she hated to admit it, the bruises on her neck still throbbed faintly.It was Tom who broke the silence, his voice steady but softer than usual. “Blackwood,” he said, drawing her attention for the first time that evening.“What?” she replied, her tone sharper than intended.He didn’t react to her edge, instead meeting her gaze briefly before speaking. “I owe you an apology.”Cordelia stopped in her tracks, blinking in surprise. “Come again?”Tom turned to face her fully, his expression calm, though there was something almost... calculated behind his eyes. “The last patrol,” he said, his words careful and deliberate. “My behavior was inappropriate. It won’t happen again.”Cordelia raised an eyebrow, skepticism flickering across her face. “An apology? From you? Let me guess—it’s some ploy to keep me quiet.”He chuckled softly, his gaze cold but amused. “You think too highly of yourself, Blackwood.”“And you think I’ll buy your perfect act,” she shot back.His smirk faded slightly, and he adjusted his tone. “Believe it or don’t—it makes no difference to me. But I meant what I said.”Cordelia stared at him for a moment longer, searching for a crack in his armor, some sign that this was another one of his manipulations. When she found none, she gave a small shrug and started walking again. “Fine. Apology accepted, I suppose.”They continued in silence for a few moments, until Tom spoke again. “I’ve been thinking about a certain magical theory lately,” he began, his tone conversational but probing.Cordelia glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Which one?”“Elemental transmutation,” he replied. “Do you believe it’s possible to alter the core nature of an element without disrupting its essence?”Cordelia frowned slightly, considering his question. “In theory, yes,” she said carefully. “But only if the magic involved is precise enough to maintain the element’s integrity. Otherwise, the entire structure would collapse under the strain.”Tom nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Interesting. Few people consider the balance required. Most assume power alone is enough to force the change.”“Balance is everything in magic,” Cordelia replied. “Without it, you’re not creating—you’re destroying.”For a moment, Tom’s gaze lingered on her, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “You’re remarkably well-read, Blackwood,” he said finally.“And you’re remarkably predictable, Riddle,” she countered, though her voice lacked its usual bite.He smiled faintly, but said nothing more. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ Later that evening, Cordelia returned to her usual spot in the library, her desk piled high with books on magical beasts and ancient wizarding legends. She had just begun taking notes when a familiar voice interrupted her concentration.“Still buried in books, I see.”She looked up to find Abraxas Malfoy leaning casually against the opposite side of the table, his smirk as infuriatingly confident as ever. “Don’t you have anything better to do, Malfoy?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.“Not particularly,” he replied, sliding into the seat across from her. “And even if I did, I think I’d still prefer to annoy you.”Cordelia sighed, setting down her quill. “Well, congratulations—you’re succeeding.”Abraxas chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “You know, most people would kill for my attention. You’re the only one who acts like it’s a nuisance.”“Maybe because it is,” she muttered, returning her focus to her book.Abraxas leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “What are you so engrossed in, anyway? Something scandalous, I hope?”Cordelia didn’t look up. “Research.”“How thrilling,” he drawled. “Let me guess—you’re trying to figure out how to save the world, one obscure text at a time?”As Abraxas and Cordelia continued their conversation, Avery stepped into the library, his gaze immediately locking onto them. His eyes flickered with a flash of annoyance, but he masked it quickly.He wasn’t here for their petty banter.“Avery,” Abraxas called, his tone light. “Care to join us?”Avery shrugged, though his posture was tense. “I’m not here to socialize, Malfoy. I was looking for you—there’s something important I need to discuss.”Cordelia raised an eyebrow. “Important?”Avery nodded sharply, avoiding her gaze. “Nothing for you to worry about.”Abraxas smirked but didn’t press the matter. “Fine. I’ll catch up later.”As Avery walked away, his steps were purposeful, his mind elsewhere, but he didn’t want to reveal too much in front of Cordelia—not yet. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The next day, Transfiguration class was as lively as ever, with Professor Dumbledore at the front of the room, his presence commanding yet kind.“Today,” he began, “we’ll be discussing the ethics of magical transfiguration—particularly as it pertains to living creatures.”He turned to the class, his eyes twinkling. “Imagine you were tasked with transfiguring a Threstal into something entirely different. What moral considerations would come into play?”Tom’s hand was the first to rise. “Magic is a tool,” he said confidently. “The morality lies in the outcome. If the transformation serves a greater purpose, then the means are irrelevant.”Dumbledore regarded him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “An... interesting perspective, Mr. Riddle,” he said finally. “But I wonder—does the end always justify the means?”Before Tom could respond, Dumbledore’s gaze shifted. “Miss Blackwood,” he said, addressing Cordelia directly, “what do you think?”Cordelia, startled, hesitated for only a moment before answering. “Magic isn’t just about what we can do—it’s about what we should do. Transfiguring a living being without considering its essence isn’t just irresponsible—it’s cruel. Magic is about respect, not just power.”Dumbledore’s eyes gleamed with approval, and he smiled warmly. “Well said, Miss Blackwood. Ten points to Ravenclaw.”Across the room, Tom’s jaw tightened imperceptibly, though his expression remained composed.Cordelia could feel his gaze on her, cold and calculating, but she refused to meet it. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The corridors were abuzz with chatter as students filed out of Transfiguration, their robes swishing in hurried waves. Cordelia lingered behind, tucking her books into her bag, her mind still turning over Dumbledore’s pointed words to her. The subtle disapproval in his tone when addressing Tom hadn’t escaped her notice.“Someone’s got the Professor’s favor,” Ivy teased as she caught up, nudging Cordelia lightly in the arm.Cordelia rolled her eyes, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “It’s not a favor. He asked a question, and I gave the answer he wanted to hear.”“Still,” Ivy said, her voice dropping conspiratorially, “the way Tom looked at you? If looks could kill...”Freya appeared beside them, clutching her notebook tightly. “He always looks like that,” she said dreamily. “Like he’s plotting everyone’s downfall one step at a time.”Cordelia gave a short laugh, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Then I suppose I should watch my back.”The trio walked briskly through the corridor, dodging a group of Gryffindors who were animatedly discussing the upcoming Quidditch season.“Did you see Lucinda?” Ivy asked, smirking. “She looked ready to hex you on the spot when Dumbledore gave you those points.”Freya wrinkled her nose. “She’s probably furious she didn’t get Tom’s attention in class. That girl would set herself on fire if it meant getting a compliment out of him.”Cordelia shook her head. “Let’s not start dissecting Lucinda’s motives before Potions. Slughorn’s going to make us brew something ridiculous again, and I’d rather not lose my concentration thinking about her.”As they descended the stone steps to the dungeons, the air grew cooler, the chatter around them fading into faint murmurs. Freya glanced sideways at Cordelia, a knowing smile playing on her lips.“You’ve been awfully quiet today,” Freya remarked. “Something on your mind?”Cordelia hesitated for a moment before shrugging. “Just thinking about the workload this term.”“Liar,” Ivy said lightly, though her eyes gleamed with concern. “If it’s about Tom—”“It’s not,” Cordelia cut in quickly, her voice firmer than she intended. She took a deep breath, softening her tone. “I’m fine. Just tired.” Her friends exchanged a glance but said nothing more as they reached the heavy oak door to the Potions classroom. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The dungeon was already buzzing with energy when Cordelia, Ivy, and Freya stepped inside. The cool, damp air carried the familiar scent of herbs, brewed concoctions, and something faintly acidic. Professor Slughorn stood at the front, beaming as students took their seats.“Ah, welcome, welcome!” he said jovially, clapping his hands. “Today, we embark on a very special project, one that will require dedication, patience, and—most importantly—a strong partnership.”Cordelia exchanged a glance with Ivy, who raised an eyebrow.“A partnership?” Ivy whispered.Before Cordelia could respond, Slughorn’s voice carried over the room. “That’s right, my dear students! For the entirety of this term, you will be working in pairs to craft a series of advanced potions—culminating in an original brew of your own creation by the end of the year. Now, now, settle down!”The murmurs of excitement and trepidation rippled through the class as Slughorn began assigning partners.“Miss Withmore and Mr. Avery... Mr. Lestrange and Miss Flint...”Cordelia tuned him out for a moment, her quill idly tapping against her parchment.“And, of course,” Slughorn continued, his tone growing almost reverent, “my two most promising students: Miss Blackwood and Mr. Riddle!”The room went deathly quiet.Cordelia felt her stomach drop, though she kept her expression neutral. Across the room, Tom sat with the faintest trace of a smile—so faint it was barely perceptible, but she caught it nonetheless.“Professor,” Abraxas Malfoy spoke up, his tone laced with faux politeness, “isn’t that a little... unfair for the rest of us? I mean, pairing the two best students together? How are the rest of us supposed to keep up?”A few students chuckled under their breath, but Slughorn only chuckled warmly, shaking his head. “On the contrary, Mr. Malfoy, I would think it quite inspiring! Watching the very best work together should push all of you to strive even harder.”Abraxas leaned back in his seat, smirking faintly as his eyes flickered between Cordelia and Tom. “If you say so, Professor.”Slughorn ignored the comment and clapped his hands again. “Now, off you go! Sit with your partners, and let’s get started.” ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ Cordelia glanced across the room, expecting Tom to make his way over. But, of course, he didn’t budge. Instead, he sat at his desk with perfect composure, arranging ingredients as though the world revolved around him.She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “You know, Riddle, it’s customary for the gentleman to meet the lady halfway.”Tom didn’t even look up. “Customary, perhaps. Necessary? Hardly.”Cordelia snorted. “Let me guess—you think I should feel honored to walk over there.”Tom finally glanced at her, his expression cool. “I didn’t say it, but if the sentiment fits…”“Oh, it doesn’t,” she said, picking up her bag and making a show of walking as slowly as possible toward his desk. “I just don’t want to give Slughorn a reason to call me lazy.”Tom smirked faintly. “I doubt he’d dare. You’re one of his favorites, after all.”Cordelia stopped in front of the desk, leaning on it slightly. “That makes two of us. But don’t let it go to your head.”“Too late,” he replied smoothly, gesturing to the seat across from him. “Now, do sit. We wouldn’t want to keep the class waiting.”“You’re impossible, you know that?” she muttered as she slid into the chair.Tom’s smirk widened, his tone almost teasing. “And yet here you are, exactly where you’re supposed to be.”Cordelia sat at the desk, her arms crossed as she stared at Tom. “If we’re going to be stuck together for this entire project, let’s get one thing straight—I’m not here to follow your orders.”Tom didn’t even look up, calmly inspecting the silver knife in his hand. “And yet, that’s exactly what you’ll end up doing.”She scoffed, pulling her notebook out of her bag with more force than necessary. “I don’t know what fantasy world you live in, Riddle, but I actually have ideas of my own. And unlike you, I’m willing to listen.”Tom finally looked at her, one brow arched. “By all means, let’s hear them, Blackwood. I’m dying to know what brilliance you’ve concocted.”Cordelia rolled her eyes but flipped open her notebook, jabbing her finger at a list of carefully written ingredients. “For the final potion, I was thinking of something innovative—a blend that enhances focus while simultaneously calming the nerves. Perfect for exams, don’t you think?”Tom leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. “Practical. Predictable. Unoriginal.”Her jaw tightened. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want me to suggest a potion that turns people into toads for your amusement?”“Not a terrible idea,” Tom replied smoothly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.Cordelia narrowed her eyes. “Fine. What do you suggest, then? I’m sure the great Tom Riddle has a revolutionary plan that puts my ‘unoriginal’ idea to shame.”“As a matter of fact, I do.” He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping just enough to draw her in. “A potion that sharpens not just the mind, but also the senses—sight, hearing, touch. Imagine the applications: dueling, strategy, even survival.”Cordelia blinked, taken aback despite herself. “That’s... actually interesting.”Tom tilted his head, his smile sharp. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”“Don’t. I’m still annoyed.”“Annoyance is a sign of engagement,” he countered, already jotting down notes.Cordelia groaned. “Fine. Let’s say we go with your potion. Who’s doing what?”“I’ll handle the base ingredients,” Tom said without hesitation. “You can prepare the secondary compounds and test for stability.”“Oh, how generous of you,” she said dryly. “I suppose I should thank you for trusting me with such important tasks.”Tom looked at her, his expression calm but challenging. “It’s not about trust, Blackwood. It’s about efficiency. I’d rather not waste time correcting your mistakes.”She bristled, her hands gripping the edge of the desk. “I don’t make mistakes.”“Then we won’t have any problems,” he said smoothly, turning back to his notes. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ From his seat across the room, Abraxas Malfoy watched the exchange between Tom and Cordelia with a growing sense of irritation. It wasn’t jealousy—not exactly. But there was something about the way they worked together that rubbed him the wrong way.He leaned back in his chair, muttering under his breath. “Of course, the two ‘prodigies’ get along like a cauldron on full heat.”Quinn Fawley, seated beside him, raised an eyebrow. “Problem, Malfoy?”Abraxas shot him a glare. “No problem. Just... watching Blackwood handle herself with someone like Riddle is a bit much. Makes the rest of us look like amateurs.”Quinn smirked, leaning forward slightly. “Or maybe it just makes you feel like an amateur.”Abraxas didn’t dignify that with a response, though his lips tightened briefly.“Careful, mate,” Quinn added, a playful lilt in his voice. “You’re starting to sound jealous.”“I’m not jealous,” Abraxas said sharply, his eyes flicking back to Cordelia. She was gesturing animatedly at something on her parchment while Tom listened with an almost unreadable expression. “It’s just... annoying. The way she challenges him—like she doesn’t know what he’s capable of.”Quinn chuckled. “Maybe that’s why he finds her interesting. She doesn’t bow down to him like everyone else.”Abraxas scowled. “Well, it’s tiresome.”“Sure, mate,” Quinn replied, his smirk widening. “Keep telling yourself that.” ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ As the class ended, students began filing out of the dungeon, the air buzzing with low murmurs about the new potion project. Tom Riddle was the first to leave, his movements precise and purposeful as he disappeared through the door without so much as a glance back at Cordelia.She sighed, gathering her things with deliberate care. Her notes had sprawled across half the desk, and she wasn’t in the mood to rush after the whirlwind of chaos this class had become.“Need a hand, Blackwood?”Cordelia glanced up just in time to see Abraxas Malfoy standing over her, his smirk firmly in place.“No,” she said flatly, shoving her notebook into her bag.“Well, too bad.” In one smooth motion, he grabbed her bag and draped it over his shoulder with an exaggerated flourish. “As your ever-faithful knight, I shall accompany you to your next class. It’s a treacherous journey, after all—who knows, what ferocious dragons might try to make you stray from your path?”For a split second, Cordelia just stared at him, her usual sharp retort caught in her throat. Then, to her own surprise, a snort escaped her.Abraxas froze, clearly caught off guard. His expression quickly shifted into one of triumph, and he straightened his posture, looking far too pleased with himself. “Did... did you just laugh at my joke?”“Barely,” she said, her voice tinged with amusement.“That was definitely a laugh,” he countered, his smirk widening. “A full, genuine laugh. Admit it—I’m growing on you.”“Like a bad rash,” she replied, but her lips twitched as she fought back another smile.Abraxas’s ego inflated visibly, his chest puffing out as if he’d just won a duel. “A victory nonetheless. Come along, mi’lady. Let’s not keep the world waiting.”Shaking her head, Cordelia walked beside him, her bag still slung over his shoulder. Despite herself, she couldn’t help but feel that the day had gotten just a bit lighter. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The Ravenclaw table was alive with chatter as Cordelia sat with Ivy and Freya, picking at her shepherd’s pie. The day had been long, and she was more than ready to retreat to the common room, but her friends had other plans.“What,” Ivy began, her voice full of mock seriousness, “was that with Abraxas Malfoy?”Cordelia didn’t look up, feigning ignorance as she poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice. “What was what?”“Oh, don’t play coy,” Freya chimed in, leaning forward with an impish grin. “You know, the whole ‘mi’lady’ routine. I saw him carrying your bag like some lovesick knight.”Cordelia rolled her eyes. “He was being ridiculous, as usual. It meant nothing.”“Nothing?” Ivy raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Then why, pray tell, did you laugh? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh at any of his antics before.”“I didn’t laugh,” Cordelia muttered, but her resolve faltered when she chanced a glance toward the Slytherin table.Sure enough, Abraxas was seated with the Knights, looking as smug as ever. As if sensing her gaze, he turned his head and caught her eye.And then he winked.Cordelia’s face burned, and she quickly looked away, her cheeks tinged pink.Ivy gasped dramatically, slapping Freya’s arm. “Did you see that? He winked at her!”Freya giggled. “And look—she’s blushing!”Cordelia groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Will you two stop? You’re embarrassing me.”“Not as much as he’s embarrassing himself,” Ivy quipped, earning another round of laughter. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ Across the hall, Abraxas was basking in the glow of his minor victory, his smirk firmly in place as he leaned back in his chair.“Someone’s enjoying his little assignment,” Corvus remarked, his tone dry as he cut into his roast beef.“It’s not my fault I’m particularly good at what I do,” Abraxas replied smoothly, swirling his goblet of pumpkin juice.“Good?” Avery snorted, setting his fork down with a pointed look. “You’re laying it on so thick, it’s a wonder she hasn’t hexed you yet.”Quinn laughed, clapping Abraxas on the shoulder. “Don’t be jealous, Avery. Not everyone can pull off the ‘chivalrous knight’ act.”“I’m not jealous,” Avery shot back, though his tone was sharp. “I’m just saying, Riddle gave you a task—not a bloody courting ritual.”Abraxas shrugged, unbothered. “What’s the difference? It’s all about winning her over, isn’t it? Whether by charm, wit, or...” He paused, his smirk widening. “...other means.”Corvus raised an eyebrow. “Just remember—this isn’t about you. Riddle wants her watched, not wooed.”“Who says it can’t be both?” Abraxas countered, but the teasing edge in his voice faltered slightly under Corvus’s cold gaze.Before anyone could say more, the tension was broken by the arrival of Tom Riddle, who slipped into his seat with his usual quiet authority.The Knights immediately fell silent, their earlier banter dissipating like smoke. Tom’s eyes swept over them, sharp and calculating.“Something amusing?” he asked, his voice low but carrying an unmistakable edge.Abraxas leaned back in his chair, adopting a casual tone. “Just the usual nonsense.”Tom’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than necessary, and Abraxas felt the weight of it.“I trust,” Tom said, his voice cold, “that the nonsense hasn’t distracted you from your task.”“Of course not,” Abraxas replied quickly, though the tension in his jaw betrayed him.Tom’s lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. “Good.” He picked up his goblet, taking a slow sip before setting it down with deliberate care. “Because I’d hate to think you were losing focus.”The table remained quiet, the lighthearted camaraderie from moments before replaced by a heavy, oppressive silence.Quinn, ever the peacemaker, cleared his throat, attempting to diffuse the tension. “So, what’s next on our to-do list, Riddle?”Tom’s gaze shifted to him, cool and unreadable. “Plenty. But for now...” He glanced back at Abraxas, his expression darkening ever so slightly. “I’ll trust you to keep things... under control.” ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ Later that evening, Cordelia sat cross-legged on her bed in the Ravenclaw dormitory, a pile of books scattered around her. Her quill tapped rhythmically against the edge of her parchment as she attempted to focus on her notes about magical creatures, but her mind kept drifting to the day’s events.More specifically, to Abraxas Malfoy.His playful charm had always irritated her—he was smug, entitled, and far too aware of his good looks. But today had been... different. His joke about dragons, the way he’d carried her bag, and most surprising of all, the fact that she had laughed.She groaned, flopping back against her pillows. It didn’t make sense. Was he genuinely trying to be her friend? Or was there an ulterior motive? With Malfoy, there was always a motive.“Something bothering you?” Ivy asked, glancing up from her Charms textbook.Cordelia sat up quickly, shoving her parchment aside. “No. Why?”“You’ve been staring at the same page for twenty minutes,” Ivy replied with a smirk.“I’m fine,” Cordelia muttered, though her mind was anything but. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ In the dim glow of the Slytherin common room, Tom Riddle stared into the crackling fire, his jaw set tight. The Knights’ laughter at dinner had grated on his nerves, their carefree banter bordering on insubordination. And then there was Abraxas. The smug glint in his eyes, the overzealous way he executed his task—it was irritating.Even more irritating was the fact that it worked.Cordelia Blackwood had been… responsive. Not entirely fooled, perhaps, but enough to make her start lowering her guard. That should have pleased him.It didn’t.Tom leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his fingers steepled under his chin. He shouldn’t care about how Abraxas handled the task, only that it was done. But the idea of leaving something so important in someone else’s hands—especially Abraxas’s—gnawed at him.And then there was Cordelia herself. Clever, sharp, and far more perceptive than most. That much was clear. What wasn’t clear was why her actions—her prying, her defiance—stayed with him. She was supposed to be a task, a complication to be managed. So why was it that every interaction with her left him thinking about her long after she was gone?He clenched his jaw, forcing the thought aside. Weakness had no place in his plans. And distractions like Cordelia Blackwood? They were expendable. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The castle was silent as Cordelia Blackwood slipped through the corridors, her wand illuminating the way with a faint, ghostly glow. The faint click of her footsteps echoed in the vast emptiness, and the chill of the stone walls seeped through her thin nightgown.She tightened her grip on her wand, shivering slightly as she moved deeper into the shadows. The quiet was both calming and unsettling—Hogwarts was always alive with noise during the day, but at night, it felt like an entirely different place.The library loomed before her, its heavy oak doors creaking softly as she slipped inside. The smell of parchment and ink enveloped her, grounding her nerves as she made her way toward the Restricted Section.Her fingers skimmed over the spines of ancient tomes, her eyes scanning their titles. Finally, one caught her attention: The Chamber of Secrets: A Historical Analysis. Her heart quickened as she pulled it from the shelf, its leather binding worn and cracked.Sinking into a nearby chair, she opened the book and began flipping through its pages. The text was dense but intriguing, describing the origins of the Chamber, Salazar Slytherin’s supposed intentions, and rumors of the monster within.She was so engrossed that she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her.“Fascinating choice of reading.”Cordelia gasped, nearly dropping the book as she spun around. Her wandlight revealed Tom Riddle, standing just a few feet away. His dark eyes flickered briefly to the book in her hands, then back to her face.“Riddle,” she hissed, clutching the book tightly. “What are you doing here?”He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his gaze dipped, lingering on her thin nightgown for a moment longer than necessary. Cordelia’s cheeks burned, and she shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny.Finally, he stepped closer, his lips curving into a faint smirk. “I could ask you the same question, but I think the answer is obvious.”She squared her shoulders, trying to hide her unease. “This isn’t against the rules. Prefects are allowed in the library after hours.”“Not in the Restricted Section,” he countered smoothly, his voice low and almost amused. “But I doubt that’s the most pressing concern right now.”Before she could react, he reached out and plucked the book from her hands, his movements quick and deliberate.“Hey!” Cordelia protested, stepping forward, but he held the book just out of reach.“Let’s see what’s caught your interest,” Tom murmured, flipping through the pages. When his eyes landed on the section she had been reading, his expression darkened imperceptibly. “The Chamber of Secrets,” he said softly, almost to himself.Cordelia’s heart pounded as she watched his reaction. “Give it back,” she said firmly, but there was a slight tremor in her voice.Tom ignored her, snapping the book shut with a soft thud. “I think not,” he said, his tone colder now. “This isn’t exactly light reading, Blackwood. And I’d hate for you to... misinterpret what you find.”Her eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”“It means,” he said, slipping the book into his robes, “that some mysteries are best left unsolved.”Cordelia glared at him, her hands clenched into fists. “You can’t just take that!”“I can,” he said simply, his smirk returning. “And I have.”With that, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the shadows, leaving Cordelia standing alone, her frustration simmering as the quiet of the library closed in around her.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Chapter 4

Cordelia’s breath came in short gasps as she ran down the darkened stone corridor, the sound of her footsteps echoing off the walls. The air was thick with dampness, and the smell of ancient dust lingered in her nostrils, choking her. Behind her, she could hear something—a low, menacing hiss, almost too faint to make sense of, but it grew louder. Closer.
 
Her heart thudded in her chest, panic clawing at her throat. She didn’t know what was chasing her, but she could feel it—its presence, heavy and suffocating, as if the very walls of the Chamber were pressing in on her.
 
The darkness around her seemed to come alive, twisting and shifting with each step. She stumbled, nearly falling, but pushed herself up, forced to keep moving. The corridors stretched out before her, endless and oppressive.
 
Ahead, she could barely make out a faint glow—the promise of escape, of safety. But the closer she got, the colder the air became, as if the light itself was being swallowed whole. She glanced back, heart skipping a beat.
 
There—a figure—just standing there, barely visible in the shadows. It was tall, impossibly still, like a shadow of a shadow, a silhouette barely perceptible in the dim light.
 
She slowed, trying to make sense of it, but the air around her felt thick, suffocating. She opened her mouth to shout, but no sound came out. The figure stepped forward, moving with unnerving calm, and that’s when she saw it: the flicker of eyes—two red eyes, glinting on the dark, burning like embers.
 
Something about those eyes was... familiar. But she couldn’t place it. They glowed with a sinister warmth, watching her with an unsettling intensity.
 
Before she could move, something cold wrapped around her wrist—a hand, strong and unyielding, pulling her back. A voice, low and dangerous, echoed in her ears.

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

The walls closed in, the air felt tighter, thicker, and just as the pressure became unbearable—just as the figure stepped closer, the world around her shifted, blurred, and then—nothing.
 Cordelia jolted awake, gasping, the remnants of the nightmare clinging to her like a shroud. Her heart pounded in her chest, sweat clinging to her skin as the unsettling image of the red eyes lingered. The weight of it didn’t fade. Her breath came faster, more shallow, as the dark shadows of the nightmare seemed to press in on her even in the waking world.The room was still, but Cordelia couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. She tried to lie back down, but the darkness of the night seemed heavier now, filled with something she couldn’t name.She sat up in bed, her mind still spinning, the red eyes haunting her thoughts. They were so familiar. But from where?Her gaze flicked toward the window, but she couldn’t find any peace. Sleep was impossible now. The darkness of the night was no longer just outside the window, but inside her mind. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ Cordelia sat down at the Ravenclaw table, the faint trace of fatigue still on her face as she absentmindedly stirred her porridge.Ivy raised an eyebrow. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Cordelia. Rough night?”Freya shot her a teasing glance. “Maybe she stayed up reading again. Always those books.”Cordelia managed a tired smile, trying to push the nightmare to the back of her mind. “Something like that,” she said, her voice quieter than usual. “I’ve been having these strange nightmares... about being chased, but there’s something in them I can’t place. I just keep waking up before anything really happens.”Ivy’s face softened with concern. “Nightmares? That sounds rough. Are you sure you’re alright?”“I’m fine,” Cordelia replied quickly, not wanting to dive deeper into the disturbing dream. She forced herself to focus on her food. “It’s just a phase. It’ll pass.”As they continued talking, her mind wandered back to the nightmare—she couldn’t shake the eerie feeling that the eyes in it were too familiar, though she couldn’t quite figure out why.The conversation drifted to lighter topics, but Cordelia found herself distracted. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The rest of breakfast passed in a blur, and soon enough, the three girls made their way to Potions class. The familiar clink of cauldrons and the smell of bubbling ingredients filled the air as they walked in.Tom Riddle was already at his usual spot, seated at the front, his posture perfect and his gaze sharp. Cordelia tried to shake off the lingering unease from her nightmare as she made her way to her desk.“Let’s get this over with,” Cordelia muttered to Freya as they set their bags down.Freya nodded. “Yeah, Potions won’t be too bad, though with Riddle running things, I’m not so sure. Just don’t let him bite your head off again.”Cordelia managed a half-smile, glancing at Tom who, as usual, was already completely focused on his preparations for class. It was hard to tell what was on his mind at any given moment, but she didn’t care to find out. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The rest of the class continued as the students began preparing their ingredients for the potion. Tom and Cordelia were in their usual dynamic, a mix of subtle tension and intellectual sparring.Tom, without looking up, casually mentioned, “I think we could add a slight modification to the brew—Nightshade essence to enhance the potion's effect on the senses. It would increase the sharpness without overwhelming the body.”Cordelia narrowed her eyes, tapping her finger thoughtfully on the desk. “Nightshade? Isn’t that a bit... dangerous for something we’re going to use for a school project?”Tom glanced at her, that typical sharp smile playing on his lips. “That’s the point. The risk is what makes it worthwhile. Controlled danger increases effectiveness. It’s the art of balance.”“Always the dangerous one, aren’t you?” Cordelia quipped.He smirked but didn’t respond, instead turning his focus to the theory behind the potion. “Imagine the applications for this,” he continued, his voice dropping slightly, pulling Cordelia into the conversation. “Sharpening the senses—you could detect even the slightest movements in a duel, hear whispers from miles away, or even sense changes in the environment. It’s not just about increasing the mind’s acuity, but about becoming more attuned to the world around you.”Cordelia pondered this for a moment, leaning back in her chair. “I’ll admit, it’s more creative than I expected. I’m curious how you plan on controlling the side effects. You can’t just boost someone’s senses without risking sensory overload, right?”Tom’s smile grew wider, as though he knew he had her attention. “That’s where the dosage comes in. The key will be finding the perfect balance—the right amount of concentration to make it effective but not overwhelming.”Cordelia nodded, considering the possibilities. “I still think the theory behind it is a bit extreme, but it’s definitely interesting. I’ll give you that.”Tom raised an eyebrow, clearly pleased with her reluctant approval. “I’m glad you’re coming around.”She smirked, leaning forward a little. “But you’re not planning to test it on us, are you?”He looked at her, unfazed. “Not yet. But I’d suggest you be ready.” As the lesson came to an end, Tom stood, gathering his things in a smooth motion. He looked at Cordelia, who was still jotting down some notes.“You know,” Tom said, his voice cool but with a hint of purpose, “We’ll need to meet outside of class if we want to perfect this. How about the library? Twice a week. You can bring your more conservative ideas—” He smirked. “I’ll make sure the project moves in the right direction.”Cordelia’s gaze flicked to him, and she half-smiled, half-sarcastic. “Twice a week, huh? You really are determined, aren’t you?”“I’m nothing if not persistent,” he replied smoothly. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The evening was filled with the usual chatter of students heading to dinner, but Abraxas had a different agenda in mind. He found Cordelia alone near the staircase, waiting to head down to the Great Hall.“Blackwood,” he said, walking up to her with that same confident, yet somehow softer, smirk. “You’re looking stunning as always.”Cordelia raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “Cut the flattery, Malfoy. What do you want?”Abraxas grinned, clearly unfazed by her directness. “Well, I was wondering if you’d be interested in joining me for a trip to Hogsmeade this weekend? Just the two of us. We could grab a butterbeer, maybe get to know each other better.”Cordelia blinked, unsure. Was this part of some greater plan? Or was Abraxas genuinely interested in her? She didn’t trust him fully, but there was something undeniably charming about him.“I don’t know, Malfoy,” she said, crossing her arms. “You’ve got enough friends. Why would you want to waste time with me?”Abraxas’s grin widened, but there was a flicker of sincerity in his eyes. “Because I like to get to know people outside of the usual crowd. And I think you’d find a trip to Hogsmeade... interesting.”Cordelia hesitated, her mind racing. There was a quiet but persistent pull in her chest—a curiosity she couldn’t ignore.“I still don’t know, Malfoy. You don’t strike me as the type who enjoys company unless it’s for a reason.”He stepped closer, his expression softening slightly, though his voice remained confident. “You’re a lot more interesting than you give yourself credit for. I promise, no hidden agendas this time.”Cordelia looked at him, still unsure. She could feel her guard slipping, though she didn’t want to admit it. “Fine. But I’m not your personal entertainment, Malfoy. Just a little trip.”Abraxas’s smile deepened, and he gave a short nod. “You won’t regret it, Cordelia.” ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The Room of Requirement was quiet, the atmosphere thick with anticipation. Tom Riddle stood at the head of the table, his eyes scanning the faces of the Knights of Walpurgis. There was an air of expectation, the plans they’d been working on for months now nearing fruition.“Malfoy,” Tom said, his voice as cold as ever, cutting through the silence. “Report. How is the task with Blackwood progressing?”Abraxas looked up, not quite meeting his eyes but offering the smallest of smiles. “I asked her to Hogsmeade, my lord. She said yes. She’s starting to trust me more. My plan is working.” He paused, eyes flicking to Tom’s face for any sign of approval. “She’s beginning to let her guard down.”Tom’s lips curled, the faintest hint of approval in his gaze. “Good. Continue. Keep her distracted. Don’t let her get too close to anything. We don’t want her discovering too much before the time is right.”Abraxas nodded, his jaw tightening slightly at Tom’s words. But he didn’t challenge him; he couldn’t. “Of course, my lord.”Tom shifted his focus to Quinn Fawley, who had been tasked with locating Slytherin’s locket.“Fawley,” Tom said, his tone suddenly more direct. “Any progress on the locket?”Quinn straightened up, his usual playful grin gone, replaced by the seriousness of the task at hand. “Yes, my lord. I’ve found its location.” He leaned forward, glancing at the others before continuing. “It’s in the possession of Hetzibah Smith—a descendant of Helga Hufflepuff. Not only does she have the Slytherin locket, but she also has the Hufflepuff Cup.”Tom’s gaze sharpened, his interest piqued. “Very good, Fawley,” he said, his voice measured, but there was a flicker of approval in his eyes. “Continue your work. You will be rewarded for your efforts.”Quinn nodded, his chest puffing up slightly at the praise, but Tom quickly moved on.There was a cold silence as Tom leaned forward, his voice becoming more serious, darker. “In about a week, I will begin the process of creating my first Horcrux.” The words seemed to hang in the air, heavy with the weight of their implications.The Knights listened intently, the significance of Tom’s next steps not lost on any of them.“The diary,” Tom continued, “will be the first of many. The death of Myrtle Warren will be the catalyst. We will succeed, and my power will grow.” His tone turned colder still. “You will assist me, but ultimately, the burden will be mine. This will be the first of many.”The room grew silent again, each of them reflecting on the task ahead. But Tom, his mind already working through the next steps, stood and dismissed them.“You’re all dismissed. Continue your tasks. There’s much left to do.”The Knights rose, some lingering longer than others, but Tom stood still at the head of the table, his thoughts already turning inward. As the room emptied, he looked at the space before him, the plans starting to take shape. His mind was consumed with the Horcrux and the power it would give him, but there was also something else—Cordelia, still a loose thread, and the growing sense that his control was starting to slip. But it didn’t matter. He would claim everything. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ It was a crisp October day, and Cordelia found herself sitting on the edge of her bed, surrounded by her friends, who were far too excited about her outing with Abraxas.“I’m telling you, it’s definitely a date, Cordelia,” Ivy teased, holding up a velvet dress in front of Cordelia, inspecting it with a critical eye. “You should at least pretend to look a little interested. You know, for the occasion.”“It's not a date!” Cordelia insisted, crossing her arms defensively, though she couldn't help but notice how her heart fluttered a little at the thought.“Right, right,” Freya chimed in, sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Sure, it's just a casual trip to Hogsmeade. Except, you’re wearing a dress, your hair’s all perfect, and you're nervous as hell. No big deal.”Cordelia shot her a sharp look, but a smile tugged at her lips. “You’re both ridiculous.”The girls continued to joke, but Cordelia couldn't deny the butterflies in her stomach as they helped her get ready. She was wearing a deep green, A-line dress that fell just above her knees—classic, flattering, and just the right touch of elegance without overdoing it. It had long sleeves to keep out the chill, and a simple black belt cinched at the waist to give it shape. Her black boots were sturdy, practical for walking through the streets of Hogsmeade.Freya had worked her hair into soft waves that framed her face, and Ivy had convinced her to try a bit of makeup—just enough to highlight her eyes, a touch of eyeliner, and a light rose-tinted lip balm. Simple, but it felt unfamiliar to Cordelia, like she was stepping into a version of herself she didn’t quite recognize.Ivy stood back and admired the results. “If that’s not a date look, I don’t know what is.”Cordelia rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the slight self-consciousness creeping up on her. “It’s just Hogsmeade. It’s not a date, I told you.”“I’m not nervous,” she said, trying to sound more confident than she felt. “I’m just... not used to being asked out by Slytherins, that’s all.”“Oh, honey,” Ivy said, winking. “You’re in for a whole new world with that one.”Before Cordelia could argue, Freya handed her a long, black coat to match the dress. The fabric was soft and warm, perfect for the chilly afternoon.The girls helped her with a final once-over, and Ivy glanced at the clock. Abraxas would be waiting for her soon, just after midday. The time had come. At that point, Cordelia couldn't help but feel a strange mixture of excitement and uncertainty. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ In the Slytherin dormitory, the Knights of Walpurgis were in the midst of their usual banter as Abraxas prepared for his trip to Hogsmeade with Cordelia. The atmosphere was lighthearted, with laughter and teasing filling the room.Renold Rosier, ever the playful one, tossed Abraxas a comb. “You’re going out with her, Malfoy,” he teased, “Don’t tell me you’re planning on looking like you just rolled out of bed.”Abraxas shot him an amused look, adjusting his tie in front of the mirror. “Unlike some of you, I actually know how to dress for an occasion.”Wulfric Mulciber snickered. “Sure, but you can’t help the fact that you’re always dressed for an occasion. What’s next, a proposal?”“Shut up, Wulfric,” Abraxas muttered, though the playful jab didn’t bother him. He was used to the teasing.At that moment, Corvus Lestrange walked in, his dark eyes narrowing when he saw Abraxas fiddling with his appearance. His usual grim expression deepened. “You can joke all you want, but remember why you’re doing this.”Abraxas turned to him, his tone light but edged with something else. “I know, Corvus. Don’t worry. I’ve got it under control.”Corvus folded his arms. “You’re not just ‘getting to know’ her, Abraxas. This isn’t a casual thing. Riddle assigned you this task for a reason.” He stared at Abraxas, his voice hardening. “You better not fuck it up.”The room fell silent for a moment as the weight of Corvus’s words hung in the air. The tension between the two was palpable, with the rest of the boys exchanging looks. Rosier raised an eyebrow. “Bloody hell, Corvus, give him a break.”Abraxas exhaled slowly, his gaze never leaving Corvus. “I know what I’m doing. Riddle will get what he wants.”Corvus didn’t respond, but his expression softened just slightly. “See that you do.”Just as the silence began to settle awkwardly, Quinn Fawley chimed in with his usual playful tone, breaking the tension. “Honestly, you two act like Abraxas is about to start an international incident. He’s just going to Hogsmeade.”Abraxas rolled his eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Thanks, Quinn. Nice of you to remember what ‘fun’ is.”“Fun? I thought you were the one who made the rules, my dear Abraxas,” Quinn teased, hopping off the bed to grab his own things. “Besides, you’ve got the best of both worlds—cordial conversation with Cordelia and a little mission from our lord. What could go wrong?”The room erupted in laughter as the tension finally broke. Rosier clapped Abraxas on the back. “That’s the spirit. Now go out there and actually have a good time. We’ll take care of the dark stuff for you.”Abraxas gave him a sarcastic smile. “Thanks for the support.”As the boys continued to joke around, Abraxas quickly finished his preparations, his confidence restored—but a small, nagging doubt lingered in his mind. What if this wasn't just a task anymore? ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The air was crisp as Cordelia stepped outside the castle gates. She spotted Abraxas Malfoy, looking effortlessly handsome in his usual Slytherin attire. His eyes lit up when he saw her, and he greeted her with that characteristic smirk of his.“Blackwood,” he said, his voice smooth, “I must say, you’re looking... more than adequate today.”Cordelia glanced him over, taking in the way he casually leaned against the stone wall, his posture confident. She couldn’t help but return the compliment with a teasing smile.“You don’t look half bad yourself, Malfoy,” she said, her tone nonchalant, though there was a hint of amusement in her eyes. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”Abraxas chuckled softly, pushing himself off the wall and offering her his arm. “Shall we?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, as if the afternoon already belonged to them. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ As they wandered into Honeydukes, the familiar scent of sweets and sugar filled the air, the shelves stacked high with colorful confections. Abraxas casually picked up a bag of Chocolate Frogs and tossed it to Cordelia.“Chocolate Frogs. A classic,” he said with a grin. “You can’t come to Hogsmeade and not try one.”Cordelia caught the package, eyeing it with mild amusement. “I’m not five, you know,” she said, tearing open the wrapper. “But I suppose I’ll indulge.”Abraxas leaned against the counter, watching her with an amused look. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll find them... enchanting.”“Oh, I’m sure,” Cordelia replied dryly, nibbling on the frog. “Is this your idea of impressing me, Malfoy? Getting me to eat candy?”“Well, a gentleman would offer you a better selection, but I suppose this is a start.”Cordelia shot him a playful look. “What’s next? Butterbeer?”Abraxas gave a slow, mocking bow. “If you insist.”They both laughed lightly, the mood comfortable despite the earlier tension. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ After a while, they walked over to The Three Broomsticks, where a group of Slytherins was already seated. Abraxas led her through the pub, a friendly greeting from Renold Rosier and a few others coming in quick succession.“Cordelia,” Abraxas said, motioning to the group, “you’ve met them in passing, I’m sure: Quinn, Corvus, Cain, Wulfric, Dolohov and of course Tom.” He glanced at her with a grin. “Though I doubt they’ve made much of an impression.”Cordelia smirked, taking the open seat Abraxas pulled out for her. “Oh, they’ve made an impression all right. I think ‘arrogant’ sums it up nicely.”The boys let out a chorus of exaggerated groans, with Quinn clutching his chest dramatically. “Arrogant? Us? Abraxas, you didn’t warn us we were inviting an enemy to the table!”“An enemy with a sharp tongue, apparently,” Avery added, raising an eyebrow in mock offense.Cordelia leaned back, her tone teasing but casual. “You can’t expect me to hold back when you’ve got reputations like yours.”Quinn raised his glass with a grin. “Fair enough. But tell me, Cordelia—what’s a Ravenclaw like you doing keeping company with the likes of us? Surely we’re not your usual crowd.”She shrugged, meeting his playful gaze. “Maybe I’m doing a little research on what makes Slytherins tick. It’s been... enlightening.”“Is that so?” Corvus, who had been quieter until now, spoke up, his dark gaze steady on her. “And what have you learned so far?”“That you all enjoy an audience,” she replied smoothly, earning a round of laughter from the group.Even Abraxas chuckled, his smirk widening as he watched her hold her own. “I think she’s figured us out,” he admitted.At the corner of the table, Tom Riddle remained silent, his sharp eyes darting between Cordelia and the others. He said nothing, but his presence was impossible to ignore. Cordelia felt his gaze lingering longer than was necessary, and though she didn’t acknowledge it outright, she couldn’t help but feel as though he were silently dissecting the entire exchange. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The conversation shifted to more casual topics, and Wulfric Mulciber, ever the instigator, pulled out a flask. He held it up for everyone to see, grinning. “Who wants a bit more than butterbeer?”Cordelia raised an eyebrow. “What’s this, Mulciber? Don’t tell me you’re spiking the butterbeer?”Wulfric grinned, uncorking the flask. “Firewhisky. Just a little splash. Keeps things interesting.”Abraxas exchanged a quick glance with Cordelia, his expression a mixture of concern and amusement. “Are you sure you want to do that?”Cordelia looked at him with a smirk. “Why not? I’m not afraid of a little fun.”Wulfric poured the drink, and Cordelia didn’t hesitate, accepting the flask with a casual air. She took a deep gulp, feeling the warmth spread through her chest. “Not bad,” she said, setting it down with a slight smirk. “Could use more of a kick.”The boys around the table watched her, surprised but impressed. Avery let out a low whistle. “Didn’t expect that from you, Blackwood.”Abraxas let out a laugh, clearly entertained. “Guess I was wrong about you.”Cordelia raised her glass. “Here’s to surprises, then.” ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The pub was buzzing with laughter and noise as the group leaned heavily into their drinks. Quinn, already red-faced, tried to stand but misjudged the height of his chair, tumbling backward with a loud crash.“Quinn!” Wulfric howled, pointing at him and nearly toppling over himself from laughing. “That’s your third fall tonight!”“Third?” Quinn slurred, sitting up and pointing dramatically at Wulfric. “It’s my first! I think...”The table erupted in laughter again, even Corvus, whose usual stoicism had cracked under the influence of firewhisky. He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head at the mess.Meanwhile, Avery had taken to balancing an empty butterbeer mug on his head. “I’ll bet anyone a galleon I can walk to the bar without it falling!”“Sit down, you idiot,” Antonin muttered, though there was no real malice in his voice.“No, no, let him try,” Abraxas said, smirking as Avery took an unsteady step forward. Predictably, the mug crashed to the floor before he made it two steps.“Pay up!” Avery demanded, holding out his hand to no one in particular.“Pay up?” Cordelia asked, giggling as she reached for her own drink. “You owe us for having to witness that.”“Touché,” Avery said, slumping back into his chair with a dramatic sigh. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ Amidst the chaos, Abraxas leaned closer to Cordelia, his arm brushing against hers. “You’re enjoying yourself,” he said softly, a grin tugging at his lips.She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with the haze of alcohol. “Maybe. But only because watching you lot make fools of yourselves is highly entertaining.”He chuckled, his arm slipping around her waist as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “If that’s all it takes, I’ll make sure Quinn falls out of his chair again.”“You don’t need to try,” she teased, glancing over at Quinn, who was now unsuccessfully attempting to balance a second mug on his head. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧In the corner, Tom Riddle sat, his drink barely touched. He watched the chaos unfold with a faint smirk, though his sharp gaze lingered on Cordelia. After a moment, he leaned forward slightly, catching her attention.“Having fun, Blackwood?” he asked, his voice smooth, but with an edge that cut through the haze of alcohol clouding her thoughts.Cordelia blinked at him, then giggled, leaning forward on her elbows. “Oh, loads of fun, Riddle. Even you’re tolerable after a drink or two.”Tom’s smile didn’t falter. “I’m glad to hear it.” He paused, his gaze steady. “But tell me, Cordelia, what exactly were you doing in the restricted section the other night?”Cordelia’s giggles faltered for a moment, but the alcohol kept her walls down. “Just... research,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “Ravenclaw things.”Tom tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Research? After curfew?”“Some of us have questions that can’t wait,” she said, her voice light but her words just slightly defensive. “Why? Are you going to give me detention?”Tom leaned back, his expression unreadable. “No. Just curious.”Before Cordelia could respond, Quinn let out a loud whoop, drawing the group’s attention. “Another drinking game!” he shouted, his voice loud and slurred.The table erupted into cheers, but before anyone could start, Tom stood, his presence commanding. “It’s nearly curfew,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “We should head back.”Groans of disappointment rippled through the group, but even in their drunken state, no one argued. “Fine, fine,” Wulfric muttered, grabbing Quinn by the arm. “Let’s get this mess back to the castle.” ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ Walking slightly behind the group, Cordelia and Abraxas swayed lightly with each step, their conversation more relaxed now that the night was winding down.“That,” Cordelia said, glancing up at him with a smile, “was surprisingly... tolerable.”Abraxas raised an eyebrow, his hand resting lightly on her waist to steady her. “Tolerable? That’s it?”She smirked, nudging him playfully. “Fine. It was fun. Happy now?”“Ecstatic,” he said, his grin widening. “Though you might’ve just bruised my ego with that tolerable comment.”They both laughed, their voices blending into the quiet night. For a moment, Cordelia felt the tension she usually carried melt away, replaced by something lighter. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ At the back of the group, Tom, Corvus, and Antonin walked in silence for a time before Corvus broke it. “Blackwood seems... comfortable,” he said, his voice low.Tom didn’t respond immediately, his eyes fixed ahead. “She’s playing her part,” he said finally. “And so is Abraxas.”“You trust him to see it through?” Antonin asked, his tone laced with skepticism.Tom’s jaw tightened slightly. “I trust him to do as he’s told.”Corvus let out a soft, humorless laugh. “You’re not worried he’s enjoying himself too much?”Tom’s gaze darkened, his voice icy. “If he forgets why he’s doing this, he’ll face the consequences.”The three of them continued in silence, the faint sound of laughter from the others drifting back to them. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The group stumbled through the main entrance hall, the quiet hum of Hogwarts at night stark against their laughter and uneven footsteps. Cordelia was leaning slightly into Abraxas, giggling softly at something Quinn had slurred before Mulciber and Avery dragged him off toward the Slytherin common room.“Well,” Tom Riddle’s calm voice cut through the drunken chatter, “it’s getting late. Blackwood, I’ll walk you back to Ravenclaw Tower.”Cordelia blinked at him, her drunken mind taking a moment to process his words. “Nooo,” she said, dragging the word out with a slurred laugh. “I want Abraxas to take me.”Abraxas froze for half a second, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in something that wasn’t quite a smirk. His chest swelled just slightly, though he quickly schooled his expression into something more neutral. “If that’s what she wants,” he said casually, though there was a faint note of satisfaction in his tone.Tom’s jaw tightened imperceptibly, though his tone remained composed. “Very well,” he said coolly, stepping back. “Get her to her common room. And make sure she doesn’t wander.”Abraxas nodded, masking the satisfaction that flickered across his face. “Of course.”Tom lingered for just a moment longer, his gaze icy, before turning sharply and disappearing down the corridor with Corvus and Antonin, leaving Abraxas to lead Cordelia up the stairs. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The two of them walked slowly through the quiet corridors, their footsteps echoing faintly. Cordelia stumbled slightly on the uneven stone floor, and Abraxas caught her elbow, steadying her.“You’re surprisingly graceful for someone so drunk,” he teased, his voice warm.She snorted, giving him a sideways glance. “And you’re surprisingly... not terrible company.”Abraxas chuckled, his hand lingering on her arm for a moment before he let go. “High praise, Blackwood. Keep that up, and I might start thinking you actually like me.”“Don’t push it,” she said, though her lips quirked into a small smile.They passed a portrait of a stern-looking wizard, and Cordelia giggled again. “That guy looks like Slughorn when he’s mad.”Abraxas glanced at the portrait and laughed, his usual polished demeanor softened by the alcohol. “I think you’ve just ruined that portrait for me forever.”They continued their slow journey, their conversation light and aimless. Cordelia rambled about her favorite sweets from Honeydukes, and Abraxas found himself hanging on her every word, a part of him marveling at how different she seemed outside the confines of the classroom. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ Finally, they arrived at the towering bronze door that marked the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room. Cordelia turned to face him, her cheeks flushed—partly from the alcohol, partly from the warmth of his steady presence.“Well,” she said, her voice softer now. “Thanks for... for walking me back. And for the...” She hesitated, searching for the right word. “...nice day.”Abraxas’s lips twitched upward into a small smile. “Anytime, Blackwood. But don’t get used to it—I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”She laughed, shaking her head. “Of course. Can’t have people thinking you’re a gentleman.”For a moment, the air between them shifted. Abraxas’s gaze lingered on her, and she felt herself drawn to him, her heart thudding a little harder in her chest. It was as though the world had narrowed to just the two of them, the quiet corridor and the faint flicker of torchlight casting shadows on his face.He leaned in slightly, his usual confidence replaced by something softer, more tentative. Cordelia hesitated, her breath catching as she felt herself sway forward, drawn to the moment.But just before anything could happen, reality snapped back into place. Cordelia straightened, stepping back with a small, awkward smile. “Goodnight, Abraxas,” she said quickly, her voice a little too bright.He blinked, his expression unreadable, for a split second before he recovered, offering her a small bow. “Goodnight, Cordelia.”As she stepped through the door and into the common room, Cordelia exhaled sharply, her heart still pounding. She wasn’t sure what had just happened—but it was something she couldn’t quite ignore.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Chaper 5

The sunlight streaming through the window was entirely too bright for Cordelia’s liking. She groaned, pulling the blanket over her head, her temples pounding like a drum. Last night’s firewhisky-fueled haze was slowly coming back to her in pieces: the laughter, the butterbeer, the teasing...And then him.Cordelia groaned again, burying her face deeper into the pillow. Abraxas Malfoy. The memory of their walk back to the castle burned in her mind. The way he had looked at her—the soft, unguarded warmth in his eyes—and the way she had nearly leaned in.“What the hell was I thinking?” she muttered to herself.She groaned again, louder this time. “Bloody Malfoy. Smug, arrogant, insufferable Malfoy,” she muttered into the pillow. “I hope he tripped down the stairs on the way to his dorm.”Dragging herself out of bed, she splashed cold water on her face and tried to ignore the memory of their walk back to the castle. Specifically, the way he had smiled at her. And that moment. The almost-kiss.Her reflection stared back at her, cheeks flushing at the thought. “You’re an idiot, Cordelia,” she muttered. “An absolute idiot.” ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ By the time Cordelia reached the Ravenclaw table, Ivy and Freya were already there, waiting for her with twin grins that made her immediately suspicious. She slumped into her seat, burying her face in her hands.“Morning, sunshine,” Ivy said brightly, sliding a cup of tea in front of her.Cordelia groaned. “Kill me now.”Freya leaned forward, smirking. “Rough night?”Cordelia shot her a glare. “Rough is an understatement. My head feels like it’s been trampled by a herd of centaurs.”“Maybe next time, don’t try to keep up with Quinn Fawley,” Ivy said with a laugh.Freya’s smirk widened. “Or maybe next time, don’t let Abraxas Malfoy walk you home.”Cordelia stiffened, her head snapping up. “How do you—”“You were muttering his name when you stumbled into the dorm last night,” Freya said innocently, though her grin betrayed her.Cordelia cursed under her breath. “I was not.”“Oh, you absolutely were,” Ivy said, her voice sing-song. “So, spill. What happened?”“Nothing happened,” Cordelia snapped, though her cheeks flushed traitorously. “We walked back to the castle, and that’s it.”“Hmm,” Freya said, tapping her chin. “Did he carry you up the stairs, or just sweep you off your feet entirely?”Cordelia grabbed her cup of tea and muttered, “I hate both of you.” ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ Before Cordelia could finish her tea, a familiar drawl cut through the morning hum.“Good morning, love.”Cordelia froze, the sound of Abraxas Malfoy’s voice sending a fresh wave of embarrassment through her. Slowly, she turned to see him standing behind her, a small vial in his hand and that damn smirk on his face.“You have got to be kidding me,” she muttered.Without waiting for an invitation, Abraxas slid into the seat beside her. The whispers from the surrounding Ravenclaws started immediately.“What are you doing here?” Cordelia asked, her voice sharp.Abraxas set the vial on the table in front of her. “I thought you might need this.”She eyed the potion suspiciously. “What is it?”“A hangover cure,” he replied smoothly. “You’re welcome.”Cordelia narrowed her eyes. “And why should I trust you? For all I know, this could be poison.”Abraxas leaned back in his seat, feigning offense. “If I wanted to kill you, Blackwood, I wouldn’t bother with poison. I’d just push you down a staircase.”Freya choked on her tea, while Ivy dissolved into laughter. Cordelia, however, remained unimpressed.“Charming,” she muttered.“Well,” Abraxas said, gesturing to the vial, “if you’d rather suffer through the day, be my guest.”With a dramatic sigh, Cordelia grabbed the potion and downed it in one go. The effect was immediate—her headache dulled, and the tension in her shoulders eased.“Damn it,” she muttered. “It actually works.”Abraxas smirked, standing and brushing off his robes. “Try not to miss me too much, Blackwood.”“Don’t worry,” she called after him. “I won’t.” ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ At the Slytherin table, Tom Riddle watched the exchange with detached interest. His gaze lingered on Abraxas as he returned to his seat, then shifted back to Cordelia.“Well,” Quinn said, leaning in with a grin, “looks like Malfoy’s really pulling out all the stops.”Corvus rolled his eyes. “He’s only doing what he was told.”Tom’s expression didn’t change, though there was a faint edge to his voice when he finally spoke. “Precisely. Abraxas knows his task.”Quinn tilted his head, studying Tom carefully. “And you’re not worried at all?”Tom took a sip of his tea, his tone as calm as ever. “Why would I be? Everything is going according to plan.”But as he set his cup down, his fingers tightened ever so slightly around the handle.✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The castle halls were alive with noise as students shuffled to their next classes, the sound of hurried footsteps and lively chatter bouncing off the stone walls. Cordelia, Ivy, and Freya walked together, the three of them weaving through the throng of students.“I swear,” Ivy said, clutching her Transfiguration book, “Professor Merrythought’s lessons are just going to turn into a circus today. I heard a Gryffindor trying to practice a disarming spell this morning, and they nearly hexed themselves into next week.”Freya laughed, her auburn curls bouncing as she glanced at Cordelia. “You look like you didn’t sleep again. More nightmares?”Cordelia hesitated, pulling her robe tighter around her. “Just restless, I guess. Probably all the excitement of... everything.” She wasn’t ready to tell them about the strange dreams that had been haunting her nights—the red-eyed figure and the oppressive darkness were too hard to put into words.Freya gave her a gentle nudge. “Well, try to keep your head up. We’ve got Defense next, and Merrythought’s been hinting at something practical today. Maybe we’ll get to hex someone.”Cordelia managed a small smile, but the knot in her stomach didn’t loosen.As they rounded the final corner to the classroom, the crowd thinned slightly, revealing Tom Riddle leaning against the wall near the door. He was flanked by Cain Avery and Corvus Lestrange, their expressions unreadable but somehow amused.Cordelia tried to ignore them, though she could feel Tom’s eyes flicker toward her as they approached. His gaze lingered for just a second too long, sending an unexplainable chill down her spine.“Do you think he ever relaxes?” Ivy whispered, glancing at Tom with a mixture of curiosity and wariness.“Probably not,” Freya replied, her voice low. “That much perfection must be exhausting.”Cordelia didn’t say anything, her thoughts drifting as they filed into the classroom. She felt Tom’s presence, heavy and watchful, even as she sat down and tried to focus on the day’s lesson.✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom hummed with energy, students buzzing in anticipation as Professor Merrythought clapped her hands to call for order.“Today,” she began, her voice warm but commanding, “we’ll put theory into practice. Dueling!” Her gaze swept across the room, her smile widening. “I want to see how well you’ve absorbed the defensive and offensive techniques we’ve covered last term. Each of you will partner up, and I’ll be observing every duel. Impress me.”The class erupted into a mix of excitement and nervous chatter. Cordelia turned instinctively toward Freya and Ivy, but before she could say a word, she caught sight of Tom Riddle, standing near the edge of the room. His sharp eyes scanned the students before subtly gesturing to Cain Avery, who followed him into a shadowed corner.Tom’s voice was low, deliberate as he addressed Avery. “You’ll duel Blackwood,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.Avery raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a dangerous grin. “You want me to break her spirit?”Tom’s smile was faint, cold. “No. Test her. Push her limits. If her skill matches her wit, she could be worth... cultivating.”“Cultivating?” Avery echoed, his grin widening.Tom’s gaze hardened. “If Blackwood is as capable as I suspect, she could become a powerful ally. Or a dangerous adversary. Either way, I need to know what she’s made of. Do not hold back.”Avery’s grin sharpened. “Understood.” ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ Back in the classroom, Cordelia approached Freya and Ivy. “Let’s partner up,” she began, but her words were cut short.“Freya,” Corvus Lestrange’s smooth voice interrupted as he stepped in front of her friend. “We should duel. I’d like to see how sharp Ravenclaws really are.”Freya blinked, caught off guard. “Oh, um—”“Perfect,” Corvus said, already steering her toward a dueling area.“Rosier,” Ivy began, trying to sidestep the tall Slytherin, “I—”“We’ll make an excellent pair,” Rosier said with a grin, cutting off any protest as he ushered Ivy away.Cordelia frowned, turning back only to find Avery grinning down at her. “Looks like we’re stuck together,” he said, giving a mock bow.Her frown deepened. “Convenient,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “I was planning to partner with Freya or Ivy.”Avery smirked. “Well, they seem... occupied.” He gestured toward her friends, who were already being paired off with Avery and Lestrange. “Come on, Blackwood. Let’s see if you can keep up.” ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ Professor Merrythought called the first pair to the center—a Gryffindor and a Hufflepuff. The two squared off awkwardly, wands raised in trembling hands.The Gryffindor cast a shaky Stupefy, which the Hufflepuff barely dodged, retaliating with an Expelliarmus that fizzled out before it reached its target. The duel ended in an anticlimactic draw as both students hesitated, clearly unsure of their next move.Merrythought sighed, though her smile remained kind. “Good effort, but I know you can do better. Next pair!” “Blackwood. Avery.”Cordelia’s stomach flipped at the sound of Merrythought’s voice. She stepped into the center of the room, her wand clutched tightly in her hand. Across from her, Avery stood relaxed, his wand held loosely, his grin widening.“Try not to cry,” he teased.“Try not to embarrass yourself,” she shot back, her voice steady despite her nerves.“Begin!” Merrythought called.Avery struck first, his wand slicing through the air as he cast a bludgeoning hex. Cordelia dodged just in time, countering with a swift concussion curse, but Avery deflected it effortlessly with a shimmering shield charm.“You’ll have to do better than that,” Avery taunted, circling her like a predator.Cordelia didn’t reply. Her mind raced as she cast a flurry of disarming spells, forcing Avery to dodge and deflect. One spell grazed his shoulder, and he stumbled slightly, his grin faltering.“Not bad,” he muttered, his tone darker now.He retaliated with a binding hex, ropes of light shooting toward her. Cordelia countered with a burst of fire, the flames consuming the ropes mid-air. The crowd gasped, but she didn’t stop.With a sharp twist of her wand, she cast a concussive blast that sent Avery skidding backward. For a moment, she thought she’d won. But Avery’s laughter rang out as he pushed himself to his feet, his wand glowing with dark, crackling energy.Cordelia’s heart pounded. She recognized the spell—it was powerful, designed to overwhelm. Acting on instinct, she cast a mirror charm, the air around her shimmering like glass. Avery’s spell hit the barrier and rebounded, exploding against the far wall in a blinding flash.When the dust settled, Cordelia stood steady, her wand still raised. Avery lowered his wand, a reluctant grin spreading across his face. “Not bad, Blackwood. Not bad at all.” ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ As the classroom emptied, Tom approached Avery, his expression unreadable.“She’s good,” Avery said before Tom could speak, brushing dust from his robes. “Better than most in this room.”Tom’s eyes narrowed. “Details.”Avery chuckled. “She’s sharp, quick on her feet. That mirror charm she pulled? Genius. Most would’ve been flat on their backs.”Tom’s gaze darkened, though his tone remained calm. “As I suspected. Keep an eye on her. If she slips, I want to know.”Avery raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning. “You think she’s a threat?”“Not yet,” Tom replied, his voice dropping. “But she’s clever, and cleverness without loyalty is dangerous. If she’s not an ally, she’ll be an obstacle.” ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The classroom had mostly emptied, leaving a quiet buzz of fading conversation behind. Cordelia was still catching her breath, her wand hanging loosely at her side. Her muscles ached, but her pride remained intact—though Avery had pushed her, she’d held her ground.A faint shift of air behind her made her turn, and she found herself face-to-face with Tom Riddle, standing far too close. His dark eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her stomach tighten.“Impressive,” he said softly, his voice a near whisper, smooth and unsettling. “For someone who didn’t want to duel Avery, you held your own.”Cordelia frowned, brushing dust off her robes with brisk movements. “Didn’t have much of a choice, did I?” she snapped, her tone sharper than intended.Tom’s lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile, though it lacked any warmth. “Choice is an illusion, Blackwood. What matters is how you perform when it’s taken from you.”Cordelia raised an eyebrow, her irritation flickering to curiosity. “And this performance? Was it up to your lofty standards?”He didn’t answer immediately, instead letting his gaze flick over her, as if cataloging every flaw and strength she possessed. “You exceeded expectations,” he said finally. “But don’t let it go to your head.”Cordelia snorted, slipping her wand into her pocket with more force than necessary. “Don’t worry. Your opinion means so much to me.”Tom stepped closer, just enough for the space between them to feel unbearably charged. “You’re clever,” he murmured, his tone calm yet calculating. “But cleverness without control can be dangerous. I wonder which will win out in the end.”Cordelia’s chest tightened, her instincts urging her to take a step back, though she refused to budge. “Is that a warning?” she asked, keeping her voice steady despite the unease crawling up her spine.His smile widened, chilling and deliberate. “An observation.”Without another word, he turned and walked away, his robes sweeping behind him as though the conversation had left no impact on him at all. Cordelia watched him go, her heart pounding. She wasn’t sure if she felt triumphant for holding her ground—or something closer to dread. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The library was quiet, save for the soft rustling of pages and the occasional creak of the shelves. Cordelia sat hunched over one of the old oak tables, a single candle casting flickering shadows across the stacks of dusty books before her. The usual students had long since gone to bed, leaving her in the comforting silence that only a library could provide. But this silence was different—there was a weight to it, an unease that wouldn’t let her focus entirely.Her mind was on Myrtle.The more she thought about it, the more the details about her death seemed... wrong. The way she had died, the words she’d spoken before she passed—it didn’t add up. Cordelia had always trusted her instincts, and right now, her instincts were screaming that something deeper was at play. Something dark.Her fingers danced over the pages of various books, skimming through one account of Hogwarts history after another, until she finally landed on a thick, leather-bound tome tucked in the back of the restricted section. The title, The Founders’ Secrets, immediately caught her eye. She hesitated, glancing around the dim library to ensure no one was watching her. She had snuck in here a few times already, but it never felt like quite the right time to delve too deep into the mysteries surrounding the Chamber of Secrets.Still, something about Myrtle’s death—the parallels to the stories of old—bothered her. And she knew the only way to answer her questions was to look further into the forbidden history of the school.As she turned the yellowed pages of the book, her eyes scanned the dense text. The Chamber of Secrets. The creature. She had always thought it was just an old myth—a story told to frighten first years. But the more she read, the more she realized there was truth in the legend. The creature that had supposedly killed Myrtle, something from the Chamber, was no mere monster—it was something ancient, something tied to the very creation of the school.
“The creature lies dormant, waiting for the blood of the heir to awaken it.”
Cordelia’s breath caught. The heir. Of course. The line of Slytherin.As Cordelia flipped through the brittle pages, her eyes landed on something that made her blood run cold. There, etched in faded ink, was a description of an ancient serpent—a creature hidden within the fabled Chamber of Secrets. Its abilities were terrifying: capable of killing with a single glance, it was said to obey only the heir of Salazar Slytherin.Cordelia swallowed hard. “A serpent,” she whispered to herself, her mind racing.But then, further along, the text mentioned a peculiar detail. The supposed culprit of the attacks during the previous opening of the Chamber was not a serpent at all. It was a creature, an Acromantula—a massive spider that had been the pet of a Gryffindor student, Rubeus Hagrid. Cordelia’s brow furrowed. The pieces didn’t add up. How could a spider be mistaken for a serpent capable of death with a glance?Her grip tightened on the edges of the book. There was something more here, she was sure of it. The inconsistencies gnawed at her, and her curiosity deepened. If the serpent wasn’t the real culprit—or if the Acromantula had merely been a scapegoat—then what had actually happened during those years? And how did Tom Riddle play into it?Cordelia had lost track of time in the library, her mind so consumed by the secrets she was uncovering that the hours slipped away unnoticed. It wasn’t until a glance at the clock on the wall jolted her that she realized she had missed the scheduled patrol with Riddle. Her heart dropped.She gathered her things quickly, rushing out of the library. As she made her way through the corridors toward the Ravenclaw Tower, her steps quickened with growing anxiety.She reached the designated meeting point, breathless, only to find Tom standing there, arms crossed, his gaze sharp.“You’re late,” he said coolly, his voice laced with an edge of disapproval. “I trust there was a very good reason for your tardiness, Blackwood.”Cordelia straightened, trying to hide her flustered state, her cheeks flushed. “I lost track of time,” she said quickly, not bothering to hide the frustration in her voice. “I was studying.”“Studying?” Tom raised an eyebrow, his gaze assessing. “Do you really think I care about your studies? If you’re going to be late, you should at least show some respect.” His tone was clipped, but there was a strange amusement in his eyes.Cordelia clenched her jaw, her patience starting to fray. “I’m sorry, I won’t be late again.”Tom’s lips curved into a small, almost imperceptible smile. “I should hope not. Now, let’s get on with it. We have business to attend to.” ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ Cordelia and Tom walked through the dark hallways, their footsteps echoing through the silence of the castle. The usual quiet of the night was interrupted only by the occasional whisper of distant conversations.As they passed a few corridors, they caught sight of a first-year hurrying back to his dorm. The student froze, looking guilty, but quickly scrambled to apologize.“Late-night wanderer?” Tom said dryly, his voice cold. “Ten points from Gryffindor. Get back to your common room before I decide to give you detention.”The student nodded quickly, scurrying off into the darkness.A few more steps down, and Tom and Cordelia turned a corner, only to stop in their tracks.Suddenly, a muffled noise—more of a low laugh—came from behind the door. Cordelia furrowed her brow and, without thinking, swung the door open.A scream tore from her throat.There, tangled together in an embarrassingly intimate way, were Quinn Fawley and a Hufflepuff girl, both clearly caught in a compromising situation, still half-dressed.The sight was so shocking, she froze for a second, her breath catching in her throat. Quinn’s wide-eyed expression mirrored her own, and for a split second, Cordelia couldn’t even process what she was seeing.Tom stepped forward, his face unreadable, eyes narrowing slightly at the scene. But Cordelia was still too stunned to even move.“Really, Fawley?” Tom asked, his voice laced with irritation, but also a trace of something else. “This is how you’re spending your time?”Quinn scrambled to fix his shirt, mumbling something about it not being what it looked like. The Hufflepuff girl was hastily pulling her clothes together, clearly mortified.“Fifty points from Hufflepuff and Slytherin for breaking curfew,” Tom continued, his gaze sharp. “And detention for both of you. Get to your common rooms.”Cordelia couldn’t stop staring, her mind still reeling.Quinn looked at her, clearly embarrassed. “Well, this is awkward,” he muttered, giving a sheepish grin.Tom turned to Cordelia, his tone more stern now. “Next time, Blackwood, try not to find something like this during a patrol.”She nodded absentmindedly, still a bit too shaken by the encounter. Tom didn’t give her another glance as they walked away, his footsteps echoing in the hallway. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ As the patrol continued, Cordelia couldn’t help but laugh to herself, the image of Quinn and the girl still fresh in her mind. But Tom, ever the serious one, was quiet as they walked, his mood somewhat darker now.Finally, Tom spoke, his voice casual but edged with authority. “I won’t be joining you for the next patrol. I have… urgent matters to attend to.”Cordelia raised an eyebrow. “Urgent matters?” she asked, though she had no desire to probe. The tone in his voice had dropped just enough to tell her it wasn’t something she needed to be involved in.Tom didn’t meet her gaze. “I have business to take care of. Some matters that require my full attention. Just… continue with the patrol without me.”Cordelia nodded, sensing that this was another piece of the puzzle she wasn’t supposed to understand yet. But Tom’s cryptic words only made her more curious.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Chapter 6

The early morning sun filtered weakly through the high windows of the Great Hall, casting golden beams onto the Ravenclaw table. Cordelia sat with Ivy and Freya, her hands wrapped around a warm cup of tea. Despite the comforting clatter of breakfast around her, her thoughts lingered on her research. Pages of notes, half-formed theories, and the name "Salazar Slytherin" swirled in her mind, refusing to let her focus.“You’ve been staring into that tea for five minutes,” Freya teased, nudging her. “Hoping it’ll brew up answers?”Cordelia blinked and shook her head. “Sorry. Just... distracted.”“Don’t be too distracted,” Ivy warned, her tone light but pointed. “You’ve got Potions next, and you know Slughorn loves to see you ‘focused and exceptional.’” She mimicked the professor’s booming voice, earning a laugh from Freya.Cordelia groaned. “Don’t remind me. Another morning of Tom ‘Perfect Partner’ Riddle silently judging my every move.”As if on cue, the bell rang, signaling the next class. Cordelia gathered her books and followed the flow of students to the dungeons, where the familiar chill of the Potions classroom greeted her.Inside, Tom was already at their station, his posture as impeccable as ever. Without looking up, he gestured toward the prepared ingredients.“You’re late,” he said smoothly.Cordelia glanced at the clock, frowning. “By thirty seconds.”“That’s thirty seconds we could have used productively,” Tom replied, adding a final note to their shared parchment.She rolled her eyes but took her seat, the rhythm of their long-term potion project quickly taking over.As she began to prepare the ingredients, she muttered under her breath, “Arse.”Tom’s sharp gaze snapped to her, his jaw tightening, but he said nothing, only glaring at her in silence. The tension between them thickened, but neither acknowledged it further.“We’ll meet in the library after class today,” he said after a while, his voice calm but firm.Cordelia blinked, taken aback by the abruptness. “I can’t. I have other things to—”“You’ll be there,” Tom interrupted smoothly, his gaze pinning her in place. “This project is a reflection of both of us, and I have no intention of letting it fall behind because of... distractions.”She huffed. “I don’t remember signing up for dictatorship.”“You didn’t. You signed up to work with me,” Tom replied with a faint smirk. “And I don’t accept mediocrity.”Cordelia rolled her eyes but chose not to argue further. She knew it was a losing battle.Cordelia adjusted the flame under the cauldron, carefully stirring as the potion began to thicken. The faint shimmer it gave off suggested they were heading in the right direction.“So,” she said, glancing at Tom, “assuming the Nightshade works for enhancing reflexes, what’s the counterbalance? You can’t just keep pushing the body without introducing something to stabilize it.”Tom tapped his quill against the edge of their notes, his expression contemplative. “A stabilizing agent would undermine the potency. We need to let the senses reach their peak without dulling them.”“That sounds like a terrible idea,” Cordelia retorted, narrowing her eyes. “You’re essentially setting someone up for sensory overload. They’d be effective for a few minutes, sure, but after that? They’d crash—hard.”Tom’s lips curved into a faint smile. “You think too much in absolutes, Blackwood. Magic is about pushing boundaries, not staying comfortable within them.”She rolled her eyes, pausing mid-stir. “There’s pushing boundaries, and then there’s recklessness.”“Is it reckless,” he countered, leaning forward slightly, “if it works?”Cordelia snorted, unwilling to concede the point. “Fine. Let’s say your plan holds. What happens if we amplify the effect further? Use something like powdered Fwooper feathers—an enhancer that could prolong the sharpness without exhausting the body.”Tom’s eyebrow rose, clearly intrigued. “Interesting. Risky, but not impossible. The mental strain would still be significant.”“Which is why,” she said, crossing her arms, “we add diluted Calming Draught as a secondary buffer. Enough to prevent a meltdown, but not so much it dulls the heightened senses.”Tom considered this, a glimmer of approval in his eyes. “Clever. It could work.”“Could?” she echoed, smirking. “I thought you liked risks.”He chuckled softly, though his gaze didn’t lose its sharpness. “Calculated risks, Blackwood. There’s a difference.”Their debate was interrupted by Slughorn’s unmistakable bellow. “Ah, Tom, m’boy!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together as he approached their table. “Brilliant, absolutely brilliant. The way you two are weaving theory and application—it’s extraordinary. A potion that could sharpen the senses to that degree? Why, you’d be revolutionizing the art itself!”Cordelia bit her lip, not entirely comfortable with the sudden attention. Slughorn’s enthusiasm wasn’t easily contained. “And Miss Blackwood, of course, a shining example of Ravenclaw intellect! Helping to ground Mr. Riddle’s daring ideas, I imagine?”She managed a polite smile. “We’re a team, Professor.”“Team, indeed!” Slughorn declared, walking to the next pair. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ As the classroom emptied, Cordelia gathered her notes, ready to leave, when Slughorn approached her with a broad smile.“Miss Blackwood, a quick word!” he began, clasping his hands together. “You’ve been doing splendid work lately. Truly a shining example of Ravenclaw ingenuity. I’d like to extend an invitation to my little gathering this Friday evening. The Slug Club, you see—a chance to mingle with some of the most promising minds of your generation.”Cordelia hesitated, caught off guard. “Oh, I—thank you, Professor. I’d be honoured.”“Splendid! I’ll see you there, then,” Slughorn said warmly before bustling away.Stepping out of the classroom, Cordelia was startled to find Abraxas Malfoy leaning against the wall, his pale hair catching the dim light of the corridor.“Slug Club, eh?” he drawled, pushing off the wall with a lazy elegance. “It seems Slughorn’s finally recognizing talent outside of Slytherin.”Cordelia raised an eyebrow. “What do you want, Malfoy?”He smirked. “An escort. Since I, too, will be gracing the illustrious gathering, I thought we could go together. A Ravenclaw and a Slytherin—it’s practically symbolic.”She folded her arms. “And why would I agree to that?”“Because” he said, leaning closer, his smirk softening into something more genuine, “I’ll ensure you’re not stuck making polite conversation with Slughorn all evening. And besides, you can tell everyone you tamed the infamous Abraxas Malfoy.”Cordelia snorted, despite herself. “You’re impossible.”“Impossibly charming,” he corrected, winking. “So, shall I pick you up on Friday?”Cordelia sighed, shaking her head with a small smile. “Fine. But if you embarrass me, I’m hexing you.”“Deal,” Abraxas said with mock solemnity, his grin widening. “This’ll be fun, Blackwood. I promise.” ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ Cordelia trudged into the library, her mind foggy with the exhaustion of a long day’s classes. She barely acknowledged the other students as she found a table in the corner, pulling her books from her bag with a sigh. The flicker of the candles illuminated the pages before her, but she couldn’t quite focus. She just wanted to get this last study session over with.Tom was already at the table, his gaze fixed on the stack of books in front of him. She sat across from him, ignoring the weight of his stare.“Ready for this?” Cordelia muttered, still irritated from the events of the day.Tom looked up from his book. "I’m not the one who needs convincing." His voice had an edge to it, but there was a strange softness beneath it that Cordelia didn’t quite catch.They dove into their work, the soft rustle of pages filling the silence. Cordelia flicked through the next chapter, her brow furrowed in concentration, but Tom couldn’t help but look at her. He noticed how the candlelight reflected off her dark hair, the way her lashes created a shadow on her flushed cheeks. Her chocolate brown eyes scanned the page with such intensity, her lips slightly pursed in concentration.For a moment, time seemed to stretch. He blinked rapidly, quickly looking away, feeling a strange heat creeping up the back of his neck. Why was he even thinking about this? What was this odd feeling?Tom tried to refocus on his notes, but it was like her presence was just... too present. Why was he noticing these things?Unable to shake the irritation building in him, he blurted out, “I heard you’re going to the Slug Club with Malfoy this weekend. He wouldn't shut up about it.”Cordelia raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sudden mention. “What?”“Slug Club,” Tom clarified. “Malfoy’s been going on about it. Says you’re his date.”Cordelia laughed lightly, shaking her head. “It’s not like that.”Tom leaned back slightly, eyes glinting as he studied her. “I’m sure,” he replied nonchalantly, though his tone betrayed a hint of something else. “But I’m sure I’ll see you there as well. Slughorn would never have a meeting without inviting his star pupil.”She shot him a wry smile. “I’m not surprised though. You’re practically his favourite.”Tom’s lips quirked up slightly. “It’s good to be appreciated.”Cordelia stared at him, then smirked. “I’m sure it is.”A silence fell between them, and Tom’s thoughts wandered back to what she had said earlier about Malfoy. As much as he didn’t care about her going with him, there was something strange about hearing it out loud. He shook it off quickly, focusing back on the task at hand.The conversation shifted back to their potion theory, but Tom couldn’t help but wonder about Cordelia’s response. Was she dismissing it all just to keep him at arm’s length? He wasn’t sure, but it was becoming a bit more... intriguing. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ Later that evening, Cordelia sat cross-legged on her bed, flipping through her Potions notes. Ivy and Freya were perched on the edge of her bed, gossiping animatedly about their day, when Cordelia casually dropped the news.“So, I’m going to the Slug Club on Friday,” she said, almost nonchalantly, though she couldn’t help the small grin that tugged at her lips. “And I’m going with Malfoy.”Ivy’s eyes widened in surprise. “You are? That’s amazing! Malfoy? Really?”Freya gasped, her voice filled with disbelief. “Cordelia, that’s huge! How did that even happen?”Cordelia shrugged, trying to sound casual. “It’s no big deal. Just another event. Slughorn invited me, and Malfoy tagged along.”“Well, I think that’s incredibly exciting!” Ivy exclaimed, her tone high-pitched with excitement. “You’re going to have so much fun, I bet!”Cordelia rolled her eyes but smiled. “I’m going for the food, honestly. No other reason.”Freya leaned in with a grin. “Are you sure? You’re going with Malfoy. I bet he’s got a little charm up his sleeve.”Cordelia sighed, pretending to be annoyed. “Let’s not make it more than it is. It’s just a party.”The girls, of course, didn’t stop. They kept teasing her, imagining all sorts of scenarios, making the most of her casual statement. Eventually, the teasing turned into more playful chatter.“Well, if you see him trying to charm you too much, just remember that you’ve got us to tell about it afterward,” Ivy teased.Cordelia laughed lightly, leaning back on her pillows, letting herself relax for a moment before continuing. “Actually, I had a more interesting run-in yesterday. During patrol—guess who I found?”Freya raised an eyebrow, not missing a beat. “Who?”“I found Quinn and some girl in a broom closet,” Cordelia said with a smirk. “And let's just say they were having way too much fun for my liking. Half-naked, too.”Ivy burst out laughing, clutching her stomach. “Cordelia! You caught them like that?”“Yeah,” Cordelia said, shrugging. “It was a mess. But hey, at least I got some entertainment.”The girls couldn’t stop laughing, teasing her about it for a while longer, the conversation light and carefree as they prepared for bed. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ 
Cordelia’s mind drifted into darkness, the familiar weight of her dreams pulling her deeper. She wandered through the winding halls of Hogwarts, the stone walls closing in, narrowing until she felt the air thick with an unnerving presence. There was someone ahead, a figure standing just out of sight, tall and commanding.

"You’ve been walking toward me for so long," the figure's voice echoed, smooth and low, like a whisper only meant for her. It was strangely familiar, but she couldn’t place it.

“You’ve always been a part of my plans,” the voice continued, as though it were a secret they shared. “I’ve waited for this moment—for you.”

Her pulse quickened, the words heavy in the air around her. She took a step forward but couldn’t move closer, like an invisible barrier held her in place. The figure turned then, and the red gleam of his eyes struck her like a bolt. The intensity of his gaze froze her to the spot.

“You can’t escape what’s already been set in motion,” he said softly, his voice wrapping around her like a dark melody. His gaze lingered, almost possessive. "You were meant to be mine."

A shiver ran through her as a heavy, serpentine hiss echoed through the room. A massive snake, its body coiling and uncoiling, slithered forward from the shadows, its eyes fixated on her. The figure stepped aside, his dark presence towering over her.

"You’re mine," he repeated, but this time, there was something darker in his voice, a raw, desperate intensity that sent a chill through her bones. The snake’s cold gaze never wavered, its coils tightening around her.

Just as the serpent lunged, everything snapped to black.
 Cordelia awoke with a start, heart pounding, her mind racing from the unsettling dream. The early morning light barely filtered through the curtains, but it was enough to show her the darkness in her room. She lay there for a moment, trying to calm her breathing, but the unease lingered. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, that the dreams weren’t just dreams.Unable to go back to sleep, she slipped out of bed and dressed in the silence of the morning. Her thoughts were scattered, but one idea kept pushing through the noise: her parents. Maybe they would understand something she couldn’t.Sitting at the desk in the quiet of the Ravenclaw dormitory, she pulled out parchment and began to write. 
Dear Mother and Father,

I hope this letter finds you both well. I know it’s been a while since I last wrote, but something is troubling me, and I need to share it with you.

Lately, I’ve been having strange dreams—vivid ones that feel almost too real. There’s always a figure, a dark presence, and it’s as if they know me, as if they’re waiting for me. Each time, I wake up in a cold sweat, feeling as though something is watching me even when I’m awake. I don’t know why, but I feel this constant pull, as though I’m being drawn into something I can’t escape.

Please, if you know anything—anything at all—about these kinds of dreams, or if you’ve ever experienced something like this, I beg you to tell me. I don’t know why, but I feel like these dreams are connected to something far bigger than I can understand right now.

I’ll be waiting for your reply.

With love,
Cordelia
 She reread the letter a few times before folding it carefully. There was a knot in her stomach, but she couldn’t ignore the feeling that this was the only way to understand what was happening.After slipping on a coat to ward off the morning chill, she made her way to the owlery. The corridor was silent, the castle still asleep as she moved through it. When she arrived, she selected a large, brown owl from the many roosting there and tied the letter to its leg. As she released it, the owl’s wings beat loudly in the still air before it disappeared into the early morning sky.As she watched the owl fly off into the distance, Cordelia couldn’t shake the feeling that she had just set something in motion, something she wasn’t sure she was ready for. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ Friday arrived with a blur of classes, and by the time the evening came, Cordelia was more than ready to escape the bustle of the day. The anticipation of the Slug Club had her both excited and uneasy. The corridors were filled with students heading to their respective events, but Cordelia couldn't help feeling like tonight would bring something different.As Cordelia stepped into the dorm room later that evening, her friends immediately sprang into action. They had been eagerly awaiting the chance to help her get ready for the evening ahead.Freya was brushing out her hair and fussing over her makeup, and Ivy was giving final suggestions on her outfit.“You’re going to turn heads tonight, Cordelia,” Ivy said, stepping back to admire the completed look. Cordelia was wearing a deep emerald dress, tailored perfectly to her figure, with a hint of gold around the neckline. The fabric flowed elegantly, giving off a soft glow.“Wow,” Freya said with a smile, “even I’m a little jealous. Abraxas is going to have trouble keeping his eyes off you.”Cordelia rolled her eyes. “It’s just a party,” she said, though the slight flutter in her chest said otherwise.When she was finally ready, she stood before the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, and the light accentuated her features perfectly. Freya smiled at her. “You look stunning. You’ve got this.” ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ As Cordelia made her way down to the Ravenclaw common room, she was met with the sight of Abraxas standing near the entrance. He leaned against the stone pillar, looking every bit the charming Slytherin, a soft smirk playing on his lips.“Well, well,” Abraxas said, his eyes scanning her from head to toe. “I must say, you look... impressive. I almost feel underdressed next to you.”Cordelia grinned, feeling both pleased and a little embarrassed. “You look fine, Malfoy. Let’s just go before I change my mind about this ‘Slug Club’ nonsense.”Abraxas chuckled, offering her his arm. “I assure you, this will be more than just nonsense.”As they walked together, Cordelia felt a slight shift in the air. She knew her presence had probably caused a stir, and Abraxas was clearly enjoying the attention. The further they walked, the more Cordelia realized the night was about to be full of surprises. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ As they entered Slughorn's office, the atmosphere was warm and lively, filled with the mingling of students. Slughorn, ever the gracious host, caught sight of Cordelia and Abraxas and greeted them with a wide grin.“Ah, I see we have a couple tonight!” he said, his tone teasing. “Didn’t know you two were an item.”Cordelia’s face flushed as she began to protest, but Abraxas stepped in smoothly, “No problem at all, Professor. We’re just here to enjoy the evening.”With a wink, Abraxas guided Cordelia to a seat. She shot him a faux-annoyed look but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips.Slughorn continued to greet the guests, introducing various students from Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, and Hufflepuff.As Cordelia and Abraxas sat down at the table, he leaned in and whispered with a teasing grin, “I’m sure you’ll be the highlight of the night. I can already see how many people will be vying for your attention.”Cordelia rolled her eyes but couldn’t help but laugh. “Please, you’re only saying that because you want to keep my attention to yourself.”Abraxas grinned, a twinkle in his eye. “Guilty as charged.”Meanwhile, across the table, Tom kept a subtle watch, his gaze flickering between Cordelia and Abraxas, trying to overhear their conversation without appearing obvious.Slughorn’s voice boomed again, “Now, Cordelia, do tell us a bit about yourself!”Cordelia’s cheeks flushed slightly as she stood up, suddenly feeling the weight of everyone’s attention on her. “Well... um, I’m Cordelia Blackwood. I’ve always been interested in magical law, and after I leave Hogwarts, I hope to become an Auror. I... I want to help protect people from dark magic and evil wizards like Grindelwald,” she said, her voice quieter than usual, yet resolute.The room grew quieter for a moment, Slughorn nodding enthusiastically. “A future Auror! Excellent! It’s always wonderful to see young talent with such noble aspirations.”After her introduction, Abraxas leaned in, his voice playful. “Well, well, Cordelia. Already making an impression. I knew you were destined for greatness.”Cordelia chuckled nervously, but her thoughts wandered back to Tom. Despite his casual demeanor, his gaze remained fixed on her, the weight of it sending a slight shiver down her spine.As the evening went on, the conversation turned lighter, and soon the Knights began talking to her, mentioning the incident with Quinn Fawley and how much fun they’d had teasing him. Laughter filled the air as they recounted the ridiculousness of the situation.“You really had him rattled, Cordelia,” Corvus said with a sly grin. “I’ve never seen him so... flustered.”Avery chuckled. “You’ve definitely earned yourself a spot in our history books. Fawley will never live it down.”Cordelia smiled, feeling the warmth of their camaraderie. For a moment, the tension seemed to fade, and she actually felt at ease among them. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ As the evening continued, Cordelia found herself in a light conversation with the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, who was surprisingly easy to talk to. They bonded over their shared ambition to work in magical law, especially about becoming Aurors, and Cordelia found his passion for Quidditch combined with his interest in her career path oddly charming.As Cordelia laughed at the Quidditch captain’s comment about Aurors, she could feel his gaze lingering just a bit too long. “So, you’re planning to save the wizarding world one criminal at a time? Impressive,” he said with a flirtatious smile, leaning in closer.Cordelia chuckled, leaning back slightly. “Someone’s got to keep the peace.”Before she could say anything else, Abraxas appeared out of nowhere, his voice sharp. “Cordelia, I think we should be moving along now.”Cordelia blinked in surprise, glancing up at him. “Abraxas—”“You’ve had enough Quidditch talk for one night,” he interrupted, his hand slipping around her waist as he gently guided her away. “Time to let you get back to your real friends.”Cordelia raised an eyebrow, sensing the undercurrent of possessiveness in his tone. “And you’re my real friend now?”Abraxas gave her a sly grin. “I’m just making sure you’re not distracted. The night’s still young, and I’m not done enjoying your company.”Cordelia rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll take what I can get.”As they walked back toward the group, Cordelia heard the Quidditch captain’s voice calling after them, but Abraxas didn’t look back. He led her straight to the Knights, his posture confident, almost possessive.“Having fun?” he teased her, his voice light, but the way he held her close felt possessive, a reminder of just who she was with.Cordelia shot him a playful look. “I was perfectly fine without your interference.”“Oh, I know,” Abraxas replied, his tone slightly smug. “But I’d prefer you with me, where I can keep an eye on you.”Cordelia shook her head, half amused, half annoyed. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ As the group made their way down the hallway, the sound of their footsteps echoing softly in the quiet, Cordelia suddenly froze. She glanced down at her empty hands, her stomach sinking as she realized she’d left her purse in Slughorn’s office."I’ll go get it," Abraxas offered without missing a beat.She shook her head, quickly turning back to him. “No, it’s fine. I’ll get it.”Cordelia paused, glancing back at him, feeling a burst of confidence. She turned back to him with a playful grin and, before he could react, placed a quick, almost teasing kiss on his cheek."Thanks for making the night bearable, Malfoy," she said softly.Abraxas stood frozen for a moment, his usual smugness faltering. His cheeks flushed a faint pink, and he awkwardly cleared his throat. "You—you’re welcome, Cordelia," he muttered, clearly not expecting such an unexpected gesture.Cordelia smirked and walked away, leaving him to fumble with words behind her. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ Cordelia stood just outside Slughorn’s office, her heart still racing from the night’s events. She had just parted ways with Abraxas, her mind still spinning from their playful exchange, when a voice from inside caught her attention.“Look sharp, Tom, don’t be caught out of bed after hours.”Slughorn’s voice rang out, but Cordelia stayed still, her curiosity getting the better of her.“Is something on your mind, Tom?” Slughorn asked, his tone slightly amused.“Yes, sir. You see, I couldn’t think of anyone else to go to… the other professors, well, they’re not like you… they might misunderstand.” Tom’s voice was unusually soft, almost hesitant.“Go on,” Slughorn urged, intrigued.“I was in the library the other night, in the restricted section, and I read something rather odd about a bit of rare magic. I thought perhaps you could illuminate me…”“It’s called, as I understand it, a Horcrux,” Tom’s voice lingered in the air, his words slow and deliberate.“I beg your pardon?” Slughorn sounded shocked, but there was a slight tremor in his voice now.“Horcrux. I came across the term while reading, but I didn’t fully understand it,” Tom continued, his voice calm yet insistent.Cordelia’s stomach dropped as she slowly inched closer, standing frozen just outside the door. Her hand instinctively clutched the edge of her robe, a shiver running through her. The weight of the conversation started to hit her. What on earth was a Horcrux? And why did it sound so... wrong?Slughorn’s voice faltered slightly. “I’m not sure what you were reading, Tom, but this is very dark stuff... very dark indeed.”“Which is why I came to you,” Tom said simply, his voice steady, though there was an edge to it.A chill ran down Cordelia’s spine as Slughorn finally responded. “A Horcrux is an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul,” Slughorn explained, his voice wavering between fascination and fear.Cordelia’s mind raced, trying to grasp what she was hearing. A piece of one’s soul? She felt the room spin. Her breathing quickened, but she couldn’t move.“But I don’t understand how that works, sir,” Tom’s calm voice continued.“One splits one’s soul and hides part of it in an object. By doing so, you are protected should you be attacked and your body destroyed.”Cordelia’s hand flew to her mouth in a panic, a whisper of horror leaving her lips. What kind of magic could do such a thing?“Protected?” Tom asked, his tone dangerously curious.“Part of your soul that is hidden lives on. In other words, you cannot die,” Slughorn explained, now leaning forward, his voice tense with concern.“And how does one split his soul, sir?” Tom’s voice was almost a whisper, as if savouring the information.“I think you already know the answer to that, Tom.” Slughorn’s voice was low, warning him.“Murder,” Tom said flatly, as if the word didn’t carry the weight it should.“Yes, killing rips the soul apart,” Slughorn said with a deep breath. “It’s a violation against nature.”“Can you only split the soul once? For instance, seven times?” Tom’s voice dropped even lower, as if testing the limits.“Seven?! Merlin’s beard, Tom…” Slughorn sounded genuinely concerned now. “Isn’t it bad enough to consider killing one person, but seven pieces of a soul?”“This is all hypothetical, isn’t it, Tom? All academic?” Slughorn tried to laugh it off, but it was strained.“Of course, sir. It’ll be our little secret,” Tom replied, his voice almost amused.Cordelia stood frozen, a cold sweat breaking out on her skin. This is real, she thought. She had to be hearing this wrong. It couldn’t be true. But Tom’s steady voice, Slughorn’s uncomfortable responses—they all pointed to something far darker than she had imagined.Tom’s voice suddenly cut through her thoughts, sending a chill down her spine: “Interesting, isn’t it? The lengths some will go to for immortality. It’s almost... tempting, don’t you think?”A shudder ran through Cordelia. She had to leave. Now. But before she could move, Tom’s footsteps sounded just outside the door.She quickly stepped back, her heart pounding in her chest. As the door swung open, she quickly composed herself and looked up, feigning a casual expression as she met Tom’s eyes.Tom’s gaze flickered over her, his lips curling into a slight, unreadable smile. He said nothing but didn’t look away for a moment too long. His eyes darkened ever so slightly, and Cordelia instinctively took a step back.“I didn’t hear you coming, Blackwood,” he said with cool nonchalance.Cordelia nodded quickly, trying to steady her breath. “I, uh, just... I was about to knock,” she stammered, her voice sounding a little too high-pitched.Cordelia took a deep breath, forcing herself to sound calm. “I, uh, forgot my purse,” she muttered, trying to act nonchalant. “I’ll just grab it quickly.”Tom’s eyes narrowed slightly, but his expression remained composed. “I’ll accompany you to the Tower,” he said, his voice calm but firm, almost as if it were a statement, not a suggestion.Cordelia hesitated, a wave of unease washing over her. She didn’t want to be alone with him, but she couldn’t find the courage to refuse.“I’d rather go alone,” she said quickly, but Tom was already stepping forward, a barely perceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips.“I insist,” he replied, his eyes flickering with something unreadable, though his voice was still as smooth as ever.As they walked, Cordelia couldn’t shake the feeling that Tom was paying more attention to her than usual. His gaze, though cool and composed, seemed to pierce through her, like he knew something was off. But he didn’t speak, merely walking beside her with an unsettling calm.Despite herself, Cordelia felt a slight chill run down her spine, her earlier terror still lingering. She tried to steady her breath, hoping the quickened pace would outrun the racing thoughts in her mind. Tom, ever observant, noticed the small shift in her behaviour, though he said nothing—his thoughts unreadable, for now.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Chapter 7

The dormitory was dimly lit, the flickering greenish glow from the Black Lake casting ripples across the walls. Tom Riddle sat propped against the headboard of his bed, a thick tome resting in his lap. His face was composed, a faint curve to his lips betraying the satisfaction coursing through him. The information Slughorn had provided about Horcruxes had been more enlightening than he’d hoped. The path ahead was clearer now—dangerous, yes, but tantalizingly within reach. For a rare moment, Tom felt content.That contentment didn’t last long.“Gentlemen, I believe I might just be winning her over,” Abraxas announced from across the room, his tone dripping with smugness. Tom’s sharp ears caught every word, though he didn’t lift his gaze from the book.“What’s this about?” Cain Avery asked, lounging on his bed, clearly intrigued.“Cordelia,” Abraxas replied, sitting up straighter. “The Ravenclaw gem herself. Kissed me on the cheek tonight, right outside Slughorn’s office. Said I made the night ‘bearable.’” He grinned, leaning back with an air of victory. “I’m telling you, it’s only a matter of time before this turns into something real.”“Look at you,” Quinn Fawley teased, tossing a pillow across the room that Abraxas batted away. “Already planning the wedding?”“I’ll have you know,” Abraxas shot back, grinning, “I’m making actual progress here. Unlike some of you.”“Progress?” Avery smirked. “Sounds like she’s throwing you scraps.”“You’re just jealous,” Abraxas quipped, the warmth in his voice genuine, though his smirk carried its usual edge.Tom’s grip on his book tightened. He had been the one to assign Abraxas this task, to keep an eye on Cordelia by whatever means necessary—befriend her, charm her, seduce her if needed. Yet hearing about it now, framed in Abraxas’s triumphant tone, stirred an unexpected irritation. His focus drifted from the carefully crafted words on the page to the growing noise of his dormmates’ laughter and banter.“Seriously,” Nott chimed in, “if this works out, maybe she’ll stop rolling her eyes at you in class.”More laughter erupted, and Tom slammed his book shut with a sharp snap. The room fell silent as all eyes turned toward him. His expression was calm, but his jaw was taut, and his dark eyes glinted with annoyance.“Enough,” Tom said coldly, his voice cutting through the lingering amusement like a blade. “I don’t care about your trivial exploits. Go to bed and spare the rest of us your incessant drivel.”Abraxas raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the venom in Tom’s tone. “Someone’s touchy tonight,” he muttered, though his usual confidence faltered under Tom’s glare.“I mean it,” Tom continued, his tone as icy as the dungeon air. “If I hear one more word, there will be consequences. And believe me, they won’t be pleasant.”The room stilled, tension hanging heavy in the air. Slowly, the knights settled back into their respective beds, their murmurs fading to silence.Tom exhaled sharply, reopening his book. But the words that had previously fueled his satisfaction now swirled meaninglessly on the page. His irritation lingered, gnawing at him. He couldn’t explain why Abraxas’s words had unsettled him so much, but the thought of Cordelia and the faint kiss that had clearly sent Abraxas into a frenzy refused to leave his mind.Shaking his head, Tom turned the page, forcing his thoughts back to the dark knowledge he was pursuing. Feelings, after all, were distractions—ones he had no intention of entertaining. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The faint light of dawn filtered through the curtains of the Ravenclaw dormitory as Cordelia stirred awake. A persistent tapping at the window drew her attention. Groggily, she sat up, her blanket pooling at her waist, and squinted at the source. An elegant barn owl perched on the ledge, a letter tied neatly to its leg. Recognizing the family owl, Alaric, she hurried to open the window, letting in the cool morning breeze.“Morning, Alaric,” she murmured, untying the letter. She grabbed a small treat from her bedside table—a habit from years of receiving her parents' correspondences—and held it out to him. Alaric nipped her fingers affectionately before flying off.Cordelia sat cross-legged on her bed, the parchment resting in her lap. She glanced briefly at Ivy and Freya, still sound asleep, before breaking the wax seal. Her mother’s elegant handwriting unfurled across the page. 
Dearest Cordelia,

Your recent letter has left us deeply concerned yet resolute in our decision to share something we’ve kept hidden, hoping it might never come to bear.

On your mother’s side of the family, there is a history—a gift, or perhaps a curse—that appears sporadically in the daughters. You are a Seer, Cordelia. The visions you have described are not merely dreams; they are glimpses of possible futures.

Understand this: visions are not absolute. The future is malleable, influenced by countless choices. However, these dreams are significant, and ignoring them can be dangerous.

We are sorry for keeping this from you. We only wanted to protect you from the burden of such knowledge. But now that it has manifested, we are here to support you in understanding and controlling it.

Please write back if you need guidance. Above all, know that we love you dearly.

With all our love,

Mother and Father.
Cordelia stared at the letter, her heart thundering in her chest. The word Seer felt foreign, heavy. A mix of disbelief, fear, and anger churned inside her. Her parents had kept this from her? The visions, the cryptic dreams—they weren’t just figments of her imagination but glimpses into something far greater and far darker.She folded the letter with trembling hands, her mind racing. Ivy stirred in her bed, mumbling something incoherent before rolling over, but Cordelia was already pulling on her robes. She couldn’t sit still. She needed answers. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The library was quiet, the usual morning bustle of students not yet begun. Cordelia pushed through the heavy wooden doors, her footsteps echoing on the stone floor. Madam Pince raised an eyebrow at her but said nothing as Cordelia headed straight for the shelves marked Divination.Her fingers brushed the spines of ancient tomes, their gilded titles shimmering in the dim light. She pulled out a book titled The Art of Seeing: A Seer’s Guide and another, Dreams and Prophecies of the Gifted.Settling into a secluded corner, she opened the first book, her eyes darting over the introduction.Excerpt from The Art of Seeing
"The power of sight manifests differently in every Seer. Some experience visions through dreams, while others have waking premonitions. It is essential to approach these visions with caution. They often present symbolic interpretations of reality, making it imperative to develop skills in interpretation."
Cordelia frowned, frustration bubbling as the text became denser with theories and history. She shoved the book aside and picked up the second one. Flipping through the pages, she found a section titled Dreams as Foresight. 
Excerpt from Dreams and Prophecies of the Gifted

“A dream-vision is often triggered by proximity to significant magical events or individuals. These visions can be cryptic, and their accuracy depends on the Seer’s ability to interpret subtle details. Importantly, a Seer’s visions are not guarantees—they reveal possibilities, not certainties."
Cordelia was lost in her reading, fingers brushing through her hair as her brow furrowed deeper. Tom Riddle’s gaze flicked to the spines of the books spread before her: Dreams and Prophecies of the Gifted, The Art of Seeing, and Visions Beyond Time. His smirk faded, replaced by a shadow of intrigue.“Divination?” he said, his voice laced with curiosity, though carefully masked by casual interest. “I didn’t think someone as pragmatic as you would dabble in such... speculative magic.”Cordelia stiffened but didn’t look up. “It’s research,” she said shortly, flipping a page with unnecessary force.“Research,” Tom repeated, his tone contemplative. His eyes narrowed slightly as he scanned the titles again, the pieces in his mind beginning to shift. “Curious area of study for a Ravenclaw. I would’ve pegged you for something more concrete—like Arithmancy or enchanting theory.”Cordelia glanced up then, her irritation barely concealed. “I wasn’t aware my reading habits were of such interest to you, Riddle.”“Merely an observation,” he replied, tilting his head. “After all, Divination isn’t exactly known for its academic rigor. It’s... interpretive at best, unreliable at worst.”“And yet,” Cordelia said, her tone sharp, “it’s part of the Hogwarts curriculum. But then again, I doubt you’re one to follow rules unless it suits you.”Tom’s lips twitched, a flicker of amusement breaking through. “Touché.” His gaze lingered on her a moment longer, as though trying to extract her secrets through sheer force of will, before he straightened. “Enjoy your... research, Blackwood.”As he turned to leave, his curiosity burned. Divination was a field most students disregarded as whimsical nonsense. That Cordelia was delving into it with such fervor piqued his suspicion. What exactly was she trying to uncover?For now, he let it lie, though the image of the titles etched themselves into his memory. Cordelia Blackwood, it seemed, was more than just an exceptional student. She was a puzzle, and Tom had every intention of solving her. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The Divination classroom smelled faintly of incense and parchment, the dim light of the late afternoon filtering through the veiled windows. Professor Adelaide Mulcahy, a woman of calm authority, sat behind her desk, her sharp blue eyes focused on the ancient texts before her.Cordelia hesitated before entering Professor Mulcahy's office, feeling the weight of her curiosity and the need to be cautious. She knew that being too direct would raise questions she wasn’t ready to answer.“Professor,” Cordelia began, her voice calm, “I’ve been reading some of the texts on Divination, and I was wondering… are there specific signs in dreams that might indicate important events or shifts? Something beyond just random images?”Mulcahy looked up from her notes, studying Cordelia with an unreadable expression. “Dreams can certainly point to something significant,” she replied. “Sometimes, the mind reflects emotions or thoughts you’re not fully aware of during the day. But it’s the recurring symbols that tend to hold more weight.”Cordelia leaned forward slightly, interested. “So, if someone were to have a recurring dream about an event they don’t fully understand, would that suggest some deeper meaning?”Professor Mulcahy nodded slowly. “Possibly. But you must be careful. The mind has its ways of playing tricks, especially when one is under stress. Not every recurring dream is prophetic—some are just a reflection of one’s fears or desires.”Cordelia thought for a moment before asking, “And what if someone felt a deep connection to those dreams, like they could sense that they were more than just random?”The professor’s gaze softened, almost knowingly. “Then it’s worth investigating further. But remember, Miss Blackwood, interpreting dreams isn’t always straightforward. What feels like a vision might just be the mind’s way of processing the impossible.”Cordelia nodded, her brow furrowing in thought. “Thank you, Professor. I appreciate the insight.” ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The chatter at the Ravenclaw table was lively as Cordelia, Ivy, and Freya sat together, talking about everything from the upcoming Quidditch match to recent homework assignments. Their conversation was interrupted only by the occasional laughter or a comment from the others around them.“I’m telling you, Dumbledor’s tests are getting harder,” Liam, one of the Ravenclaw Quidditch players, muttered. “He’s throwing in random theory now. I can barely keep up with the practicals.”“You should study more,” said a voice from behind them. Cordelia turned to see the Ravenclaw Prefect, Thaddeus, who was always studying but never seemed to break a sweat. “The tests are straightforward if you actually pay attention in class.”“I’m not worried,” Ivy replied, rolling her eyes. “You’ll still ace everything, Thaddeus. You’re the golden boy of Ravenclaw.”Freya laughed. “Yeah, no one can compete with that brain of yours.”“I don’t know,” Liam said with a playful grin. “I think I could take you both on in a trivia contest and win.”“Oh please,” Cordelia said with a smirk. “You’d be lucky if you got half the answers right.”The group chuckled as they continued to talk, laughing at the friendly banter.Before anyone could say more, the sound of footsteps on the stone floor made them turn toward the front of the hall. Headmaster Dippet was standing to make an announcement, his large figure dwarfing the podium as he cleared his throat.The students quieted down, and Dippet smiled, his round face breaking into a grin as he spoke. “Attention, students! I have an exciting announcement to make! Before the winter break, we will be hosting a grand masquerade ball in the Great Hall. It will be a night filled with music, dancing, and mystery. I expect all of you to attend, and I look forward to seeing the creativity in your masks and outfits. You’ll receive more details soon!Cordelia looked around the table. The air immediately changed as the Ravenclaw students broke into excited chatter.“A ball? A masquerade ball?” Ivy said, her eyes wide with delight. “I’ve always wanted to go to one of those! This is going to be so much fun.”Claire’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, I’ll have to get the perfect dress for it! I wonder if I can get something designed to fit the Ravenclaw colours—subtle but elegant, of course.”Liam, who was usually laid-back, suddenly got animated. “Masks! I’ve never worn one, but this will be fun. We should all go together, it’ll be great!”“We’ll need a date for it, too,” Freya said mischievously, nudging Cordelia. “Are you going to ask someone, Cordelia?”“I don’t know,” Cordelia replied, a little thrown off by the sudden excitement. “I guess we’ll see. It’s just a ball, right? Not like we need to make it a huge deal.”But the others were already deep in conversation, planning outfits and debating which Quidditch player would make the best date. Ivy leaned in, whispering to Cordelia. “I know who I’ll be going with, but don’t worry, I won’t steal your date.”Cordelia rolled her eyes. “Not like I’ve got anyone in mind, anyway.”As the chatter swirled around them, the excitement for the masquerade grew. Even Thaddeus, the ever-diligent Prefect, couldn’t help but look eager. The Slytherin table was full of excitement as the announcement of the masquerade ball settled in. Everyone had their own plans in mind, and chatter filled the air. Nott leaned over, speaking to Avery as he picked at his food.“Think I’ll ask my girlfriend to the ball,” he said, a grin on his face. “It’s about time.”“Classic,” Avery said, taking a swig of his drink. “You think she’ll say yes?”"Why wouldn't she?" Nott shrugged. “Maybe I’ll surprise her with something special.”Quinn, still smirking, interjected. “I’m debating between that Hufflepuff girl I was caught with last week, or that Slytherin from last month. What do you think?”Richard Carter, the Quidditch captain, leaned forward with a smug grin, enjoying the attention he was getting from his friends at the table. "You know," he began, looking toward Abraxas with a sneer, "I’ve been thinking about who I might take to the ball. I’m considering Cordelia Blackwood. I’m sure she’d look incredible dressed up for me, maybe even give her a little taste of what it’s like to be with someone who knows how to please her."“You know, she’s always got her nose buried in books, but I can’t imagine she’s too much of a prude once she’s out of those things. Maybe I’ll show her what a real man can do. Could teach her to have some fun for once. I’m sure she'd like that...”He chuckled darkly, his gaze lingering on Abraxas. "Imagine her under the moonlight... all that raven hair and those legs... I bet she'd be more than happy to come with me. A real change of pace from the books and all that serious nonsense she’s always carrying around.”“That tight little body of hers probably looks even better when she’s out of that boring uniform. Wonder if she’s as good in bed as she looks... I mean, all that studying’s gotta be for something, right? I could show her how to relax a bit. I bet she’d enjoy it.”His gaze lingered, and the words just dripped with crude, predatory intent. “Maybe I’ll take her out, let her have a real good time for once. All those Ravenclaws are too uptight, but I’m sure with a bit of coaxing, she’d loosen up.”Abraxas clenched his fists under the table, his face reddening with anger. Before he could stand and make a move, Corvus Lestrange's voice cut through the air like ice."Enough," Corvus said, his voice cold and even. With a flick of his wand, Carter’s words were silenced. His mouth hung open, but no sound came out."Keep your filthy thoughts to yourself, Carter," Corvus added, his eyes narrowing. The rest of the group watched, taken aback by Corvus’s swift action, while Carter could do nothing but glare, impotent and humiliated.Abraxas finally let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, his anger momentarily defused, but he still glared at Carter with intensity. Corvus, ever the stoic protector, had silenced the captain without breaking a sweat."Much better," Abraxas muttered under his breath, trying to calm himself.The tension settled for a moment, but Carter shot them a venomous look, making it clear the confrontation was far from over. The knights continued their conversation, but the dark undercurrent between them remained. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The library was quieter than usual, just the faint rustle of turning pages and the distant scratching of quills. Cordelia sat at her usual spot, her head bent over "Seers of the Ages: The Burden of Sight," her brows furrowed in concentration. Her fingers trailed absently along the parchment as she read, her mind struggling to grasp the cryptic descriptions of prophetic dreams.Her eyes darted up toward the ceiling, letting out a quiet sigh. “Burden of sight, huh? More like the burden of migraines,” she muttered to herself, rolling her shoulders to ease the stiffness. She reached into her bag to pull out a fresh piece of parchment to jot down notes, but her fingers brushed against something... strange.Her brow furrowed as she fished it out. It was a small folded piece of parchment, crumpled but precise, as if it had been intentionally hidden. Her heart gave a slight jolt. Had she left a note for herself? No, she’d never crumple it like this.Carefully, she unfolded it, her eyes scanning the short, jagged message written in sharp black ink.

“Stop digging where you don’t belong.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she stared, unblinking. Her eyes darted around the room, scanning every shadowed corner of the library. The low flickering lanterns cast long shadows against the shelves, making the spaces between the bookcases look like endless doorways into darkness. Was someone watching her right now? Her pulse quickened, and her grip on the parchment tightened.Her first instinct was to glance at the entrance. Empty. Her next was to glance at the few students seated nearby. Two Ravenclaws were hunched over a shared textbook, oblivious. A Hufflepuff prefect scribbled notes on a long scroll. None of them seemed interested in her.
No one could have slipped this into my bag… right?
Her eyes returned to the message. Her fingers hovered over the ink, as though touching it might reveal something more. "Stop digging where you don’t belong." The words were direct, purposeful, and unmistakably threatening. Her mind flickered to all the things she’d been "digging into" lately. The Chamber of Secrets. The monster. The visions...
No one knows about that. No one could possibly know about that...
Her heart pounded against her ribs as she tried to steady her breathing. Who would do this? The obvious answer was Tom Riddle, but... no. He was meticulous, careful, always in control. If he wanted her to stop, he’d be more subtle, more manipulative. Not... this.Her eyes narrowed, and she folded the note carefully before slipping it into her pocket. Don’t overthink it, Cordelia. It’s probably some stupid prank. Just... a prank. But the tension in her chest didn’t loosen, and her fingers twitched as if they wanted to check the note again.
No one knew about her research. No one.
Except for... her gaze shifted, lips pressing into a thin line. Tom Riddle. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The crisp autumn air in the courtyard rustled the amber leaves scattered across the stone path, as Cordelia sat with Ivy and Freya, the three of them enjoying their brief break from classes.“I’m just saying,” Ivy said, biting into a croissant, “if I don’t get a dress with sleeves to the ball, I’ll hex someone. I’m not freezing for fashion.”Freya raised an eyebrow, sketching her latest design. “Then charm a blanket to look like velvet. Problem solved.”Cordelia smiled faintly, but her mind kept drifting back to the note she’d found in her bag earlier. Stop digging where you don’t belong. It felt like an omen.“Oi, Blackwood!” A familiar, sharp voice pulled her from her thoughts. She looked up to see Abraxas Malfoy strolling toward them, his hands tucked in his robe pockets, an easy smirk tugging at his lips.“Oh, joy,” she muttered, returning to her book. “What do you want, Malfoy? Shouldn’t you be terrorizing Gryffindors or something?”He strolled in with the easy grace of someone who owned the place, ignoring the looks from other Ravenclaw students. “I could be,” he replied, tilting his head. “But I thought I’d do something far more entertaining.”Cordelia glanced up, unimpressed. “Like wasting my time?”“More like inviting you to the Quidditch match this weekend,” he said, flashing that infuriating Malfoy grin.“Pass,” she said immediately, flipping a page in her book.Abraxas placed his hand firmly on top of her book, closing it with a soft thud. Her gaze slowly lifted to meet his.“Don’t be like that, Blackwood,” he said, voice smooth as silk. “I’m inviting you as my... personal guest.”Freya let out an exaggerated "Oooooh" sound, while Ivy gasped in mock surprise.“Shut up, Freya,” Cordelia grumbled, feeling warmth crawl up her neck.Her eyes narrowed, scanning his face for the catch. “And why would I want to do that?”“Because,” he leaned down, his voice low and infuriatingly charming, “you’ll miss the chance to see me absolutely humiliate Gryffindor.”“Ah, yes, your never-ending quest for validation,” she deadpanned.“Call it what you want,” he replied, grinning wider. “But I’d rather see you there, front and center.”She stared at him for a long moment, tapping her quill against the side of the book. “If I say yes, will you leave me alone?”He raised a brow, his grin morphing into a look of mock surprise. “If you say yes, I might even dedicate the win to you.”Her lips twitched in amusement. “Alright, Malfoy. I’ll be there. But if you lose, I’m hexing your broom.”“Deal,” he said, his eyes flicking to hers with something warmer than mischief.Cordelia turned to her friends, face warm with secondhand embarrassment. Freya was grinning like an idiot. “He’s obsessed with you,” she sang under her breath.“Shut. Up.”✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The stadium buzzed with energy. Green and silver flags clashed against the red and gold of Gryffindor, the crowd roaring with excitement. Cordelia sat on the edge of the stands, the cold November air biting at her cheeks as she pulled her coat tighter around herself.Her eyes followed the Slytherin team as they soared into the air, each figure mounted on sleek broomsticks. Abraxas was at the front, his posture sharp, his blonde hair glinting in the pale autumn sun. The stadium erupted with cheers from the Slytherin supporters.Beside her, Ivy and Freya sat bundled in scarves and gloves.“Okay, I’ll admit,” Ivy said, adjusting her scarf, “he looks good up there.”Cordelia scoffed, not looking away from Abraxas. “He always looks good up there. His head’s just as inflated as that Quaffle.”Freya grinned. “Funny, coming from someone who agreed to be his ‘personal guest’ today.”“Don’t start,” Cordelia muttered, pulling her scarf up higher.“Too late,” Freya teased. “He’s looking down here, you know. Smirking like he’s already won.”“Of course he is,” Cordelia muttered. “He’s Abraxas bloody Malfoy.”The whistle blew, and the match began.It was brutal from the start. The Gryffindor Chasers were relentless, darting past Slytherin defenses with sharp turns and feints, but the Slytherins were no pushovers. Every play was met with aggression and precision.Abraxas was a force of nature. He dove, twisted, and looped with startling precision, the Quaffle moving like an extension of his own body. Every goal he scored sent the Slytherin side of the stadium into a frenzy.“Ten points to Slytherin!” the announcer called. “Another brilliant goal from Abraxas Malfoy!”Cordelia found herself cheering before she realized it, her hands cupped around her mouth as she shouted, “About time, Malfoy!”He glanced at her mid-flight, his grin sharp as ever, and for a brief moment, he saluted her with two fingers before streaking back into the game.“You’re done for,” Ivy said, nudging her.“Don’t,” Cordelia muttered, hiding her flushed face in her scarf.Minutes later, the Gryffindor Seeker spotted the Snitch. Gasps and shouts echoed from both sides of the stadium as two blurs—red and green—hurtled after it. The Slytherin Seeker, Quinn Fawley reached out, fingers brushing gold—“SLYTHERIN WINS!”The Slytherin stands exploded with cheers. Green and silver banners waved wildly as students jumped up, clapping and shouting. Cordelia felt herself being tugged by Freya, her heart thudding from the adrenaline of the match.“Come on,” Freya said. “We’re going to the pitch!”“I’m not—”But it was too late. They were already moving with the crowd. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The Slytherin team was swarmed with excited fans, their cheers and shouts echoing through the pitch. Cordelia caught sight of Abraxas near the center, his broom slung over his shoulder, his blonde hair windswept but perfectly in place. The moment he spotted her, a grin spread across his face.“Blackwood,” he called, his voice loud over the cheering crowd. “Did you see that?”“I might have seen something,” she teased, making her way through the crowd. “Looked like you got lucky.”“Lucky?” He laughed, his eyes still wild with adrenaline. “That was skill, love.”Cordelia rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at her lips. “Don’t let it go to your head.”“Too late,” he said, dropping his broom to the ground.As if by instinct, she stepped forward and placed her hands on his chest, giving him a quick hug. Her head rested lightly against his shoulder, and for a moment, she stayed there, letting the warmth of his presence calm her racing heart.“You did good, Malfoy,” she murmured, her voice quieter than before.His breath caught for a moment, a small, surprised laugh escaping his lips. “Yeah?”“Yeah,” she replied, a small smile on her lips.Then, he leaned down slightly, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. The next moment, his lips found hers, and the kiss was fiery, unrestrained. His hand found its way to her waist, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss. Cordelia responded without thinking, her hands clutching the fabric of his robes, matching his passion. Everything around them felt like it vanished into thin air.Abraxas pulled away just enough to look at her, his grin still there, but now it felt more comfortable, like he had nothing left to prove.“You know,” he began, voice quieter now, “I think it’s clear enough what we are, right?”Cordelia raised an eyebrow, but there was a soft smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You want to make it official, Malfoy?”His grin widened, and he shrugged slightly, looking at her with an expression of quiet confidence. “Why not? I’m already kissing you, I might as well make it official.”Cordelia let out a small laugh, and without thinking too much about it, she nodded. “Alright, then. Official, I guess.”Abraxas’ smile stretched even further, the excitement in his eyes giving way to a quieter satisfaction. “Official.”He stepped closer again, taking her hand more firmly this time, as though marking their unspoken agreement. The crowd of celebrating Slytherins continued to cheer around them, but in that moment, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of them. No games, no questions—just the simplicity of knowing what they were now.“So, we’re really doing this, huh?” she asked, a teasing glint in her eye.“Seems like it,” Abraxas replied, his tone playful but warm. “You’re stuck with me now.”Cordelia laughed again, the sound light and free. “I guess I’ll survive.”A shout rang out from behind them.“Oi, Malfoy, stop snogging and celebrate properly!” Quinn’s voice rang through the crowd, followed by loud cheers and howls of laughter.“Shut up, Fawley!” Abraxas yelled, his face flushed with colour, but his grin never faltered Cordelia, meanwhile, buried her face in her hands. “I hate you all.”“No, you don’t,” Freya cackled from nearby. “You love us.”“Don’t start,” she muttered, the warmth in her chest lingering far longer than it should have.The celebration continued in full force, and as the team made their way back to the locker rooms, the crowd's energy only seemed to intensify.“Alright, alright,” Quinn said, wiping his brow dramatically as he turned to the girls. “Since we’re the victors, and you are obviously jealous of all this Quidditch glory,” he grinned, “why don’t you come join us for a victory party? Slytherin style. What do you say, Blackwood? Should we make it a night?”Cordelia blinked, then shot a glance at Abraxas. His grin was wide, and his eyes seemed to be silently asking for her to join in. She smiled, shaking her head, but finally agreed.“Fine,” she said, chuckling. “You talked me into it.” ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The warm glow of enchanted blue lanterns flickered softly against the stone walls of the Ravenclaw girls' dormitory. Ivy twirled a strand of her brown hair around her finger while eyeing Cordelia with an exasperated look.“Honestly, Cordelia, you’re dating Abraxas Malfoy now,” Ivy said, tugging lightly at the hem of Cordelia’s skirt. “You can afford to wear something a little more... bold.”“It’s already shorter than anything I’ve worn,” Cordelia grumbled, glancing down at the black skirt that ended just above her knees. She tugged it down instinctively. “I don’t see why it has to be ‘bold.’ It’s a party, not a fashion show.”Freya snorted from the bed, kicking her legs idly as she watched them. “Please, it’s not about the party, it’s about him. You’re his girlfriend now, love. Might as well own it.”"He's still Abraxas," Cordelia muttered, rolling her eyes but unable to fight off the small smile creeping onto her face."Exactly. He loves the attention," Freya said, tossing a pillow at her. "Don't deprive him."With a final glance in the mirror, Cordelia sighed, smoothing down her blouse and scarf. She supposed it would do. Her hair was loosely curled, framing her face in soft waves, and her light makeup gave her a natural, effortless look. It wasn’t extravagant, but she wasn’t trying to be.“Come on,” Ivy said, dragging her toward the door. “If we’re late, Abraxas is going to be unbearable.” ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The sound hit them first. Laughter, music, and the low hum of conversation echoed from the Slytherin common room. As soon as Cordelia stepped in, the warmth of the room wrapped around her like a cloak. Students crowded in small groups, their faces illuminated by the flickering light from the green-lit fireplace.Abraxas spotted her immediately. He was leaning against the wall with Quinn and Corvus, his gaze locked on her like a hawk spotting its prey. His eyes flicked down her form slowly, taking in her skirt, her blouse, her hair — and the smug grin that tugged at his lips was unmistakable.“Look who decided to show up,” Abraxas called, his voice loud enough to draw attention. He stepped away from the wall, making his way toward her."Yeah, yeah, keep your head on, Malfoy," Cordelia shot back, fighting the grin that threatened to break free.Freya leaned close to her ear. “Go on, girlfriend. He’s all yours.”Before Cordelia could respond, Freya and Ivy slipped away, heading toward the drinks. Cordelia sighed, but she didn’t have much time to dwell on it because Abraxas was already standing in front of her. He reached for her hand, bringing it to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers.“Evening, darling,” he said, his voice as smooth as silk.Cordelia raised a brow, pulling her hand back. “Evening,” she replied, hiding the warmth that rose to her cheeks.“Can I get you a drink?” Abraxas asked, his eyes softening just a bit.She nodded, smiling despite herself. “Sure, surprise me.”He flashed her a grin before turning toward the drinks. “Don’t go anywhere, love,” he called over his shoulder.While waiting, Cordelia moved toward the snack table, her fingers brushing over a tray of sweets when she felt the shift in the air behind her.“Well, well, well,” a familiar, cocky voice drawled from behind her. “If it isn’t the new Queen of Slytherin.”Her stomach twisted. Richard Carter.Cordelia glanced over her shoulder, and there he was, the Slytherin Quidditch captain, his grin sharp and his eyes dragging over her like she was some trophy he hadn’t yet claimed.“Carter,” she said flatly, turning her attention back to the sweets.“Not gonna lie, Blackwood,” he continued, stepping closer. “I didn’t think you had it in you. Snagging Malfoy like that. Impressive, really.”“Glad you approve,” she muttered, moving to step away, but his hand shot out, lightly gripping her wrist.“Don’t rush off,” he said, his grin growing more predatory. “I’m just saying — if you ever want an upgrade, I’d be happy to show you how it’s done.” His eyes drifted downward, his gaze disgustingly blatant.“Let go,” she snapped, yanking her arm free, her glare sharp as glass. “Before I hex you into next week.”“Ooh, scary,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just having fun, sweetheart. No need to be feisty.”“Back off, Carter,” a voice interrupted from behind them. Tom Riddle.Carter glanced back, his face shifting from cocky to cautious. Tom stepped into view, his eyes dark, his face calm but dangerous.“Is there a problem here?” Tom asked, his gaze fixed on Carter.“No problem, Riddle,” Carter muttered, backing away.Tom’s eyes didn’t move from Carter until he was gone. Then, his gaze slid to Cordelia. "You’re getting quite the attention tonight,” he remarked, his eyes narrowing.Cordelia shrugged, folding her arms. “Unwanted attention, as usual.”There was a pause before Tom’s lips curved into a smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “I heard about you and Malfoy,” he said casually, his tone too smooth. “An interesting match.”Cordelia shifted, feeling suddenly exposed. “It’s not that interesting.”Tom tilted his head, watching her for a moment longer than necessary. “I suppose we’ll see.”Before she could respond, a shout rang out from across the room.“Oi, you lot! Truth or Dare!” Quinn’s voice boomed, waving them over. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ Quinn spun an empty Butterbeer bottle in the center of the circle. The bottle clattered on the stone floor before slowing to a stop, the mouth pointing straight at Avery.“Oi, Avery!” Quinn grinned, eyes wild. “Truth or dare?”“Dare,” Avery said without a moment's hesitation.Quinn’s eyes lit up. “I dare you to serenade Flint with a love ballad.”The whole group roared with laughter as Lucinda Flint recoiled, looking horrified. “Don’t you dare, Fawley!”Avery stood, throwing his arms out dramatically. He dropped to one knee in front of Lucinda, his voice cracking into an exaggerated falsetto. “Oh Lucindaaaa, my darrrrling swannnn, I’d cross the seven seaaaaas for thee—”“GET AWAY FROM ME!” Lucinda screeched, swatting at him as the group dissolved into hysterics.“Brilliant,” Abraxas laughed, slapping Avery on the back when he sat down. “Should’ve gone for the kiss, mate.”"Alright, alright," Quinn Fawley said, clapping his hands like a ringleader. His grin was as wild as ever, eyes darting between his victims."Spin it, Fawley!" someone called from the back.The bottle spun, clattering noisily on the stone. Lucinda Flint leaned forward, eyes sharp like a hawk, hoping it wouldn’t land on her. Her "minions" sat beside her, giggling and glancing at the boys like they were prizes at a fair.The bottle stopped.It pointed at Abraxas."Ooooh, Malfoy," Avery grinned, leaning forward like a predator ready to pounce. "Truth or dare, pretty boy?"Abraxas ran a hand through his hair, clearly playing it up. "Dare, obviously. I’m not a coward."Quinn’s eyes lit up with the force of a lightning strike. "Alright, Malfoy. I dare you to…" He looked around the circle, grin wicked. "...Let Cordelia sit on your lap for the next two rounds. No complaints."The circle broke into roars of laughter."Quinn, you’re a menace," Freya howled, slapping the floor.“Coward's way out if you say no,” Quinn added, wiggling his brows.Abraxas rolled his eyes but smirked. His eyes met Cordelia’s. "Well, princess," he said, patting his lap like it was a throne. "Your seat awaits."Cordelia raised a brow, her arms crossed. “So, I’m supposed to reward you for taking a dare?”“Don’t flatter yourself,” he shot back. "I’m just following orders."Her eyes narrowed, but to everyone’s surprise, she stood. The crowd erupted into cheers and catcalls. She walked over with deliberate steps, brushing past Avery . She turned and sat—carefully—not on his lap but at an awkward angle on his knee, arms still crossed, like she was untouchable.Abraxas, on the other hand, grinned like he’d won the lottery, resting his hands on the floor behind him, looking far too pleased with himself. “Comfortable, love?” he asked, smug as ever."Not remotely," she shot back, but the corner of her mouth twitched like she was holding back a smile.The bottle spun again, faster this time. It wobbled, slowed, and stopped on...Lucinda Flint.The cheers grew louder."Truth or dare, Flint?" Avery asked, eyes practically glowing with malice.“Dare,” she said with a sneer, flicking her hair over her shoulder like she owned the place.“Alright, Flint,” Avery leaned forward like he was about to drop a bomb. “I dare you to tell us, loud and clear, who you’re hoping asks you to the ball.”The group exploded with “Ooooohs!” and laughter.Lucinda's eyes flicked toward Tom Riddle, but she masked it quickly, tossing her hair again like it didn’t matter. She tilted her head, eyes narrowing in defiance.“None of you,” she said coldly, looking at Avery like he was dirt on her shoe. “Because I have standards.”“Sure you do,” Quinn laughed, leaning on Corvus, who gave him a mild shove to stop him from spilling his drink.“Can we move on?” Lucinda snapped, crossing her arms. Her gaze flickered, just briefly, toward Tom, but he didn’t even look at her. He was watching the bottle, uninterested as ever.The circle’s energy was electric, fueled by firewhisky, pride, and something darker just beneath the surface. Everyone leaned forward, waiting for the final move, like spectators in an arena.The bottle spun with a metallic clatter, wobbling on the cold stone floor until it pointed directly at Cordelia Blackwood.“YES,” Quinn Fawley howled, pointing at her like she’d just been chosen as a sacrifice. “Alright, Blackwood. Truth or dare?”“Dare,” Cordelia said, chin lifted, eyes defiant."Atta girl," Avery chuckled, rubbing his hands together. "Make it something cruel, Fawley."Quinn’s grin widened slowly, his eyes flicking between Cordelia and Tom. He leaned back, arms stretched out behind him, like a king sitting on his throne. “I dare you…” he started, pausing for dramatic effect. Everyone leaned in.“…to whisper something in Tom Riddle’s ear that’ll make him lose his cool.”The silence was instant.A few snickers echoed from the circle, but most of them were holding their breath. Freya’s eyes widened, her mouth dropping open like a cartoon. Lucinda Flint's face twisted into a scowl so sharp it could have cut glass.Tom Riddle’s head tilted ever so slightly.He sat there, composed as always, his eyes on the bottle, like it hadn’t just placed him in the center of this moment. Slowly, his gaze shifted to Cordelia, his lips curling into something that wasn’t quite a smile.“Go on, Blackwood,” Quinn taunted, his voice syrupy with mischief. “Or are you afraid of the big bad Prefect?”Cordelia didn’t hesitate.She stood with the confidence of someone walking to their execution but refusing to bow her head. Her heart thudded in her chest, but she didn’t flinch. Her gaze stayed locked on Tom's, her steps slow, deliberate."Careful, Blackwood," Avery grinned, watching like it was his own personal theatre show.Cordelia ignored them all.Tom watched her with eyes half-lidded, his posture calm but unnervingly alert, as if he were waiting to see if she would dare to touch a live wire. His fingers drummed once on his knee, the only sign that he was aware of how close she was getting.Cordelia leaned down slowly, her lips hovering next to Tom’s ear, close enough that he could feel the warm brush of her breath. The whole room watched with anticipation, but in this moment, it felt like it was only the two of them.For a moment, she didn’t speak. Tom tilted his head slightly, his eyes half-lidded, his breathing so still it was like he’d forgotten how.Then, she whispered:“It must be exhausting, always pretending to be in control.”Her pause was deliberate. Calculated. Her lips brushed the shell of his ear.“I know what you did.”The air went cold.Tom went still.Not a flinch. Not a shift. Not even a breath.But his eyes… his eyes snapped to her, sharp as broken glass, like he could see straight through her skull and into her mind. His jaw tightened slowly.Cordelia pulled back, her eyes meeting his, her heart pounding like war drums. She didn’t look away. She refused to look away.Tom tilted his head, studying her like she was a puzzle piece that didn’t fit but was forcing itself into place anyway. A second too long passed.“I see,” he said quietly, his voice velvet-smooth but coiled like a snake ready to strike. "Bold words, Blackwood."Her eyes didn’t leave his. “Only if they're true, Riddle.”Her voice wasn’t as steady as she wanted it to be, but it didn’t matter. The message had been sent.Abraxas shifted behind her. His gaze flicked between Cordelia and Tom, lips pressed into a line. His eyes narrowed, and for the first time, his carefree mask cracked.The room wasn’t laughing anymore. It was quiet. Too quiet.“Alright, that’s enough,” Abraxas said, pushing himself to his feet. His grin was still there, but his eyes weren’t smiling. “She did the dare, didn’t she?” He reached for Cordelia’s wrist, pulling her down toward him, but his grip was just a little tighter than it should have been.“Relax, Malfoy,” Quinn teased, sensing the tension and feeding off it like a leech. “It’s just a game, mate.”“Shut it, Fawley.” Abraxas's tone wasn’t playful anymore. His eyes darted back to Riddle.But Tom wasn’t looking at him. Tom’s eyes were still on Cordelia.She dropped onto the floor beside Abraxas, shaking her head like nothing had happened, but her hands felt cold, and her pulse was racing. Freya leaned close to her.“What did you say?” Freya whispered, eyes wide with pure disbelief.“Nothing important,” Cordelia replied, her voice flat.Liar.The bottle spun again, and for the first time that night, Tom Riddle's gaze wasn’t on it.He sat back slowly, his eyes still on Cordelia like she was the only person in the room. His hand curled into a loose fist on his knee. His breathing was slow, controlled—too controlled.“Alright, enough of this,” Corvus said, his voice as sharp as ever. “It’s late. Everyone out unless you’re cleaning up.” He shot a look at Quinn, who groaned dramatically but didn’t argue.One by one, the group began to dissolve. Lucinda Flint and her friends left first, whispering to each other as they glanced back at Cordelia. Avery followed them, still chuckling to himself like he’d just seen the best show of his life.“Come on, Cordelia,” Freya said, grabbing her arm, her eyes darting between Tom and Abraxas. She didn’t like the energy hanging in the air. Neither did Cordelia.“Yeah,” Cordelia muttered, following her friend. She didn’t dare look back. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The Slytherin common room was eerily quiet. The crackle of the fire was the only sound as the glow of green flames flickered against the stone walls. The crowd had thinned to just the Knights of Walpurgis.Tom sat by the fire, his long legs stretched out in front of him, fingers resting lightly on the arm of the chair. He was still as death. His eyes were fixed on the flames, but his mind was somewhere far darker.Corvus sat on the armrest of a nearby chair, arms folded. His gaze flicked to Tom, then to Abraxas, like he was watching a bomb tick down. He knew what was coming.Abraxas sat with his head tilted back, lazily twirling his wand between his fingers, as if nothing was wrong. But his eyes kept darting toward Tom like he could feel the storm brewing. He knew.Avery and Dolohov sat nearby, both quiet. No jokes this time. Not tonight.Tom’s fingers drummed once on the chair’s arm. Once. Twice. Three times. Then they stopped. He slowly turned his head toward Abraxas, his eyes burning with a slow, steady rage.“I told you to control her,” Tom said, his voice calm but carrying the weight of thunder. “One simple task, Malfoy. One.”Abraxas straightened in his chair, his grin faltering. “She’s not a dog, Riddle. She’s—”“SILENCE.”The shout wasn’t loud, but it was a command, sharp as a curse. Everyone froze. Tom was on his feet before anyone could blink, his eyes locked on Abraxas like he was about to be gutted."You think I care about your excuses?” Tom’s voice dropped to a dangerous, silky softness. “I don’t. She’s onto me, Malfoy." He took one step closer. "Do you understand what that means?”Abraxas’ eyes darted to Corvus for help, but Corvus was stone-faced. He didn’t move.“It means you were too busy thinking with your—” Tom's eyes flicked down, and Abraxas flushed red with fury.“Careful,” Abraxas warned, his jaw tightening.Wrong move.Riddle’s eyes flashed with something wild. “Careful?” he repeated slowly, like he was tasting the word for the first time. “No, Malfoy. You should be careful.”His wand was in his hand so fast that no one saw him move.“Crucio.”The word was whispered, so gentle it could have been a lullaby. But the effect was instantaneous.Abraxas hit the floor with a choked gasp, his back arching as every nerve in his body lit up with pure, raw agony. His nails scratched at the cold stone, teeth bared in a silent scream.The others didn’t move. Not even Corvus. Not even Avery.They watched. Quiet. Still.Tom held the curse like it was nothing. No effort. No struggle. Just control. His eyes didn’t blink. His face didn’t shift. It was as if he were holding a quill, not another boy's pain.“Do you understand me now, Malfoy?” Tom asked softly, crouching down beside him. He tilted his head, his gaze as calm as if he were in a Potions lesson. “No more mistakes. No more games. You will keep her in line.”Abraxas nodded rapidly, his fingers curling into fists against the stone. Sweat dripped from his temple. His eyes were bloodshot, his breathing ragged, like every breath hurt.“Good.”Tom flicked his wand, and the pain vanished. Abraxas gasped for air, still trembling as he rolled onto his side.Tom rose slowly, adjusting the sleeves of his robes like nothing had happened.
He stepped forward, leaning down so his face was inches from Abraxas’s. His voice dropped to a whisper.“If she ruins this, I will ruin you.”He pulled back, turning to the others. “Clean him up.”No one moved for three seconds. Then, slowly, Avery crouched down, pulling Abraxas to sit up, his hands firm but not unkind. Dolohov handed him a water flask.“Get up, Malfoy,” Avery muttered. “You look pathetic.”Abraxas coughed, wiping his mouth, and glared at them all with watery eyes. But he didn’t say a word.Tom didn’t look back. He was already walking toward the stairs. His shadow stretched long against the stone walls.No one spoke. Corvus’ eyes stayed on Tom as he vanished into the darkness.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Chapter 8

The door to the potions classroom creaked open just as Slughorn was launching into his lecture. All heads turned, and there, at the entrance, stood Cordelia. Her cheeks were flushed from the brisk walk, her breathing just a bit uneven. She glanced at the room, biting the inside of her cheek as all eyes bore down on her.“Ah, Miss Blackwood,” Slughorn's voice boomed, but unlike the usual scoldings from other professors, his tone was far more indulgent. He waved a hand toward the desks. “Don’t worry, don’t worry. Take a seat, my dear. I know you’d never be late without reason.” He gave her a knowing smile, like she’d just been off doing something terribly important.Cordelia exhaled slowly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. She spotted Tom at their shared desk, his quill poised mid-scratch over parchment. He didn't look at her, but she felt the faint rise of his brow — a silent question, or maybe judgment. She slipped into her chair beside him, setting her books down with a quiet thump."Nice of you to join us," he murmured under his breath, his eyes still on his notes."Don't start," she muttered back, pulling out her own quill.Class resumed, and the air filled with the scratch of quills and the faint bubbling of potions brewing on Slughorn's demonstration table. Cordelia focused on taking notes, but her nerves wouldn’t settle. Her leg started bouncing beneath the desk, that restless, jittery shake that came without her realizing it.At first, Tom said nothing. His quill moved steadily, his face cool and unreadable. But as the minutes passed, his writing grew slower, the tension building like an overfilled cauldron. His jaw tightened. His eyes flicked down to her knee.And then, suddenly, his hand shot out and clamped down on her knee.Her breath caught in her throat. Warm. Solid. Unmistakable.She whipped her head toward him, eyes wide. “What the hell are you doing?” she hissed, her voice sharper than she intended.“Stop it,” he muttered, his grip firm but not painful. His gaze stayed forward, fixed on Slughorn like he hadn’t just done something insane. “It’s distracting.”Her heart did a strange little flip—not the romantic kind, but the kind that came with shock and disbelief. She yanked her leg back, his hand sliding off as she moved away like he’d burned her."Unbelievable," she whispered under her breath, glaring at him with her arms crossed. Her cheeks felt hotter than they had when she’d arrived late.“You’re the one twitching like a rabbit,” he replied quietly, still writing as if nothing had happened.Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, she debated kicking him under the table. But she forced herself to be still, shoulders tense with unresolved energy.For a while, she focused on her notes, refusing to look in his direction, but her eyes eventually drifted across the room. She scanned the faces of her classmates — Freya, Ivy, Nott, Avery, Lestrange, and others she didn't care to name — but one face was missing.Her brows furrowed. “Where’s Abraxas?” she whispered toward Tom, her eyes still scanning the room.Tom glanced at her briefly, his face a perfect mask of disinterest. “Don’t know,” he replied curtly, returning to his notes.Cordelia frowned. He knew. She knew he knew. She’d seen the flicker of amusement behind his eyes, faint but there. Tom Riddle didn’t “not know” anything.She leaned a little closer, whispering low, “You don’t seem too curious for someone who knows everything.”His quill paused for just a fraction of a second. “Perhaps he’s ill,” Tom said coolly, his gaze never lifting. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”But Cordelia didn’t miss the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth, like he was holding back a smirk. Her fingers gripped her quill tighter, and she turned away before she could say something that would earn her another infamous "Riddle Retort." ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ “Tom, Cordelia?” Slughorn’s jovial voice asked as the students began to pack up their things.Tom stood first, glancing down at Cordelia. "Come on, then."She followed, her bag slung over her shoulder, her brows still pulled in mild irritation from their earlier exchange. Slughorn leaned on his desk, his hands pressed on the wood like he had all the time in the world.“Professor,” Tom started with that perfectly measured politeness that made Slughorn practically beam. “We were hoping to ask for permission to use an empty classroom to continue our potion project.”Slughorn's smile widened. “Ah, already hard at work, are you? I’m thrilled to see that ambition, Tom m’boy. And you, Miss Blackwood, I knew you’d be a perfect partner for our Riddle here. You two might even outdo my old pair of prodigies from '26. What a team you’ll be, yes, yes...”Cordelia felt her face heat at the comparison but nodded politely. “Thank you, Professor. We’d like to get ahead.”Slughorn waved his hand as if they’d asked for something as simple as sugar for tea. “Of course, of course! I’ll have the house-elves clear out one of the side classrooms for you. No doubt you’ll want somewhere quiet, away from all the rabble.” His eyes crinkled as he winked. “Don’t blow up the place, though, eh?”“We’ll be careful, sir,” Tom said smoothly.“Oh, I know you will, Tom, I know you will,” Slughorn replied, his voice laced with pride. “That’s why I trust you with it. Such potential, my boy. I’ve always said so.” He gave Tom a hearty clap on the back that made Cordelia cringe on Tom’s behalf.Once Slughorn waddled away, Tom exhaled slowly, his eyes tracking him with thinly veiled irritation. “Flattery will kill me before poison ever will,” he muttered under his breath.Cordelia snorted. “Poor you. Must be hard being the 'Golden Boy.'”“Infuriating,” he replied, moving toward the exit. “Come on, Blackwood. We’ve got work to do.” ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The castle's corridors buzzed with the low murmur of students heading to their next classes. Sunlight spilled in from the tall arched windows, casting golden streaks across the cold stone floor. Cordelia walked alongside Freya and Ivy, her mind distant as they approached the main staircase. Her gaze flickered to the crowd of students ahead, and that's when she saw him.Abraxas.Her steps faltered.He stood a few meters away, leaning casually against the wall, his Slytherin tie slightly loose, giving him his usual air of arrogant ease. But something was off. His complexion was unusually pale, his posture too stiff for someone as relaxed as Abraxas Malfoy. His hand pressed subtly against his side, as if shielding a pain he didn't want anyone to see.“Abraxas?” she called, brows furrowed.His gaze shot up to meet hers, and for a brief second, his face betrayed something raw — pain, exhaustion, maybe even guilt. But it was gone just as fast. He pushed himself off the wall, slipping into that effortless smirk he always wore like armor.“Cordelia,” he said, his voice smooth but quieter than usual. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”Her eyes scanned him with a sharp intensity, noticing every out-of-place detail. The slight droop of his left shoulder, the faint grimace every time he shifted his weight. Her gaze dropped to his hand, where his fingers flexed slowly, almost like he was trying to work out a cramp.“Merlin’s beard, what happened to you?” Her voice was laced with concern as she reached for his hand. “You look like you’ve been trampled by a herd of Hippogriffs.”Abraxas hesitated, glancing around the corridor. “It’s nothing,” he said, yanking his hand away. “Got drunk last night, didn’t watch my step, and took a tumble off one of the moving staircases.” He gave a dry laugh, but it lacked his usual charm. “Landed right on my side. Hurt like hell.”“Really?” Her eyes narrowed. “Funny, because I didn’t see you looking this rough last night, and I was with you until we both left.”He tensed at that.“Abraxas,” she said more firmly, stepping closer, eyes searching his face. “Don’t lie to me.”“I’m not,” he replied, but his gaze wouldn’t meet hers. His smile twitched at the corners, his mask slipping just slightly. His fingers flexed again."Drop it, Cordelia," he said, his tone more forceful now. Not angry, but tired. Worn. “I’m fine. It’s not that deep.”“It is that deep if you’re lying to me,” she snapped back. Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs.His eyes softened, just for a moment, like he could see the storm of worry in her mind. But he shook his head. “Drop it,” he said quietly, his voice carrying that weight of finality that only Abraxas Malfoy could muster. “Please.”She stared at him, her jaw tight, her mind whirling with everything she wanted to say. But her chest ached at the sight of him — tired, hurt, and still trying to act like the world couldn't touch him.“Fine,” she muttered, glancing away. “For now.”“Thank you,” he replied with a small smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He stood a little straighter, exhaling like he’d just won some silent battle. But before the moment could grow awkward, he shifted the conversation, slipping back into his usual role as the smooth-talking Malfoy."Anyway, speaking of things that need your attention," Abraxas said, his grin coming back full force, “we need to discuss your outfit for the masquerade.”Her eyes snapped to his face, brow raised. “My what?”“Your outfit,” he repeated, his voice slow like he was explaining it to a child. “For the masquerade ball. You do remember it, right?”“Of course, I remember,” she said with a flick of her hand. “But what’s that got to do with you?”His grin grew wider. He stepped forward, ducking his head just enough so they were eye-to-eye. “Because, Blackwood, as your boyfriend, I’m officially obligated to say that you’re going with me.”Her mouth parted in surprise before she laughed, shaking her head. “Obligated, are you?”“Completely,” he said with mock seriousness, his eyes dancing with amusement. “It’s in the Boyfriend’s Handbook, page two, paragraph five. Look it up.”She rolled her eyes, but a grin tugged at the corner of her lips. “I didn’t realize I signed up for that version of the handbook.”“Too late,” he shot back, hands in his pockets as he leaned in, his face inches from hers. His gaze lingered just a moment longer than necessary. “So, what do you say, girlfriend? Shall we make it official?”Her heart did that stupid flip it always did when he used that word. She didn’t know why. She didn’t even like that word. Not really. It felt juvenile. But when he said it, it felt... different.She glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow. “I thought we were already going together. Aren’t we?”His grin faltered for a split second, caught off guard.“Oh.” He blinked, his face breaking into an even wider smile, softer than his usual smirk. “Yeah, I suppose we are.”“You’re slow, Malfoy,” she teased, walking past him. “Try to keep up.”He stared after her, watching her retreating figure as she joined Ivy and Freya near the end of the hall. He ran a hand through his hair, tilting his head back with a small laugh, his heart still thudding in his chest.“Bloody hell,” he muttered to himself, still smiling. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The classroom was quiet except for the rhythmic bubbling of cauldrons and the soft scrape of a knife against a cutting board. Cordelia worked deftly, her knife slicing through shrivelfigs with an efficiency born of years of practice. Across the table, Tom Riddle stirred their potion, his movements calm and precise, as if the delicate balance of ingredients bent to his will.Cordelia broke the silence first. “So,” she said lightly, not looking up from her work, “who are you taking to the ball?”Tom’s hand paused mid-stir. His dark eyes flicked to her, narrowing slightly. “I wasn’t aware that was any of your concern.”“Relax,” she said, a crooked smile playing on her lips. “It was just a question. Trying to fill the silence, you know. It’s deafening.”He said nothing, his expression impassive as he resumed stirring.After a moment, she shrugged, leaning back slightly. “Fine, don’t answer. But for the record, it’s not like I actually care.”Tom didn’t respond. The silence stretched until it began to feel suffocating, and Cordelia busied herself with crushing beetle eyes, the sound oddly satisfying against the mortar. She was about to let the conversation drop entirely when he cleared his throat.“I suppose,” he began slowly, his tone measured, “you’ll be going with Malfoy.”Cordelia’s hand froze mid-grind. She blinked, then let out a surprised laugh. “Wait, so what I’m doing is your business? You’re such a hypocrite, Riddle.”His jaw tightened, though his gaze remained fixed on the potion. “It’s a reasonable assumption.”“Is it?” she shot back, her eyes glinting with amusement. “You’re awfully invested for someone who just told me it’s none of my concern.”Tom glanced at her then, his dark eyes sharp and unamused. “If you must know, I find Malfoy’s attempts at charm tedious.”Cordelia snorted.He raised an eyebrow but said nothing, returning his focus to the potion. She smirked, satisfied with his reaction, and leaned forward to sprinkle crushed beetle eyes into the cauldron.“Are you going home for the holidays?” she asked after a beat, her voice more casual now. “To see your family?”The question hung in the air, and for a moment, she thought he might ignore it entirely. Then, with a slight edge to his voice, he replied, “No.”Something about the curt response piqued her curiosity. She set her knife down and tilted her head, studying him. “Why not?”Tom’s hands stilled, and he looked at her with an expression that was both distant and guarded. “Because,” he said evenly, “there’s nothing there worth returning to.”Cordelia’s brow furrowed at the strange detachment in his tone. She opened her mouth to press further, but his sharp gaze silenced her before she could speak.“Some of us don’t have the luxury of familial attachments,” he added, his voice cold.The weight of his words settled over the room, the silence now tinged with an unspoken tension. Cordelia hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Fair enough.”For the rest of the session, they worked in relative quiet, the only sound the bubbling of their potion and the soft clink of glass vials. But Cordelia couldn’t shake the lingering chill of his words—or the nagging feeling that she’d glimpsed a crack in the otherwise impenetrable armor of Tom Riddle. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The cool November air nipped at their cheeks as Cordelia and Abraxas strolled through the quiet grounds of Hogwarts. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, and only the faint glow of enchanted lanterns lit their path. They walked side by side, hands occasionally brushing.“Any idea what you’re wearing for the ball?” Abraxas asked, his voice carrying a teasing edge.“Wouldn't you like to know,” Cordelia replied, smirking as she pulled her coat tighter. "You’ll just have to be surprised like everyone else."Abraxas chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m just saying, don’t make it too stunning. I’d like to survive the night without every other bloke in the room staring at you.”“Your confidence is overwhelming, Malfoy,” she said dryly, but the corner of her mouth twitched upward.He gave a grin of pure arrogance, then, with a sudden burst of warmth, reached out to take her hand. “I'm serious, though,” he said, his voice lower now, more genuine. “I want to be the one everyone envies that night.”Cordelia glanced at him, startled by the softness in his tone. The chill of his palm met hers, their fingers threading together naturally. But as soon as they touched, the world shifted.Her breath hitched. The air changed, the cold of November replaced by suffocating heat. Her vision darkened, then shifted into something sharper, more vivid than any dream she’d ever had.  The room was dimly lit, the warm glow of firelight flickering on ancient stone walls carved with jagged symbols. The air was thick with the sharp tang of burnt herbs. Shadows moved in jerking, unnatural motions, like broken marionettes, as figures in dark robes circled a central sigil on the floor. Their faces were obscured by hoods, but she could hear them clearly.“Ego invoco potestatem veterum...” The words seeped into her ears, oily and sharp, like glass shards scraping against her thoughts.Her eyes darted from one figure to the next, breath catching in her throat. Her heartbeat pounded loud and frantic. Something about the shadows felt too real, too present.Then she heard a voice. Sharp. Cold. Familiar."Do it now. No hesitation. Or I’ll do it for you."Her heart stopped. She knew that voice. Riddle.One of the hooded figures stepped forward into the firelight. Blonde hair glinted beneath the hood. Her breath froze in her chest. Abraxas. Her pulse became thunder in her ears. She tried to call out to him, to scream, but no sound came from her throat. She watched in horror as he hesitated for a moment, staring at the dagger in his hand.His fingers curled around it slowly, like he was fighting some unseen force. But then, he steeled himself.The blade's edge pressed into his palm, and fresh, red blood welled from the cut. He hissed through gritted teeth as he dropped to one knee, slamming his bloodied hand down against the center of the sigil. The moment his palm connected, the carved symbol ignited like a brand, glowing a searing, molten red.Cordelia flinched back, heart pounding against her ribs. The chanting grew louder. Her mind screamed for her to move, to stop them, but her body wouldn’t listen.The glow of the sigil became blinding. Her eyes burned with the intensity of it, searing her vision with wild flashes of red and gold. Her pulse roared like a caged beast as her legs threatened to give out.Suddenly, she saw a face turn toward her from beneath one of the hoods. His eyes locked onto hers. Tom Riddle.Her breath seized. Her fingers twitched. He wasn’t supposed to see her. He wasn’t supposed to see her.“Cordelia…” he said, his voice soft, silk-smooth, but it cut through the vision like a dagger.She gasped. The firelight shattered. The world went black. Cordelia jolted as though she'd been struck by lightning. Her chest heaved as she took in a ragged breath, her fingers digging into Abraxas' wrist with enough force to leave marks. Her eyes were wide, glassy with shock.“Oi! Cordelia!” Abraxas yanked his arm free, his face scrunched in alarm. “What the hell was that? You just— you went all weird. Like you weren’t even here.” He gripped her shoulders. “Talk to me.”Cordelia blinked rapidly, the air around her snapping back into the present like a taut rubber band. Her chest heaved as if she’d been underwater for too long, her gaze darting instinctively to Abraxas’s hand. He was holding onto her hand, but the lantern light glinted faintly off a thin, pale scar slashing across his palm. She froze.The scar. It was the same one.Her breath hitched, the image of the vision flooding back—the firelight, the dagger, the hooded figures, and the blood searing the sigil on the floor. Her hands trembled as she reached out before she could think better of it, her fingers closing around Abraxas’s wrist. Her grip was firm, but her touch betrayed her fear.“Cordelia?” Abraxas’s voice was quiet, uncertain. He didn’t pull away, but his sharp gray eyes locked onto her, his usual cool demeanor giving way to something more concerned. “What are you doing?”Cordelia’s lips parted, and for a moment, she wanted to tell him. To ask him. To demand to know why she had seen this scar, why it felt as though her vision had reached through time to claw at her reality. But the words died in her throat.“I…” Her voice faltered. She dropped his wrist and forced a smile, trembling at the edges. “I just remembered—I have an assignment due tomorrow. I—I need to get to it. Professor Dumbledore will kill me if it’s late.”She laughed awkwardly, the sound brittle, and stood too quickly. Her feet carried her away before he could respond.Abraxas watched her retreat, his brow furrowing deeper. Slowly, his gaze dropped to the scar she’d been staring at so intently. He flexed his fingers again, his expression a mix of confusion and unease. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The sun streamed in through the frosted glass windows of the Ravenclaw dormitory, casting a soft glow on the cluttered room. Clothes were strewn across beds, scarves tossed onto chairs, and the faint scent of vanilla perfume lingered in the air.“Cordelia, come on,” Ivy whined, leaning against the edge of the bed, still tying her boots. “If we wait for you any longer, all the good dresses will be gone.”“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Cordelia muttered, pulling a thick, wooly sweater over her head and patting down her hair. Her fingers brushed over the ends of her loose curls, making sure they hadn’t gone wild in the process.Freya, perched on the edge of the bed, eyed her with suspicion. “You’ve been in a mood all week, you know. Don’t think we haven’t noticed.”Cordelia didn’t answer right away, busying herself with pulling on her coat. Her fingers lingered on the buttons, tugging a bit too hard on one. “Just tired,” she said finally, her voice too casual to be convincing.“Liar,” Ivy said in a sing-song voice, lacing up the last of her boots. “You’ve been avoiding the Slytherins like they’re contagious. Did Malfoy say something?”“No,” Cordelia said, too quickly.Freya raised an eyebrow. “Sure. That was believable.”“I don’t owe him my attention,” Cordelia muttered, stuffing her gloves into her coat pocket. "Or any of them, for that matter."Her friends exchanged a glance but didn’t push further. Instead, Freya shrugged and grabbed her bag. "Fine, but if Malfoy comes storming through Hogsmeade like a lovesick idiot, I reserve the right to say 'I told you so.’”“Deal,” Cordelia muttered, already halfway out the door. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The warm glow of The Three Broomsticks was a welcome break from the chill outside. The three of them huddled into a booth near the window, their cheeks pink from the cold. Three butterbeers were placed in front of them, steam curling up in soft wisps.“So,” Freya said, holding her mug like a prized treasure. “We’ve got our dresses. Now we need dates.” Her eyes shifted to Cordelia, a mischievous grin already forming. “Or wait, you’ve already got one, don’t you?”“Don’t start,” Cordelia muttered, taking a sip of her butterbeer.“I’m just saying,” Ivy said, leaning forward. “You and Malfoy are so disgustingly cute. Just admit it.”“We’re not—” Cordelia started, but the sound of the front door swinging open cut her off. Cold air rushed in, and with it, Abraxas Malfoy. His blonde hair was tousled from the wind, his gray coat buttoned up, but his sharp gaze locked onto her immediately.His eyes narrowed with irritation. He looked annoyed.“Here we go,” Freya muttered under her breath, tilting her mug toward Cordelia. “Brace yourself.”Before she could slip out unnoticed, he was already making his way over, his strides purposeful. “Cordelia,” he said, his tone clipped, “A word?”Cordelia's eyes darted to her friends, who were suddenly far too interested in their butterbeers.The table fell silent. Freya raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything as Cordelia stood reluctantly. She followed Abraxas outside, the chill air biting her cheeks.“What do you want, Malfoy?” she asked, crossing her arms.He looked at her, his frustration evident. “I could ask you the same thing. Why have you been avoiding me?”Cordelia’s gaze darted away. “I haven’t been avoiding you.”“Don’t lie to me,” he snapped. “Ever since… that night, you’ve been different. You won’t look at me, you’ve stopped spending time with me, and now you’re… what? Hiding with Ravenclaws in dress shops and pubs?”“I’m not hiding,” she said, though the words sounded weak even to her.“Then what is it?” His voice softened, confusion replacing anger. “Did I do something? Did I say something?”Cordelia felt a pang of guilt. She couldn’t tell him the truth—not yet. But she couldn’t keep pushing him away, either. She sighed. “I’ve just been… overwhelmed. Exams, prefect duties, everything. I needed some space, that’s all.”Abraxas studied her for a moment before nodding, though his expression remained guarded. “Alright. But next time, maybe just tell me, instead of… whatever this was.”“Fair enough,” she said, managing a small smile. “I’m sorry.”“Good,” he said, his tone lighter now. “Just don’t keep doing that, alright?”Cordelia laughed softly, the tension finally breaking. As they walked back toward the Three Broomsticks, Abraxas’ gaze fell on the shopping bag in her hand.“So,” he said casually, “what’s in the bag?”Cordelia smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”His brows rose. “You’re really not going to tell me?”“Not a chance.”Abraxas shook his head, though a faint smile tugged at his lips. “Alright, alright. I’ll have to wait and see then.” ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The halls of Hogwarts were cold, dimly lit by flickering torches on the stone walls. Cordelia’s footsteps echoed loudly, the lively chatter of the Ravenclaw common room a distant memory. Normally, patrolling gave her a sense of purpose, but tonight, thanks to Tom Riddle’s excuses, it felt like punishment.“‘Things that need my attention,’” she muttered mockingly, rounding a corner. “More like his ego needs feeding.”She could imagine him now, orchestrating some manipulative scheme in the shadows, while she hunted for curfew-breakers. Her wandlight cast jagged shadows on the walls, but Cordelia was unfazed. Riddle wasn’t hiding from her, after all—he was too smug to bother.“I handle everything,” she huffed, checking a dark alcove. “Meanwhile, the great Tom Riddle is probably perfecting his ‘I’m too important for this’ face.” She mimicked his condescending tone and snorted at her own impression. Talking to herself was better than stewing in silence.A faint sound ahead snapped her out of her thoughts. Wand raised, she called, “Hello?”The answer came in the form of muffled giggles. Rounding the corner, she found a Gryffindor and a Hufflepuff sitting on the floor, holding hands.“Out,” Cordelia said flatly, pointing toward the stairs. “Before I dock points for being utterly unoriginal.”They scrambled away, muttering apologies. “The future of wizardkind,” she muttered dryly, shaking her head.By the time she reached the Astronomy Tower, the cool night air had tempered her frustration. Leaning on the railing, she let the wind whip through her robes. “Just wait until the next patrol meeting,” she murmured, her lips curling into a grim smile. “He’s going to hear about this.”A sudden noise behind her made her whirl, wand at the ready, but the tower was empty. The faint creak of settling stone was her only company. Exhaling slowly, she turned back to the view. “Maybe I’ve been spending too much time alone,” she muttered.Descending the tower, the castle seemed alive, the shadows darker and the silence heavier. The torches flickered weakly, their light barely enough to cut through the gloom. Cordelia stopped at a junction, her nerves fraying.“Stupid Riddle,” she muttered. “If you’re making me—”Her words died as the torches suddenly dimmed, leaving only the glow of her wand. The chill in the air deepened, and her grip on her wand tightened. The silence pressed in, but nothing moved. Forcing herself to breathe, Cordelia kept walking, determined not to let her imagination win. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ Deep beneath the castle, hidden far beyond the reach of any wandering prefect, Tom Riddle knelt within a circle of ancient runes carved into the cold stone floor. The Chamber of Secrets loomed around him, its cavernous space heavy with the oppressive weight of centuries. Water dripped from stalactites high above, the sound echoing faintly against the dark, serpentine walls.He wore his black hood pulled low over his face, though his piercing eyes burned with an intensity that made the shadows around him seem darker. Beside him lay the diary—a simple, unassuming book bound in black leather. But the air around it seemed to hum with latent power, a quiet promise of the terrible magic it was about to bear witness to.Tom’s hands hovered over a silver chalice, its contents thick and dark, like blood mixed with ink. His wand trembled slightly in his hand, but his expression was resolute. This was no ordinary spell. This was the work of a pioneer, a magician who dared to tread where even the darkest wizards feared to go.He drew a sharp breath and began the incantation.
“Anima mea in fragmentis, tenebrae meae perpetuae.”

(My soul in fragments, my darkness eternal.)
His voice echoed off the walls, the words ancient and raw, pulling at the very fabric of the air around him. The runes on the floor glowed faintly, pulsing with a sickly green light that grew brighter with every syllable.
“Vita mortem superat. Amor cedit potestate.”

(Life conquers death. Love yields to power.)
His voice grew louder, more commanding, as the spell took hold. The chalice began to bubble, its contents swirling violently as though alive. The diary vibrated against the stone, and the glow of the runes spread outward, their light rippling across the chamber like veins of poison.Tom closed his eyes briefly, steeling himself. This next part required not just magic, but sacrifice. He reached into the folds of his robes and withdrew a small, gleaming blade. Its edge was wickedly sharp, and its surface shimmered with enchantments designed for one purpose: to sever something no mortal blade should touch.He hesitated for only a moment before plunging the blade into his palm, the sharp pain cutting through his resolve. Blood welled up instantly, dark and viscous, dripping into the chalice below. The liquid hissed and writhed as it mixed with his essence, as though alive and enraged.“Ego sum dominus mortis,” he whispered through gritted teeth, his voice shaking slightly but filled with purpose.
(I am the master of death.)
He pressed his bloodied palm to the diary, the glowing runes on the floor surging upward in a spiral of light and shadow. A scream tore from his throat—sharp, guttural, and filled with agony—as he felt the unnatural wrenching within him. It was as though a part of his very being was being ripped away, leaving behind an empty, gaping void.The diary absorbed it all: the blood, the light, the pain, and, finally, the fragment of his soul. Its black cover pulsed faintly, and the air around it grew still, deathly quiet, as if the entire chamber held its breath.Tom fell forward onto his hands, gasping for air, his hood slipping to reveal a face slick with sweat and pale as the moon. His eyes burned brighter than ever, though now there was something new within them—something hollow, inhuman.The diary sat before him, unchanged to the naked eye but irrevocably transformed. He stared at it, chest heaving, his lips curling into the faintest hint of a smile.“Immortality,” he murmured, his voice hoarse but triumphant. “It begins.” ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ Cordelia’s footsteps echoed against the stone floor as she made her final patrol rounds on the second floor. The halls were eerily quiet, the kind of silence that made the castle feel alive, as though it were holding its breath. The dim torchlight flickered weakly against the walls, casting long shadows that danced with every step she took.She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Last lap,” she muttered to herself. “And then I’m done playing babysitter for the night.”As she passed the entrance to the second-floor girls' bathroom, a sound stopped her in her tracks—a faint, hollow voice, almost like a whisper carried on the wind. Cordelia froze, her heart skipping a beat. She tilted her head, straining to hear over the thudding in her chest.Nothing.She shook her head, forcing a wry smile. “Getting jumpy over nothing,” she muttered, taking another step forward.But then she heard it again. A low, guttural murmur, just loud enough to send a chill down her spine.Her grip on her wand tightened. She wasn’t afraid—at least, that’s what she told herself. Probably just Peeves, she thought. Or some clueless first-year sneaking around. Either way, she had to check it out.Pushing the door open slowly, Cordelia peeked inside. The bathroom was dimly lit, the air damp and cold. At first, it seemed empty, just rows of sinks and the sound of a dripping faucet. But then her eyes landed on a figure leaning heavily against one of the far sinks.“Riddle?” she blurted, her voice sharp with disbelief.He didn’t respond, didn’t even flinch. He stood with his back to her, hunched slightly, his hands gripping the edge of the sink so tightly his knuckles were white. His head was bowed, dark hair clinging to his sweat-slicked forehead. His entire body seemed to tremble, as though he were barely holding himself upright.“What the hell, Riddle?” she demanded, stepping closer despite the growing knot of unease in her stomach. “What are you doing here? It’s the girls’ bathroom, you pervert.”At her words, he slowly turned his head to face her, and Cordelia froze. His complexion was even paler than usual, his face gaunt and slick with sweat. But it was his eyes that made her breath catch in her throat. They were black—utterly, unnervingly dark, like twin voids that seemed to swallow the dim light around them.“Riddle?” Her voice wavered slightly, betraying the unease she tried to mask with sarcasm. “Are you—?”Before she could finish, his knees buckled. His body crumpled as if the strength had been drained from him entirely.“Shit-” she gasped, rushing forward instinctively. Just before he hit the cold stone floor, Cordelia managed to catch him, her arms wrapping awkwardly around his shoulders. The weight of him nearly pulled her down as well, but she held firm, gritting her teeth as she lowered him carefully to the ground.“Riddle, wake up!” she urged, her voice tinged with panic. She brushed his damp hair back from his forehead, her eyes scanning his pale, sweat-drenched face. His breathing was shallow, his lips slightly parted, and those black, fathomless eyes met hers for a brief, agonizing moment.“What happened to you?” she whispered, barely audible, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile tension in the room. “Come on, Tom, wake up.”She lightly slapped his face, her touch firm but cautious. “Riddle, snap out of it! What did you do? What’s wrong with you?”His gaze flickered slightly, something dark and unreadable passing through his eyes. His lips parted as though he might speak, but no sound came. He just stared at her, that haunting, empty look sending a chill straight to her core.Then his eyelids fluttered shut, and his head lolled to the side. His entire body went limp in her arms.“No, no, no,” Cordelia muttered, her hands shaking as she cupped his face. “Don’t you dare pass out on me. Stay with me, Riddle!”But it was no use. He was unconscious.Cordelia’s heart pounded as she looked around the room, her mind racing. What in Merlin’s name had happened to him? And why, of all places, was he here? A faint hum of dread stirred within her, but she forced herself to focus on the boy in front of her.“Riddle,” she whispered again, her voice softer now. But he didn’t respond.And somewhere deep in the castle, the faintest tremor seemed to ripple through the ancient stone walls, as if the castle itself had felt the weight of what had just transpired.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Chapter 9

Tom’s POV
The world had never seemed so bright.Light poured through the high, enchanted windows of the Hospital Wing in soft, golden ribbons that scattered across the white linen sheets. It should have been soothing. It wasn’t. The sterile glow pressed against Tom’s eyelids like shards of glass. His temples throbbed in rhythm with his pulse, and every breath felt too loud in the stillness of the room.His hands lay on top of the blanket, perfectly still. He’d learned long ago that stillness was control. Movement betrayed discomfort. Movement revealed weakness.He did not move.Madam Pomfrey’s soft steps echoed from across the room as she organized her shelves, oblivious to the boy lying in one of her beds. He’d offered no complaints, no requests for potions, no signs of discomfort. He’d simply laid down with the silence of a predator returning to its den. She’d left him alone, trusting that if he needed anything, he’d ask.But he didn’t need anything from her.He needed time.His gaze shifted toward the high ceiling. He traced the pattern of the stone arches, sharp and clean. Everything in this place was too clean. Too open. The Chamber of Secrets had been dark, damp, alive with ancient magic. This place was cold and hollow, every surface too smooth, too polished.
Control it. Compartmentalize.
The split had been worse than expected. He’d been prepared for the pain, but not the—The tug.It had felt like a thread wrapped around his heart, yanked so violently it nearly snapped him in two. For a moment—a fleeting, searing moment—he’d felt himself slip. Felt the world tip sideways. His soul had been dragged from his chest like it was prey, and something in him—something fundamental—had been left in that diary.But it was done. The diary was complete. The first of many.The first step toward immortality.He’d barely had time to steady himself before Cordelia Blackwood had found him in the girls’ bathroom.His fingers curled slowly into his palm, pressing against the sheets. She’d seen him. She’d seen him stumble. She’d seen him kneeling on the wet floor, eyes wild, gasping for air like a drowning man.His head rested against the pillow, but his mind was not at rest. Something was wrong.The pulse in his chest was steady, slow, controlled—but it had been faster earlier. The faintest tremor had passed through him the moment he’d opened his eyes, as if his body knew before his mind did that something essential was missing.He’d felt for it—searched for it, unseen, unheard. But no matter how many times he scanned the edges of his memory, he found only absence. The emptiness was worse than pain. It gnawed.
Where is it?
The sharp creak of the hospital wing door snapped his thoughts in half. His eyes shifted to the side but not his head. No point in giving himself away. He knew who it was before he even saw her.Cordelia Blackwood.She walked in slowly, each step sharp with purpose. Not sneaking. Not cautious. Confident. Deliberate. Her presence had weight to it, like she’d brought the storm with her.Her shadow stretched long against the floor as she approached. Not in a hurry, not in a rush. It was deliberate, like she knew that making him wait would cost him something. She stopped just at the foot of his bed, hands tucked neatly into her robes, her head tilted ever so slightly to the side like she’d caught him in a lie."Look at you," she said, her voice cool, sharp as frost on metal. "Tom Riddle, flat on his back. Didn't think I'd ever see it."Her gaze swept over him, slow, assessing. He hated that. Hated how unbothered she looked. She’d seen him in a state no one else ever had."Enjoy it while it lasts, Blackwood," he muttered, his voice low and rough like crushed velvet. "Some things only happen once.""Mm." She raised a brow, unimpressed. "Some things shouldn’t happen at all."Her eyes didn’t leave his face. She didn’t look at his hands or his robes or the neat, perfect way he’d arranged himself like a boy carved from stone. No, she looked straight at his eyes. Like she was searching for something behind them."You were in the girls’ bathroom, Tom," she said, her voice sharp now, but still too quiet. "On the floor. Sweating. Gasping. Eyes wild like you’d seen something you couldn’t explain." She took one slow, deliberate step forward. "So tell me—what was it? What did you see ?"Her words hit like iron nails. Each one struck clean, purposeful, and hard. She knew exactly where to aim.He shifted. Not much, just enough to prop himself up slightly on one elbow. The sheet slid down his chest, baring his collarbone and the sharp lines of his frame. His eyes stayed on her the whole time, sharp as a knife’s edge."You’re mistaken, Blackwood," he said, each word a slow, calculated breath. "What you saw was nothing. People have moments of exhaustion. That’s all it was."Her lips twitched. Not a smile. Not a frown. Just a movement that said you’re lying and we both know it."Exhaustion doesn’t look like that," she said, stepping closer. "I’ve seen people pass out. I’ve seen people fall off brooms from thirty feet. They don’t look like that." Her eyes flicked over him, sharp and dissecting. "You looked like something had been ripped out of you."Her words hung in the air like smoke.He froze. Not visibly—but inside, something stopped. It wasn’t the words. It was how precise they were. How close she’d gotten to the truth without even knowing it."Be careful, Blackwood," he said quietly, sitting up fully now. His eyes never left hers. "Some things don’t like being hunted."Her eyes narrowed, her jaw tight."Funny," she said, voice colder now. "That’s exactly what I was going to tell you."They stared at each other. No one blinked. No one flinched. She stood over him, her shadow stretched long across his bed, and for the first time, he noticed something.She’d always been clever. He’d known that. But this wasn’t cleverness anymore. This was something else.Power.The realization settled slowly in his mind, like ink sinking into paper. He finally understood what Abraxas saw in her.It wasn’t just beauty—though she had that too. Sharp, unyielding beauty. Not the kind that fades in candlelight, but the kind that cuts through it. He could see it now in the sharp line of her jaw, the quiet fire in her eyes.But beauty was fleeting. Beauty could be controlled. This couldn’t.It was something else entirely. Power. The quiet, steady kind that doesn’t announce itself but makes itself known in every glance, every step, every word. The kind of power that doesn’t need to prove itself.This was what Abraxas had seen. This was what Tom had missed. Until now."Rest up, Tom," she said softly, her eyes flicking over him one last time. "Wouldn’t want you collapsing again."She turned on her heel and left, her footsteps fading slow and steady like the ticking of a clock.He watched her go.His jaw tightened as he watched her go . She didn’t look back.His fingers curled into the sheets, slow and deliberate, nails pressing into the fabric. His breathing was steady. His mind was not. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The firelight danced along the ancient stone walls, flickering gold and crimson like molten metal. Shadows stretched long and sharp, bending unnaturally over the heavy oak table where goblets clinked against glass bottles and silver platters of food lay half-eaten. The air smelled of firewood, spiced wine, and the faint metallic tang of ambition.Tom sat at the head of the table. His seat. His place. The flickering glow of the fire caught in his eyes, turning them gold like a predator’s gaze in the dark.The room was loud. It hadn’t started that way. When he’d called them in—Avery, Malfoy, Lestrange, Fawley, Nott, Rosier, and Black—the atmosphere had been tense, expectant. They had sat stiff-backed, eyes darting, waiting for him to speak. But after the words “It’s done” had passed his lips, everything shifted.Done. Complete. The first Horcrux.Now, the room was full of roaring laughter. It filled the air like thunder, rich and raucous. Abraxas leaned back in his chair, his grin wide, blonde hair slightly disheveled. Antonin Dolohov poured wine into two goblets at once, the deep red liquid spilling a little onto the table, but he didn’t care. Fawley had his feet kicked up, boots on the edge of the table like he was king of the world. Rosier sat with his head tipped back, laughing so hard it looked like he’d swallowed the sun.Even Lestrange smiled. And Lestrange never smiled.“Immortality, boys!” Avery declared, lifting his glass high. His wild grin made his sharp features look sharper still. “We’ve done what no one else has ever done. Do you realize that?” He spun slowly, his arms out like he was speaking to a grand audience. “One step closer to untouchable. One step closer to legend.”He turned back, his eyes locking on Tom at the head of the table. His grin widened.“It’s our time, gentlemen,” Avery announced, rising from his chair. He picked up his goblet and climbed on top of the table with a swagger too wild to be natural. “Let us eat till we explode! Drink till our eyes fall out! Let us dance footloose upon the earth and—” he held his goblet high above his head, his eyes wild and wide, “carpe some fucking diem!”There was a pause.The only sound was the soft crackle of the fire. Everyone's eyes flicked to Tom.He didn’t move.He leaned back slowly in his chair, his fingers curled lightly around the stem of his goblet. The glow of the fire reflected off his cheekbones and the sharp line of his jaw. He didn’t blink. He didn’t breathe. His eyes flickered once—just once—to Avery standing on the table.Avery didn’t move either. His grin faltered. His eyes darted toward Malfoy, then back to Tom.They were waiting. All of them.Abraxas glanced at Tom from the side of his eye, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. Rosier leaned forward ever so slightly. Dolohov stopped pouring his wine. The laughter stilled, but the energy in the room didn’t fade. It just tightened, sharp and taut like the drawn string of a bow.Tom turned his gaze to his goblet. He turned it slowly between his fingers, the liquid swirling like blood.Then, without a word, he raised it.One raised glass. One sharp, dangerous smile.“To legend,” Tom said softly, his voice smooth as silk but cutting as glass.The pause hung for a moment longer. Then, like a spark to dry wood, the room ignited.“To legend!” they shouted, voices overlapping in a deafening roar.Chairs scraped back as Avery threw his head back, letting out a wild cackle. Malfoy slapped the table hard, once, twice, as if declaring war on the room itself. Lestrange tilted his glass toward Tom, his face still pulled into something that looked too sharp to be a smile but too amused to be anything else.Wine spilled across the table. Plates clattered. Someone (probably Fawley) started drumming on the table with his hands like it was a tavern song. Dolohov gripped Avery by the back of the robes and yanked him down from the table, spilling wine on his shirt, but no one cared.“Drink, you bastards!” Fawley shouted, lifting his own glass high. “Drink like you’ve never drunk before!”“Like it’s your last,” Rosier muttered under his breath, tilting his goblet. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The room had descended into wild chaos.Wine dripped from the edge of the table. Lestrange was laughing—actual laughter—as Fawley challenged Dolohov to some ridiculous game that involved tossing grapes into a goblet across the room. Malfoy sat on the arm of his chair, leaning forward as if he were listening to a particularly good story. Abraxas had his sleeves rolled up, a half-eaten piece of bread in his hand as he argued with Rosier about Quidditch scores.Tom leaned back in his chair, his eyes on the fire. He wasn’t thinking about the wine. Or the laughter. Or the fleeting thrill of the moment.His thoughts turned inward, downward, toward the place where a piece of him had been left behind.He’d felt it the moment he woke up. That pull. That absence. His fingers flexed once on the arm of his chair. It had been hours, but he could still feel it.It wasn’t gone. He knew that much. It was out there. Somewhere.His gaze flicked to the fire, its glow dancing like the edges of a memory just out of reach. The feeling hadn’t faded. It had sharpened.He pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, feeling the pressure rise there.It’s nothing, he told himself. It’s nothing.But it wasn’t.His fingers curled tighter around his goblet. Slowly, he raised it to his lips and drank. The taste of wine was strong, bitter-sweet, like power that never quite satisfies.The celebration roared around him. He stayed quiet. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The dormitory was quiet.Thick velvet curtains hung around the four-poster beds, each one drawn shut like a line of sentries keeping watch. The soft hiss of night winds brushed against the old stone walls, and somewhere outside, the soft hoot of an owl echoed in the distance. Inside the dorm, it was warmer, quieter—just the steady, rhythmic sound of breathing.Ivy. Freya.Both of them were asleep. Cordelia could hear Ivy’s soft little snores from the bed next to hers. Freya shifted once, her mattress creaking faintly before settling into stillness again. Safe. Peaceful. Undisturbed.Cordelia sat cross-legged in her bed, blankets twisted around her ankles. Her curtains were drawn tight, her enchanted lantern dimmed to a faint golden glow beneath her pillow. It cast just enough light for her to see the soft, worn fabric of her nightshirt and the small, leather-bound book resting in her lap.Her fingers hovered over it like it might burn her.She shouldn't have it.Her gaze flicked toward the edge of her curtain. She half-expected to see a shadow moving on the other side, a shape pausing to listen. But there was nothing. Just the steady, even breathing of Ivy and Freya.Her fingers brushed lightly over the leather cover of the book. It was smooth, warm in a way it shouldn't be. It had been tucked under her pillow since she’d stolen it from Tom. She hadn’t told anyone. She didn’t even know why she’d taken it, only that she’d seen him reach for it while gasping for breath on the bathroom floor—and something in her had acted.Take it. Hide it. Ask questions later.Her thumb brushed along the spine, her breathing steady, slow. Part of her wanted to throw it into the fire. Another part—the louder part—wanted to know why it had felt so important to him.Her gaze flicked toward the curtain edge again. Still no movement. Just Ivy's faint snore.Slowly, she pressed her thumb against the edge of the cover and opened the book.The pages were old, slightly yellowed, but blank. No dates, no names, no markings. No sign that it had ever belonged to anyone. Just old parchment and emptiness.Her eyes narrowed, fingers tracing the edge of the first page. She flipped through it slowly. Page after page of nothing. Her lips pressed into a line.
If it’s nothing, why did you keep it?
Her gaze dropped to her quill. It lay next to the lantern, the feather soft, inkpot uncorked. She knew she shouldn't. She knew it as deeply as she knew she should have left the diary with Tom.But she reached for it anyway.Her fingers wrapped around the stem of the quill. She dipped it into the ink, the liquid swirling black like stormwater, and lifted it high over the diary’s open page.Her breath slowed. Her heart did not.Don’t.The ink gathered at the tip of the quill, a small, heavy bead of black.Drip.The drop hit the parchment. It didn’t blot. It didn’t stain. It didn’t soak in. It sank.Her breath caught in her throat. Her brows drew together as she leaned forward, eyes locked on the spot where the ink had been. The page was smooth, clean, untouched.Her fingers tightened around the quill.Her heart gave a little jolt, sharp and bright in her chest. She dipped the quill again, slower this time, her gaze fixed on the empty page. The end of the quill hovered over the parchment, like a blade waiting to strike.Her breath came shallow now, quiet as possible. Ivy shifted on her bed, the soft creak of her mattress breaking the silence. Cordelia froze. She glanced toward the curtain. No movement. Still asleep.Her eyes dropped back to the diary.Her hand moved before she could stop it. The tip of the quill pressed down, dragging carefully across the page. The ink shone black and wet as the word appeared beneath her hand.
Hello.
Her heart jumped once. She leaned back, the quill still in her fingers. She stared at the word like she’d summoned it from something older and hungrier. Her fingers tensed.Nothing happened.One second.Two seconds.Three—The letters vanished.Her breath hitched so hard it nearly made a sound. She snapped her gaze to the curtains, her chest rising and falling in shallow bursts. No one moved. No one woke. Her eyes darted back to the book.The page was blank again.Her pulse beat in her throat, steady but too loud. Her mind was louder.
That wasn’t normal. That wasn’t normal. That wasn’t normal.
Her fingers hovered above the page, stiff with tension. She had barely taken another breath when—Ink reappeared.It bled slowly onto the page, stroke by stroke, as if an invisible hand was writing it for her. The letters were clean, sharp, cursive—not hers.
Hello, Cordelia.
Her breath caught. Her fingers dug into the edge of her blanket. Her eyes stayed locked on those letters, heart thudding so hard she thought Ivy might hear it.No. No, no, no, no—Her eyes darted to the curtain. No movement. No sound. No shadows. Her gaze flicked back to the book, fingers tight on her quill like it was a weapon.It knew her name.Her breathing came fast and shallow now. She gripped the quill tighter, and before she could stop herself, she scrawled:
How do you know my name?
The words sank. Her hands shook. Her breathing felt sharp in her chest. It felt like minutes before it wrote back.The letters rose like smoke from the paper, slow and patient.
I know many things, Cordelia.
Her breath stopped.
And now, so will you.
Her hands went still. The quill slipped from her fingers, landing silently on the mattress beside her. She stared down at the page, her heart pounding in her ears. She didn’t blink.The words didn’t vanish. They stayed there, bold and sharp, staring back at her. They waited.Her hand reached for the edge of the book. Slowly, carefully, she closed it.Her breath came in small, sharp bursts. She shoved the diary back under her pillow like it was cursed. Her fingers brushed her blanket, curling into the fabric as she lay back against her pillow, eyes wide and unblinking.Her heart didn't slow. Her gaze stayed fixed on the edge of the curtain, on the way it fluttered just a little with every breath of air. Every flicker of shadow felt like it was watching her now.Her fingers pressed into her pillow, tight and unmoving.I know many things, Cordelia.She lay awake for hours after that. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The morning chill seeped into the castle’s stone walls, leaving them cold to the touch as Cordelia made her way toward the Great Hall. Her fingers were tucked into the sleeves of her robe, her mind still half-asleep. Students milled about, their chatter filling the air with the hum of early morning fatigue.Her eyes were on the ground, her feet moving on autopilot toward breakfast when—Pinch.A sharp jolt ran up her side, and she gasped, jolting so hard she nearly tripped. Her heart kicked in her chest, and before she even thought about it, she spun on her heel, hand already raised to swing at—"Woah, woah, woah!" A laugh, loud and golden.She froze, arm mid-swing. Her eyes locked on the familiar grin of Abraxas Malfoy, hair damp from Quidditch training, a light sheen of sweat still clinging to his skin. His robes were only half-fastened, the green and silver tie hanging loose around his neck.“You little—” she started, cheeks already flushed with embarrassment.“Ah, ah, ah.” He held his hands up in surrender, grin so wide it might split his face. “No need for violence, sweetheart.”“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me, Malfoy,” she grumbled, swatting at his arm, but there was no force behind it. “I almost knocked your teeth out.”“Almost,” he said, still grinning as he stepped forward and slid his fingers between hers, intertwining their hands. “But you didn’t.” He tugged her toward the Great Hall, walking just a little too fast, like a boy with a plan. “Come on, breakfast tastes better with me.”“You think everything tastes better with you.”He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “I’m not wrong.”Her face went hot, but she didn’t let go of his hand. The hum of morning conversation grew louder as they stepped into the Great Hall. Long tables stretched down the length of the room, students already gathered in clusters. The smell of fresh bread, eggs, and warm porridge wafted through the air, and Cordelia’s stomach growled loud enough for Abraxas to hear.“Hungry, Blackwood?” he teased, giving her a side glance.“Shut up,” she muttered, squeezing his hand as he guided her toward the Slytherin table.Her eyes flicked to the group sitting further down the bench. The Knights. All of them.Abraxas didn’t hesitate. He pulled her straight to them. They didn’t part to make room—they expected him to sit there. His place. Their place.He guided her to sit beside him, his fingers never leaving hers. When they sat, he pulled her in close, one arm curling around her waist, his palm resting just at her hip. His other hand reached for a pitcher of pumpkin juice like it was the most natural thing in the world.Cordelia’s heart stuttered. She glanced up from under her lashes, her gaze landing on the person sitting directly across from them.Tom.He sat perfectly straight, hands folded neatly on the table. His gaze was sharp, his eyes locked on Abraxas’s arm around her waist. He didn’t blink. He didn’t look away. The firelight from the enchanted ceiling flickered in his eyes, giving them a gold edge."Morning, Blackwood," Quinn greeted with a lazy grin from down the bench. He leaned forward to give them a better look, a half-eaten pastry in his hand. "Rough night? You look like you got hit by a Bludger.""Rougher if I had to stay with you," Cordelia shot back.The Knights howled with laughter. Quinn clutched his chest like she’d stabbed him. "Cruel woman.""Accurate woman," Nott muttered, brushing crumbs off his robes.“Move over, Rosier,” Abraxas said, knocking his knee into Rosier’s side.“Get your own seat,” Rosier grumbled but shifted just enough for Abraxas to stretch his legs.“I did,” Abraxas said, grinning as he pulled Cordelia a little closer. His eyes flicked to hers. “Didn’t I?”Her lips twitched into a smile, but she didn’t answer.Avery gave them both a mock toast with his goblet, Dolohov barely glanced up from his plate, and even Lestrange—Lestrange, of all people—gave Cordelia a sharp, wordless nod. Acceptance. Cold, but clear.“Are you going home for break?” Abraxas asked, tilting his head as he popped a grape into his mouth.“Yeah,” she said, taking a sip of water. “Why?”His gaze flicked to her, his grin widening. “Don’t.”Her brows furrowed. “Don’t what?”“Don’t go home.” He nudged her with his shoulder. “Come to Malfoy Manor instead.”Her blink was slow. “What?”“I’m serious.” He leaned forward, grin soft but genuine. “It’s a thing we do every year. Me, Nott, Rosier, Avery, Dolohov, Lestrange—” he tilted his head toward the boys at the table. “We all stay for the last week of December. We have fun. We throw snowballs. We drink. We—”“Party,” Nott said, raising his glass with a lazy grin. “There’s always a ball.”“A Yule Ball,” Abraxas said, eyes on her now. “My mother organizes it. It’s big, stupidly fancy, but it’s fun.”Cordelia hesitated.“My girlfriend will be there,” Nott added, wiping his mouth. “She’d be thrilled to have you there.”Abraxas leaned in, his face too close, eyes too wide. “Please, Cordelia,” he said in a soft, dramatic voice, tilting his head like a puppy begging for scraps. “Don’t make me spend the whole week with Nott’s girlfriend. She’s unbearable.”Nott threw a bread roll at his head.Abraxas didn’t flinch. He just stared at Cordelia, eyes big and ridiculous, waiting.She sighed, eyes rolling toward the ceiling. “Fine.”Abraxas’ grin broke across his face like the sun rising. He threw his arms around her, pulling her into his side. “Knew you’d cave.”Her gaze flicked forward—to Tom.His eyes were already on her. He tilted his head slowly, his lips curling at the edges. Not a smile. Not quite.Just promise of something coming. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The door clicked behind her, soft but final.The moment it shut, she knew.This was a mistake.Abraxas Malfoy leaned against the bedpost like he owned it. Tie loose, hair messy, eyes already on her like he’d been waiting for her to realize it too."Back again, Blackwood?" he drawled, one brow raised like he was amused by it all. "You just can't stay away from me, can you?"“If you think that, Malfoy, you’re delusional.” Her words were sharp, but she was already walking further into the room. Stupid. Absolutely stupid. But she didn’t stop.His grin curled wider. “And yet, here you are.”Here I am.Her gaze flicked to his mouth—just for a second. She caught herself too late. His eyes flicked down to hers, and his grin shifted from playful to something far more dangerous.He noticed.“You’re staring,” he said, voice low, his head tilting just enough to be obnoxious.“I’m glaring,” she corrected, turning away like she wasn’t already fighting a smile.Her fingers brushed through her hair, tugging at the loose strands that had fallen out of place. She glanced at him through the mirror on his dresser, and he was still watching her. Lazy. Comfortable. Like he had all the time in the world to do it.“Something you want, Malfoy?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.“Yeah,” he said, so blunt and shameless that she spun around to face him fully. Her heart skipped once. Just once.He stepped forward. One step. Two.No hesitation this time. No slow, cautious looks. They’d been here before.She braced herself. Told herself she wouldn’t move.Don’t move. Don’t react. Don’t—His hands were on her waist.Everything snapped.Her fingers gripped his robes before she could think, twisting the fabric, yanking him forward as she pressed up on her toes. Their mouths collided, harder than she meant, but he didn’t care. He never cared. If anything, he kissed her harder. His hands slid up her sides, fingers curling just under the hem of her sweater.Her breath caught in her throat.His grip on her waist tightened.“You’re impatient today,” he muttered against her mouth, his breath hot against her skin.“You’re talking too much,” she shot back, tilting her head to catch his mouth again.Her back hit the dresser. Sharp corner, but she didn’t care—not when his hands moved up her back, pressing her forward, fingers curling into the fabric of her sweater like he didn’t want to let her go.His lips moved slower now. Not sloppy. Not rushed. He knew exactly what he was doing.And that was somehow worse.Her heart wouldn’t slow down.Her head wouldn’t shut up.He tilted his head, mouth brushing over her jawline, slow, slow, slow—too slow.Her hands shot into his hair, tugging harder than she needed to, just to make him react. He did. He made a sound, low and guttural, something that sounded like victory and surrender at the same time.“Careful, Blackwood,” he rasped, teeth grazing the side of her neck. His voice was lower than usual. Rougher. Like he was barely holding on to it.She felt his lips curve into a grin against her skin.“You’ll leave a mark,” she muttered breathlessly.“Good,” he muttered back. “It’ll suit you.”His lips moved down her neck, warm, deliberate, and slow.Then he stopped being slow.His mouth pressed harder. Open. Hot. She gasped.Her eyes flew open.Her hand went to her neck, fingers brushing over the spot, skin still tingling from where his mouth had been. She felt it. Her heart stopped.Her eyes snapped to his. "Abraxas."“What?” he said, but he was already grinning. Grinning like he knew exactly what he did. His eyes flicked to her neck for a half-second, just long enough to make her pulse spike.Her heart slammed into her ribs. She spun toward the mirror.There it was. Red. Obvious. Undeniable.Her fingers curled into fists. She turned back to him slowly. He leaned against the bedpost, his hair a mess, his shirt wrinkled, and he looked so damn proud of himself.“Fix it,” she snapped.He tilted his head, blinking slow like he didn’t understand. “Why would I do that?”She glared at him. “Because I’m not walking out there like this.”“Then don’t leave.”Her fingers still trembled as they hovered over the red mark on her neck, a perfect imprint of his lips that was bound to cause more than a few raised eyebrows. She took a deep breath, her frustration bubbling up once again.Without thinking, Cordelia grabbed the nearest pillow from the bed and hurled it at Abraxas, watching it smack him square in the face. The satisfaction of hitting him was short-lived as he only laughed, a deep, knowing sound that made her jaw tighten. He didn’t even flinch. His grin widened, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he pushed the pillow aside.“Really?” he asked, still laughing, his voice low and teasing.Cordelia stood, hands on her hips, glaring at him in mock outrage. But her heart wasn’t fully angry anymore. Something about the look on his face, the way he didn’t take her seriously, softened her stance.She rolled her eyes, but her lips curled into a reluctant smile. “Ugh, I’m leaving,” she muttered, trying to sound more annoyed than she felt.Abraxas raised an eyebrow, his expression playful and knowing. “Sure you are.”Cordelia shot him a look over her shoulder, still smiling despite herself. “I mean it. I’m leaving,” she said, but the laughter in her voice gave it away.She turned toward the door, knowing he wasn’t going to let her go that easily. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The corridors felt colder at night.Not just the kind of cold that made her shiver. This was the kind of cold that seeped into her bones, the kind that made her skin feel too tight and her breath too loud. Every footstep echoed off the stone walls, sharp and hollow.Her wand was gripped tightly in her hand, just in case.Cordelia paused at the corner, eyes narrowed, listening for signs of patrol. The faint sound of footsteps echoed down the hall, but they were far off. Hufflepuff prefect. She knew his routine. He walked slow, bored, never checking corners, and always cutting patrols short.Perfect.She waited until the sound of footsteps faded, then slipped around the corner. Her heart beat faster than it should have. Not from fear. From the thrill of it. She hated how much she liked sneaking around.Don’t get caught.Not this time.The second-floor bathroom door was ahead, old wood worn with scratches near the bottom. Her fingers hovered over the handle for a second too long. This is a bad idea, Blackwood.She opened the door anyway.The bathroom was colder than the corridor. A different kind of cold. This one felt like it came from nowhere and everywhere at once, like the air itself was made of frost.Her footsteps echoed louder than they should have, each one bouncing off the cracked tiles. There were pale stains on the floor, old water stains spreading like spiderwebs.The flickering lanterns on the wall cast uneven shadows that moved when she didn’t.“Okay,” she muttered under her breath, steadying herself. “There’s nothing here. Just a stupid, ugly bathroom.”Her breath came out white, misting in front of her.Her eyes darted to the farthest stall at the end of the bathroom. It was slightly ajar.She forced herself to keep walking, her steps louder than she liked. She wasn’t scared. Not really. But it was the kind of place that made you feel like you should be.Focus, Cordelia.She inspected every corner. The sinks. The mirrors. The stall doors.Nothing.No burn marks. No lingering glow of magic. No faint hum of spells.She ran her hand along the wall near the sinks, fingers brushing over cold, smooth tile. Nothing. Not even a trace.Her gaze dropped to the sink in front of her. Her reflection stared back, hollow-eyed, tired, and a little bit angry. She hated that look.“What are you hiding?” she muttered, glaring at herself. “What am I missing?”Her hands moved on their own. She twisted the faucet and let the cold water run. It hissed as it hit the porcelain, pooling around the drain. She leaned forward, splashing the water on her face, letting it soak into her skin. Cold. Sharp. But it felt good.For a moment, she stayed like that, eyes closed, head down, water dripping from her chin. Her heartbeat slowed. Her breath evened out.Nothing. There’s nothing here.She lifted her head.And then she saw them.Two snakes.Small, almost too small to notice, but they were there—tiny engravings on either side of the sink. They twisted in opposite directions, their bodies curving in sharp, perfect symmetry. Her breath caught in her throat.“What…?” Her fingers reached for one of the snakes, her thumb running over its shape. The groove of the engraving was smooth, like it had been carved long ago.Her heart thudded once, loud and heavy.This wasn’t an accident.She ran her thumb over it again, slower this time. She pressed. Harder. Harder—Her breath caught in her chest. The room went cold.She barely had time to process it before a wave of icy cold shot through her chest. Like something passed through her.Her whole body seized up.Her gasp came out sharp, loud, and too sudden. She spun around, wand raised, breath ragged. Her eyes darted around the room. Nothing. No one.And then—“What are you doing in here?”Cordelia jumped so hard she nearly dropped her wand.A girl floated above her, eyes big, round, and accusing. Her face was blotchy from tears. Her glasses sat crooked on her nose. Her transparent form hovered just inches from the ground.Moaning Myrtle.“Here to laugh at me, too?” Myrtle sneered, crossing her arms. “Here to make fun of the dead girl, like all the others?”Cordelia blinked, her heart still racing.“No,” she said quickly, wiping the water off her face. “No, I’m not here for that.”Myrtle narrowed her eyes. “Liar.”Cordelia sighed, exhaustion creeping in. “Look, I’m not here for you, okay? I’m just—” She glanced back at the sink. “I’m just… looking for something.”“You won’t find anything,” Myrtle said bitterly. “I didn’t find anything either. Just death.”Cordelia’s eyes flicked back to her. Her fingers tightened on her wand.“You remember how you died?”The change was immediate.Myrtle’s face crumpled. Her lower lip wobbled. Her eyes went glassy with fresh tears. “I… I don’t want to talk about it.”“Please, Myrtle,” Cordelia said softly. “I just need to know.”Myrtle sniffed. Her transparent fingers wiped at her nose, but it didn’t change anything. “I was crying,” she muttered. “Olive Hornby was being mean again. She called me ugly. Said my glasses made me look like an owl.”Her voice cracked, bitterness sharp in every word.“So I ran in here to cry. I locked myself in that stall.” She glanced at the stall at the end of the bathroom. Her gaze lingered there, her lip trembling again. “I didn’t want anyone to see me.”Cordelia felt her chest tighten. “And then?”“Then I heard it.” Myrtle’s voice got quieter, eyes darting to the door. “Someone came in. I thought it was Olive, but it wasn’t. It was a boy. I could hear him talking, but it wasn’t normal talking. It was… different.”“Different how?” Cordelia asked, her voice barely a whisper now.“Weird words,” Myrtle muttered, glancing at her. “Like hissing.”Her heart stopped.Parselmouth.Her grip on her wand tightened until her knuckles went white.Myrtle sniffed again. “I opened the door to tell him to leave. I opened it, and…” She shook her head quickly, squeezing her eyes shut. “I didn’t even get to yell at him.”Her voice dropped to a whisper. Her whole body went still.“The last thing I saw were big, yellow eyes.”Yellow eyes.Her breath caught in her chest like it had nowhere to go. Her gaze snapped to the stall at the end of the bathroom. It sat slightly ajar. Dark inside. Quiet. Too quiet.Her mind started moving on its own. Too fast. Too sharp.Yellow eyes.Yellow. Eyes.Her heart thudded once, hard, like a fist hitting a door.Her gaze darted back to the sink—the snakes. The tiny, curved engravings, curling in opposite directions. Snakes.Snakes. Hissing. Parseltongue.Her breathing picked up. Her mind clicked one piece into place, then another, and another—click-click-click-click—The story. Hagrid's pet. The "beast" they said killed Myrtle. A creature Hagrid had been "hiding in a cupboard" that Riddle exposed to Dippet. A creature with eyes.No.Her heart jumped to her throat. Her breathing went shallow.It wasn’t a spider. It was never a spider.Her eyes flicked back to the stall door. She stepped away from it, slow, as if it might suddenly swing open. Her breathing sounded too loud now, too sharp in her ears.A spider doesn’t kill with its eyes.A spider doesn’t hiss like a snake.A spider doesn’t need a Parselmouth to command it.Her fingers curled so tightly around her wand she thought it might snap.It wasn’t a spider. It was a Basilisk.A Basilisk.The breath she’d been holding slipped out of her in a rush, cold and shaky. Her legs felt too weak to hold her.Her heart felt too loud, too fast. Her gaze flicked back to the two tiny snakes on the sink. Her mind clicked again. Two more pieces.Parselmouth.Control over a Basilisk.Her stomach dropped. Her mind was screaming at her, and she didn’t want to hear it—she didn’t want to hear it—but she already knew.Her heart slammed into her chest, panic swelling like a storm in her ribs.Her gaze darted around the bathroom, but there was no one here. No one to tell her she was wrong. No one to tell her she was imagining it.Her breathing went shallow, fast, too fast.Parselmouth.Snakes.Basilisk.Heir of Slytherin.Her fingers flew to her hair, digging into her scalp, like she could grab the thoughts and pull them out. No, no, no, no—Her mind wouldn’t stop.The clicks wouldn’t stop.It’s him. It’s him. It’s HIM."Holy shit," she whispered aloud, her voice shaking. Her eyes darted to the mirror, staring at her own wide-eyed reflection. Her pupils were blown, her chest heaving like she’d run a mile. "Holy shit."Her head jerked up. Her reflection stared back. Her lips moved before she realized it.“He’s the Heir.”Her heart pounded so loud she thought it might break her ribs.“He’s the Heir of Slytherin.”Her eyes darted to the two snakes on the sink. Slowly, so slowly, she pressed her fingers to the carving. It was still cold, still smooth, but now it felt like a mark on her skin she’d never be able to wash off.Her breath came in short, sharp bursts. Her fingers pressed harder, her nails dragging over the smooth grooves of the snakes' bodies.“He framed Hagrid,” she whispered, eyes locked on the snakes. Her throat felt tight, her chest too small to hold it all in. “He framed Hagrid.”Her hands curled into fists. Her chest heaved. Her eyes stung.Her breath came faster, harsher, louder.“He framed him.” Her voice was louder this time, sharp as broken glass. She pushed back from the sink, her heart slamming against her chest. “I knew it wasn’t a spider. I knew it.”Her hands pressed against her head, fingers curling into her hair. Her thoughts were racing too fast, too sharp, too loud.“He’s the Heir.”Her gaze snapped to the stall door. Her whole body went still.For a second, it felt like something was watching her.She didn’t move. She didn’t breathe.Her eyes darted to the mirror, slowly, slowly, like she was afraid of what she’d see.Nothing. No one.But it didn’t feel empty.Her chest felt tight. Her fingers twitched. She gripped her wand so tightly it hurt. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.Her gaze flicked to the door.She wasn’t staying here.No chance in hell.She took one slow step backward. Then another. Her breath was sharp, shallow, but she didn’t turn her back on the stall. She wasn’t stupid.Her eyes stayed locked on the door as she reached for the handle behind her, fingers fumbling for the latch. Her hands were slick with sweat. Her pulse was a drum in her head, louder than everything else.Her gaze didn’t leave the stall. Her chest didn’t rise until the door finally opened behind her.She slipped out, slamming the door behind her. Her breath came fast, too fast. Her eyes stayed on that door for too long, like she was waiting for something to burst out after her.Her back hit the wall. Her head tipped back, and her eyes closed.Her breath came in sharp, ragged pulls. Her fingers dug into her sleeves.He’s the Heir.He’s the Heir of Slytherin.He’s the Heir of Slytherin.Riddle is the Heir of Slytherin. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ Her feet hit the stone too hard. Her heart hit harder.Her breath came fast and sharp, like she'd been running for miles, but she hadn't run nearly far enough. Not yet. Not until she was behind the heavy, blue-bronze door of the Ravenclaw common room. Not until she was safe. If there was such a thing.Her fingers gripped her wand tightly. Her chest rose and fell too fast. She hated that she could hear her own breathing, loud and uneven.He’s the Heir.Tom is the Heir of Slytherin.The words kept pounding through her skull like a hammer on glass. Her mind was too loud, too sharp, and every flicker of shadow in the hallway looked like it was moving. Every shift of light felt like something watching her.Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Just get back.Her footsteps echoed louder than they should have. Her eyes darted to every shadow, every corner. She hated it—hated this feeling of being watched. She wasn’t scared. Not of the dark. But him? Him, she was starting to fear.Her nails dug into her palms. Faster. Just go faster.She took the next corner too quickly—eyes forward, mind on Ravenclaw Tower, body moving on instinct—and hit something solid.Her breath slammed out of her chest. Her shoulder jolted back. Her foot slipped, but—Hands.Warm hands on her waist. Gripping tight. Steady. Unmoving.Her breath hitched.Her whole body went still.And then—something else.It was small at first, like a shift in the air. A soft thrum that started where hands pressed into her waist and spread out in a slow, deliberate pulse.Warm. Sharp. Alive.It wasn’t pain. Not at all. It was more like…Like heat. Like static.Her eyes widened, her chest locking tight. Her fingers hovered uselessly in the air like she didn’t know where to put them.What was that?Her pulse jumped so hard it felt like her heart had missed a beat. She tried to push away, but his grip didn’t budge. It didn’t hurt. But it felt too steady. Too certain.Her gaze shot up.Tom.Her chest locked tight. Her eyes shot to his face, too close, too close.His fingers didn’t move, still pressed against her waist. She felt the weight of them now—not just the weight, but the warmth.Her breath hitched again.Her whole body tensed, but not from fear. Not fear.Her gaze flew to his eyes, and for half a second, she thought she saw it.A flicker. A shift. A pause.He felt it too.His eyes flicked down—just for a second—to where his hands touched her waist.Her skin buzzed under his grip. Not painful, not unpleasant, but…What is this?Her chest rose in a sharp breath.She wasn’t sure if it was her breath or his, but it sounded louder than it should have.Tom blinked. Slowly. Deliberately.His eyes rose back to hers, but they were different now—too focused, too careful.He felt it too.He felt it.Her heart jumped to her throat. She shoved at him, hard. Her breath came fast and ragged. Her hands were shaking, she realized. Not from fear. From something else. Something worse.His hands released her slowly, fingers dragging just barely over her sides before letting go.Her breath hitched again, chest too tight, heart too loud.Don’t react. He wins if you react."What are you doing here?!" they both snapped at the same time.Her voice sounded too sharp. His was too calm.His eyes settled on her, his face unreadable now. Not a single crack. No slip of surprise. His hands slid into his pockets, slow, like he was still thinking about it. Like he still felt it too.Her pulse wouldn’t slow. Her body wouldn’t stop buzzing. Her gaze flicked down to her waist where his hands had been. Her skin still felt warm. Like something had been left behind.She hated it. Hated it.Her breath came fast now, shallow, sharp. Her wand—where was her wand? She glanced down and saw it on the floor, just out of reach. Her fingers twitched. Stupid. You dropped it. Stupid.“You’re out late, Blackwood,” he said, calm, smooth.Her skin burned where his fingers had been. Her breath was still too fast, her chest rising and falling like she’d been caught doing something worse than sneaking.She took one step back. Then another. Her eyes flicked to the wand on the floor, but she didn’t move for it. Not yet. Not with him watching her like that.“What are you doing here, Riddle?” she said, voice sharp as glass. Her tone was harsher than she’d meant it to be. Good.His eyes didn’t narrow. They never did. But she saw the way his gaze shifted, the slight tilt of his head, like he'd just noticed something interesting. He always did that when she surprised him.“Touché,” he said, soft but satisfied, his mouth curling just slightly.Her nails bit into her palms.He watched her too closely. His eyes moved slow, scanning her face, her shoulders, her stance—like he was counting her mistakes.Don’t react. Don’t react.His gaze shifted lower. Not far. Just enough.Her neck.Her chest locked tight. Her breath stopped. Her pulse hit so hard she felt it in her ears.Her gaze stayed on his, locked, like she could force him to look away by will alone. But he didn’t.His eyes stayed there too long.Her skin burned where he was looking.Her fingers twitched. Her breath hitched.Her heart jumped straight to her throat. No, no, no, no—Her hand shot up, yanking her hair forward to cover it.Her eyes flicked to his. He was still watching her, still calm, still too steady. He saw it. He knows. He knows.Her mind flashed to the memory of it—Abraxas, too smug for his own good, his grin sharp as he leaned down, pressed his mouth to her neck, slow, too slow. Her face burned so hot she felt it in her ears.Stupid Malfoy. Stupid, stupid Malfoy.Her heart pounded louder. Her nails dug into her sleeves. Don’t react. Don’t react.His eyes flicked back up to hers slowly, too slow, like he wanted her to feel every second of it.That stupid, knowing smile was gone.He tilted his head. His gaze settled. His mouth didn’t smile this time.“He’s sloppy,” he murmured, voice as soft as silk, sharp as a blade.Her breath stopped.Her whole body went still.Her eyes didn’t move from his.Her mind was too loud, too fast, too sharp.What...?Her heart slammed into her ribs. Her fingers twitched at her sides.She didn’t ask what he meant. She already knew.Her face burned hotter. Her throat felt tight.“Say that again,” she said, voice too quiet, too deadly, too dangerous.He took one slow, steady step forward. Not fast. Not a threat. Just slow, calculated, deliberate. He leaned forward just enough. Just enough for her to feel it.His gaze didn’t leave hers.“He’s sloppy,” he said again, slower this time. “If he’s going to leave his mark, he should at least have the sense to hide it.”Her breath hitched so hard she almost choked. Her nails dug deeper into her sleeves.Her whole body felt hot—too hot. Her pulse was thunder in her ears.Her eyes flicked to the wand on the floor. Her fingers twitched.Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.Her gaze snapped back to him.Her voice came out colder than she’d expected. Sharper. Meaner.“See something you like, Riddle?” she hissed, tilting her head just slightly.His eyes sparked with something too sharp to be amusement. His mouth twitched, but it wasn’t a smile. It was something smaller. Darker.He leaned forward just a fraction more, his eyes locked on hers.“Not particularly.”Her fingers twitched. Her lungs felt too tight. Her heartbeat wasn’t slowing.Her gaze flicked back to her wand. She had to move. She had to.“Good, now to bed, Riddle.” Her voice was low, sharp as a dagger. “Before the Prefect catches us out after curfew.”His eyes dragged over her face, slow, deliberate, sharp as ever.His head tilted just slightly.“Sweet dreams, Blackwood.”His voice was soft, too soft. His smile wasn’t there, but his eyes never needed it.Her hands curled tighter into fists. Her heart was still too loud. Her breath still too fast. She didn’t turn her back on him. Not yet.But when she did, she moved fast.Her steps echoed.She didn’t run. But she wanted to.She could feel him watching her the whole way down the hall.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Chapter 10

The Ravenclaw dormitory was quiet, save for the faint rustle of wind against the tower windows. Cordelia sat by the window, her knees pulled to her chest, the soft glow of moonlight spilling over her face.Her thoughts had been running wild since last night.He’s the Heir of Slytherin.The words echoed in her mind, each repetition heavier than the last.She should have been terrified. And she was—at least, she thought she was. But it wasn’t just fear twisting in her chest.She leaned her forehead against the cool glass, her breath fogging the window. No matter how much she tried to focus on the facts—the Chamber of Secrets, Hagrid, the basilisk—her mind kept circling back to one thing.The way his hands had gripped her waist.It had been so quick, so unexpected, but she couldn’t shake it. His touch had been firm, steady, and... alive. There was no other word for it. That faint, electric spark where his fingers pressed into her skin—it was impossible, inexplicable.Her stomach twisted. She hated the memory, hated how it lingered. But more than anything, she hated the way she’d felt in that moment—like the world had stopped, just for a second, and there was nothing but his grip anchoring her.And the way he’d looked at her afterward...Her nails dug into her palms. “Stop it,” she muttered under her breath. “He’s manipulative. Dangerous. He framed Hagrid, for Merlin’s sake.”But even as she said it, her mind betrayed her, replaying the flicker of something in his eyes.No. No, stop it.She closed her eyes, but the darkness behind her lids offered no relief. All she could see were yellow eyes, sharp and deadly. All she could hear was the faint hiss of something ancient and alive.Her chest tightened. She curled her arms tighter around her knees. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The Astronomy Tower was quiet, its usual hum of late-night stargazers replaced by a silence that felt heavy and intimate. Cordelia sat on the ledge, her legs swinging idly over the edge, a blanket draped around her shoulders to ward off the chill. The stars above were impossibly bright, casting a faint silver glow over the stone floor.Abraxas leaned against the wall nearby, his Defense Against the Dark Arts text open in his hands. A soft breeze ruffled his blond hair as he flipped lazily through the pages, the very picture of someone who wasn’t taking anything seriously.Cordelia tried to focus on her own parchment, but the words blurred together, her thoughts spinning in endless loops.“Why are you friends with him?”Abraxas didn’t look up at first. “Friends with who?”She rolled her eyes. “Don’t play dumb, Brax. You know exactly who I mean.”That got his attention. He glanced up, his silver eyes narrowing slightly. “Tom?”“Yes, Tom.” She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Why are you even friends with someone like him? He’s cruel. He’s manipulative. And you—” She hesitated, her voice softening. “You’re kind. Most of the time.”Abraxas snorted, leaning back in his chair. “That’s generous of you, Cordelia. But I think you’re giving me too much credit.”She glared at him. “I’m serious, Abraxas. Why do you follow him like he’s your lord or something? Don’t tell me you actually agree with everything he does.”Abraxas’ smile faded slightly. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “Tom’s brilliant, Cordelia. You don’t understand—”“Brilliant?” she snapped. “Brilliant doesn’t excuse what he’s done. He destroys anyone who gets in his way. How can you just stand by and let him do it?”Abraxas’ jaw tightened. For a moment, he looked angry—angrier than she’d ever seen him.“It’s not about letting him do anything,” he said, his voice low. “You don’t just walk away from someone like Tom.”“So you’re afraid of him,” Cordelia said, her voice quieter now but no less sharp.Abraxas’ lips pressed into a thin line. He glanced away, his fingers drumming absently against the floor. “You wouldn’t understand.”Her chest tightened. “Try me.”For a moment, he didn’t answer. His silver eyes flicked back to her, and she saw something she didn’t recognize in his expression—a flicker of guilt, maybe even regret.“Tom doesn’t like loose ends,” he said finally.Cordelia frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”Abraxas leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. “It means he doesn’t like being questioned. And you’re getting dangerously close to doing just that.”Her breath caught. For the first time, it felt like a warning—not from Tom, but from Abraxas himself.“So you are afraid of him,” she said softly.Abraxas didn’t deny it. His gaze flicked back to his book, but he wasn’t reading anymore.“You’re smarter than most, Cordelia,” he said after a long moment. “But sometimes, you don’t know when to stop.”“If you’re trying to scare me, it’s not going to work,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt.“I’m not trying to scare you,” he said quietly. “I’m trying to protect you.”Her breath caught, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say.Abraxas picked up his quill again, the conversation seemingly over, but Cordelia couldn’t shake the weight of his words.Protect her from what? ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The soft hum of the cauldrons filled the room, the warm, bubbling sounds blending with the occasional clink of glass vials. The dungeon was unusually lively that morning, as Slughorn had begun the lesson with the introduction of a single, swirling cauldron at the front of the room.Cordelia leaned forward in her seat, trying to get a better look at the potion. Its surface shimmered in pearlescent waves, faint tendrils of steam curling upward and spreading an intoxicating aroma through the room.“Ah, Amortentia,” Slughorn announced with a flourish, his round face beaming. “The most powerful love potion in existence. Who can tell me how it works?”Several hands shot up, but Cordelia’s gaze flicked to Tom. He was staring straight ahead, his face unreadable, his hands folded neatly on the desk.Slughorn’s eyes landed on him almost immediately. “Tom, my boy, surely you know this one?”Tom didn’t move. For a moment, it looked as though he hadn’t heard the question. Then, slowly, he inclined his head, his voice measured. “Amortentia is a potion that doesn’t create love but simulates infatuation or obsession. It’s brewed using... delicate magical properties of attraction.”Slughorn beamed. “Precisely, precisely! And why, pray tell, does it affect each person differently?”Tom’s jaw tightened. He said nothing.Slughorn frowned slightly, looking at him expectantly. When it became clear he wouldn’t answer, another student—Nott—jumped in. “Because it smells like whatever attracts the drinker most, Professor.”“Spot on, Mr. Nott!” Slughorn said, clapping his hands together. “For example, when I first brewed this potion in my youth, I distinctly recall the aroma of crystallized pineapple—ah, but I digress.”Cordelia’s gaze flicked back to Tom. His face was still blank, his knuckles faintly white where they gripped the edge of the desk. Normally, he answered every question Slughorn threw his way, a picture of calm confidence. But now...He looked almost uncomfortable.The students shuffled forward eagerly, clustering around the cauldron. Cordelia found herself wedged between Ivy and Freya, their whispers drowned out by Slughorn’s booming voice.“Now, who’s brave enough to share what they smell?”The class exchanged nervous glances, but Cordelia felt Ivy nudge her forward.“Go on, Cordelia,” Ivy whispered. “You’re the best at this stuff.”Reluctantly, Cordelia stepped closer to the cauldron. The steam swirled around her, carrying a complex, intoxicating aroma. She closed her eyes, letting the scents wash over her.“Well, Miss Blackwood?” Slughorn prompted.She opened her eyes slowly. “Freshly cut grass, crisp morning air, and...” She hesitated, her cheeks warming. “a hint of expensive cologne with woody and amber notes, and perhaps a faint trace of polished leather.The class murmured appreciatively, and she caught Abraxas’ grin out of the corner of her eye. He leaned lazily against the edge of the table, his smirk wide and unapologetic.Cordelia shot him a look, but before she stepped back, another scent wafted toward her—faint but unmistakable.Old parchment and ink.Her breath hitched. It was fleeting, barely there, but it was enough to unsettle her. She stepped back quickly, her heart racing.That wasn’t Abraxas.He wouldn’t know old parchment if it hit him in the face.The students filed back to their desks, the chatter about Amortentia filling the room. Cordelia tried to focus on her notes, but her mind kept circling back to the second scent.After a moment, she leaned slightly toward Tom.“What did you smell?” she asked softly.Tom didn’t look up from his parchment. “Nothing.”She blinked. “Nothing?”“That’s what I said,” he replied curtly, his quill scratching against the page.For a moment, she thought he was joking, but his tone was too flat, his gaze too sharp. “Seriously?”He finally set his quill down, turning to face her with an expression that could have frozen fire. “Not everyone has the luxury of being so... sentimental, Blackwood.”Her brow furrowed. “But not even Lucinda?”Tom’s eyes darkened, and his lips curled into a faint sneer. “You don’t have to love someone to be... physically involved with them.”Her cheeks burned, and she turned quickly back to her notes, her stomach twisting uncomfortably.The rest of the lesson dragged on painfully. Cordelia could feel Tom’s irritation radiating from him, his movements sharp and precise as they worked on their individual potions. By the time Slughorn dismissed them, she was eager to escape the tension.Tom, however, was the first out of the door. He swept past her without a word, his robes billowing behind him as he disappeared into the corridor.Cordelia sighed, turning back to collect her things, when her gaze landed on the desk he’d just vacated.His quill.It was sleek and elegant, with silver accents that caught the light. It looked expensive—too expensive to leave behind.She grabbed it quickly and called after him. “Riddle!”But he was already gone.Cordelia hurried after him, weaving through the crowded hallways. By the time she reached the seventh floor, her breath came in shallow gasps. She spotted the edge of his robes just as he turned a corner.“Riddle, wait!”She quickened her pace, rounding the corner—only to find an empty hallway.Her brow furrowed. “What the—?”The corridor was completely still, the air eerily quiet. She glanced up and down, but there was no sign of him. It was as though he’d vanished into thin air.Cordelia frowned, clutching the quill tightly. She considered leaving it in his dorm or handing it off to someone else, but something stopped her.Her gaze drifted back down the hallway, a faint unease settling over her. Shaking her head, she slipped the quill into her bag.“I’ll give it to him later,” she muttered, turning on her heel and heading back toward the main staircase.But even as she walked away, the unsettling stillness of the seventh floor lingered in her mind. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The Room of Requirement had shifted again, molding itself to the needs of its current occupant. The walls were draped in dark, heavy tapestries bearing the crest of Salazar Slytherin, and a long, rectangular table dominated the center of the room. Flickering torches cast an eerie glow over the polished stone floor, their light dancing across the faces of the Knights as they filed in one by one.Tom Riddle stood at the head of the table, his posture rigid, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. His gaze was sharp, piercing each Knight as they took their seats.The tension in the air was palpable, the room unnervingly silent save for the occasional rustle of robes.“You’re late,” Tom said coldly, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.The Knights murmured quiet apologies, their heads bowed. Even Abraxas Malfoy, usually so confident, avoided meeting Tom’s gaze as he slipped into his seat.Tom let the silence stretch, savoring their discomfort before he spoke again. “Let’s begin. Fawley.”Quinn Fawley straightened, his pale face unreadable. “My lord.”“The locket,” Tom said sharply. “Tell me what you’ve learned about Hepzibah Smith.”Fawley nodded. “She’s an eccentric, wealthy collector. Obsessed with treasures, particularly anything tied to the Hogwarts Founders. She lives in a heavily warded manor outside of Nottingham.”Tom’s lips curled into a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “And the locket?”“She flaunts it,” Fawley replied. “Claims it’s an heirloom from her family. She’s attached to it—keeps it locked in a display case in her parlor. But she’s... careless. She enjoys showing it off to visitors.”Tom hummed thoughtfully, his gaze distant for a moment. “Good. Continue monitoring her. I want everything—her habits, her visitors, her weaknesses.”Fawley inclined his head. “Yes, my lord.”Tom’s attention shifted. “Malfoy.”Tom tapped his fingers lightly against the tabletop, the soft rhythm echoing in the stillness. "What have you learned about her?”Abraxas hesitated, his hands resting on the polished wood in front of him. He’d known this question was coming, but the weight of it still made his chest tighten.“She isn’t a threat, my lord,” he said carefully, his voice steady but quiet. “She’s clever, yes, but she doesn’t suspect anything. She spends most of her time studying or practicing spells. Nothing out of the ordinary.”Tom’s fingers stopped tapping, his gaze sharpening. “And her questions? Her snooping?”Abraxas’ jaw tightened. “She’s curious, but it’s harmless. I’ve kept her distracted, as you asked.”Tom leaned back slightly in his chair, his expression unreadable. “Distracted.”Abraxas nodded. “She isn’t looking into anything important. I’ve made sure of it.”Tom’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, and the silence that followed was suffocating. Then, with a faint scoff, Tom leaned forward again, his elbows resting on the table.“You’ve kept her distracted,” he repeated, his voice colder now. “And what happens when she stops being ‘distracted,’ Malfoy? When her curiosity leads her exactly where we don’t want her to go?”Abraxas hesitated, choosing his next words carefully. “She won’t. I won’t let her.”Tom’s lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. “You won’t let her?” He tilted his head slightly, his voice soft but dangerous. “And what makes you so certain?”Abraxas hesitated again, his hands tightening into fists beneath the table. “She trusts me.”Tom’s eyes narrowed, the room growing colder with the weight of his gaze. “Trust,” he said, his voice laced with disdain. “That’s a dangerous word, Malfoy.”Abraxas swallowed hard, but he didn’t break eye contact. “I’ve done as you asked, my lord. She’s not a threat. She’s... she’s different.”Tom’s expression darkened. “Different.” He stood slowly, his movements deliberate, and the Knights tensed as his presence loomed over the table.“Do you know what I find interesting, Malfoy?” he said, his voice soft, almost conversational. He began to circle the table, his footsteps echoing in the silent room. “You were given a task. A simple one. Get close to her. Keep her from looking into things she shouldn’t. And yet...” He stopped behind Abraxas, leaning down slightly so his voice was directly in his ear. “Here you are, making excuses for her.”Abraxas clenched his jaw, his chest tightening. “I’m not making excuses, my lord. I’m protecting her. From you.”The words slipped out before he could stop them, and the room froze.Tom straightened, his expression unreadable as he moved to stand in front of Abraxas. The silence stretched unbearably long, the other Knights staring, wide-eyed and motionless.“From me,” Tom repeated, his voice eerily calm.Abraxas nodded slowly, forcing himself to meet Tom’s gaze. “She isn’t a threat. But if you keep pushing her, she will be.”Tom’s lips curled into a faint sneer, his gaze narrowing. “And you think you can stop me?”The air grew colder, the torches flickering as Tom’s presence filled the room like a suffocating shadow.“I think she’s worth protecting,” Abraxas said quietly, his voice steady despite the growing tension.For a long moment, Tom said nothing. Then, slowly, he leaned down, his voice dangerously low. “You’ve let your emotions cloud your judgment, Malfoy.”Abraxas stiffened but didn’t respond.Tom straightened, his gaze cutting through the room. “Mulciber.”Mulciber sat up straighter, his expression tense. “Yes, my lord.”“Your father works in the family records office, does he not?” Tom asked, his voice sharp and commanding.Mulciber nodded quickly. “Yes, my lord.”Tom’s gaze flicked back to Abraxas briefly before returning to Mulciber. “I want everything there is to know about the Blackwood line. History, magical affinities, any notable anomalies. And make it quick.”Mulciber nodded again. “Yes, my lord.”Tom turned back to Abraxas, his expression colder than ever. “You may think you’re protecting her, Malfoy, but you’re only delaying the inevitable.” His voice dropped, each word sharp as a blade. “And if your incompetence jeopardizes my plans again, I won’t hesitate to remind you where your loyalties lie.”Abraxas’ hands tightened into fists beneath the table, but he kept his head down. “Yes, my lord.”Tom straightened, his gaze sweeping over the room. Without another word, he turned sharply on his heel and strode toward the door.The heavy door slammed shut behind him, and the silence that followed was deafening.Finally, Corvus spoke, his voice low and sharp. “I told you, Malfoy. This isn’t just for your amusement. You’ve let yourself get distracted.”Abraxas didn’t respond, his jaw tight, his gaze fixed firmly on the table in front of him.“If you don’t fix this,” Corvus added coldly, “he’ll destroy you. And her.”The words hung heavy in the air, and for the first time, Abraxas felt the weight of what he’d done—and what it might cost. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The library was quiet, its usual hum of activity reduced to the faint rustle of parchment and the soft creak of wooden chairs. Cordelia sat at a table tucked into the farthest corner, her books and notes spread in a chaotic mess around her.In the center of it all sat the note.
Stop digging where you don’t belong?
She glared at the parchment like it had personally insulted her, her quill poised in the air but unmoving.It didn’t make sense.It couldn’t have been Riddle. He wouldn’t be so obvious—so direct. If he wanted to stop her, he’d do it in a way that left no trail, no trace.And Abraxas... No. He didn’t even know about her research, and even if he did, he wasn’t the type to send cryptic warnings. He’d confront her outright.So who?Cordelia sighed, running her fingers through her hair. She’d tried everything—spells to reveal hidden enchantments, spells to trace handwriting, even charms that supposedly exposed magical intent. Nothing worked. The parchment remained stubbornly ordinary, its words mocking her in their simplicity.Her frustration boiled over, and she slammed her quill down on the table. The sound echoed faintly through the library, earning her a stern look from Madam Pince.Cordelia muttered an apology, then slumped back in her chair, glaring at the note.Why can’t I figure this out?Her thoughts were interrupted by a faint shift of movement. She glanced up, her gaze landing on a familiar figure a few tables away.Corvus Lestrange.He stood by the nearest bookshelf, his pale fingers trailing idly along the spines of books. His posture was relaxed, almost lazy, but there was something unnerving about the way he lingered. He wasn’t reading, wasn’t even pretending to search for something specific.Cordelia frowned. He’d been there for at least ten minutes, just... standing.Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. She leaned forward slightly, her voice low but sharp. “Is there something you need, Lestrange?”He didn’t flinch, didn’t even look up at first. When he finally turned to face her, his expression was cool, detached, as though he’d only just noticed her presence.Corvus smirked faintly, stepping closer. “Neither, Blackwood. Perhaps I just enjoy the view.”Her cheeks flushed slightly, but she didn’t let it show. “Funny,” she said dryly. “I didn’t take you for a comedian.”He chuckled softly, his dark eyes flicking to the note on her table. “What’s really funny is the way you’ve been staring at that piece of parchment like it holds the secrets to life itself.”Cordelia stiffened, her gaze narrowing. “That’s none of your business.”“Isn’t it?” he asked, his tone light but laced with something sharper. He moved closer, his steps slow and deliberate, until he stood just on the other side of her table. His gaze flicked to the note again, then back to her. “You’re making it everyone’s business, the way you’re obsessing over it.”Her chest tightened, but she refused to look away. “Why do you care?”He tilted his head slightly, his smirk fading into something colder, more calculating. “Because you’re smart enough to know when to stop digging. Or at least, I thought you were.”Her heart skipped a beat. The words hung heavy in the air, too close to the message scrawled on the note for her comfort.“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, her voice quieter now, but no less sharp.Corvus shrugged, his expression unreadable. “Nothing. Just an observation.”Cordelia’s gaze flicked back to the note, her thoughts spinning. Could it be him? No, it didn’t make sense. Corvus wasn’t the type to leave notes. He didn’t warn people—he acted.And yet...Her fingers tightened around the edge of the parchment. “Did you send this?”He raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning faintly. “Why would I waste my time warning you about anything, Blackwood?”“That’s what I’d like to know,” she shot back.For a moment, he didn’t answer. His gaze lingered on her, sharp and unsettling, before he stepped back.“If I were you, I’d be careful,” he said softly. “Curiosity has consequences.”Her chest tightened, her breath catching. “Is that a threat?”He chuckled again, shaking his head. “Not at all. Just a... friendly suggestion.”And with that, he turned and walked away, his steps slow and measured, leaving Cordelia with more questions than answers.She stared after him, her pulse racing.What the hell just happened? ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ Cordelia’s dormitory was quiet, the soft winter light filtering through the frosted windows. A faint chill lingered in the air, but Cordelia hardly noticed it as she knelt by her trunk, carefully folding her robes and tucking them into place.Freya and Ivy were still downstairs, giggling over their plans for the break, leaving Cordelia blessedly alone for once. She appreciated their company most days, but right now, her thoughts felt too heavy to share.She reached for another set of robes, smoothing out the fabric before placing it neatly on top of the growing pile. Her fingers brushed something cool and stiff beneath the layers—a familiar leather cover that sent a shiver up her spine.The diary.Cordelia froze, her chest tightening as she stared at it. The faint, scrawled lettering on the back felt like it was staring back at her, mocking her.Tom Marvolo Riddle.She hadn’t touched it since that night in the dormitory, when curiosity had gotten the better of her and she’d written in it. She could still remember the way the ink had vanished, how the diary had written back to her like a living thing.Since then, the nightmares had started.Every night, dark, twisted visions invaded her sleep—shadows swallowing the castle, hissing whispers in a language she couldn’t understand, and always the faint, unsettling feeling of being watched. She hadn’t told anyone, not even Abraxas. How could she explain it without sounding mad?Her hands trembled as she picked it up, the leather cold and smooth beneath her fingers. “It’s just a book,” she muttered to herself, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re being paranoid.”But even as she said it, her stomach twisted. She’d tried to convince herself of that before, but the dark circles under her eyes told a different story. She hadn’t slept properly in weeks, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that the diary was somehow... alive.Cordelia stood abruptly, clutching the diary in her hands. She paced the room, biting her lip as she considered her options.Leave it here.That was the sensible choice. If the diary really was causing her nightmares, leaving it behind would be the first step to regaining her sanity. But then, a horrible thought crept into her mind.What if someone else found it?Her heart sank at the idea. She didn’t know why the thought unsettled her so much, but the idea of someone else touching it—reading it—made her chest tighten.Her gaze flicked to her trunk. She hesitated, her fingers tightening around the diary. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered. “It’s just a precaution.”Finally, with a resigned sigh, she tucked the diary into the corner of her trunk, hiding it beneath a folded cloak. “Out of sight, out of mind,” she said, though the words felt hollow.She snapped the trunk shut and sat back on her heels, staring at it like it might burst open at any moment.The dormitory door creaked open, and Ivy’s head peeked around the corner. “Cordelia, are you done packing yet? Freya’s already finished, and we wanted to see the decorations in the Great Hall before dinner.”Cordelia forced a smile, standing and brushing the dust off her skirt. “Almost. I’ll be down in a minute.”Ivy grinned and disappeared again, leaving Cordelia alone once more.She glanced at the trunk, her unease still gnawing at her. Something about the diary felt... wrong. But it was too late now. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The day of the masquerade ball had arrived, and the entire castle buzzed with excitement. Classes had ended early for all houses, a rare treat that left the students with a precious few hours to prepare for the most anticipated event of the year. The air seemed to hum with energy, as if the very walls of Hogwarts were eager to see what the night would bring.In the hallways, groups of students laughed and hurried toward their common rooms, exchanging excited whispers about who would be wearing what and speculating on the night's drama. Everywhere you looked, there were hints of the evening ahead—gleaming robes, delicate masks being carried under arms, and the occasional burst of laughter from someone trying on their attire for the first time. Even the portraits seemed more animated than usual, their eyes following students with an extra gleam of curiosity.The scent of perfume, candles, and fresh flowers wafted through the air as students made their way to their rooms, each one feeling the same mix of nerves and excitement that could only come before such an event.In Ravenclaw Tower, Cordelia stood in front of her mirror, gazing at the dress laid out before her. Her heart beat a little faster as the minutes slipped away, and the weight of the decision ahead pressed on her shoulders. Would she embrace the grandeur of the evening, or shy away from it entirely?The Ravenclaw girls’ dormitory buzzed with energy as the golden hour set the perfect glow for preparations. Freya twirled in front of the mirror in her floral dress, a soft cascade of blush and cream hues embroidered with delicate petals. She looked ethereal, the flowers seeming to bloom as she moved. Ivy, as expected, opted for a bolder look. Her deep emerald-green gown shimmered like liquid silk, with sharp, geometric embellishments that matched her sharp wit and striking personality.But Cordelia, standing by her bed, felt her nerves clawing at her. The dress laid out before her—a deep midnight blue masterpiece with intricate silver embroidery—looked like something out of a dream. The corset-style lacing on the back and the dramatic off-shoulder cut gave it an edge of sophistication and mystery, but it was the raven-feather-inspired details that truly made it breathtaking. Her mask, adorned with delicate filigree and sapphire accents, sat waiting on the dresser. Yet, despite the beauty of it all, Cordelia hesitated."I feel... overdressed," Cordelia murmured, brushing her fingers along the fabric.Freya, busy pinning the last of her soft curls in place, turned and gasped. "Overdressed? Are you joking? You’re going to steal the show!"Ivy, applying a final swipe of her bold red lipstick, smirked. "For once, I agree with Freya. You look like you stepped out of a fairy tale, Cordelia. If you don’t wear that, I’ll personally hex you into it."Cordelia couldn’t help but laugh, though a nervous flutter still churned in her stomach. “I just don’t know if it’s... me.”Freya was by her side in an instant, grabbing her shoulders and spinning her toward the mirror. “Cordelia, look. You’re stunning. That dress was made for you, and you’re going to walk into that ballroom and make everyone forget how to breathe.”“And Abraxas will probably trip over his own feet,” Ivy added, grinning. “Merlin knows he’s already halfway obsessed with you.”Cordelia’s cheeks turned pink at the mention of Abraxas. “He’s not obsessed.”“Oh, please,” Ivy drawled, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “He’s been following you around like a lovesick puppy for weeks. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”Cordelia hesitated, her gaze dropping to the floor. “I just... I don’t know. I think I might actually...” She trailed off, her voice barely above a whisper. “...have feelings for him.”There was a brief pause before Freya squealed, grabbing Cordelia’s hands and bouncing on her toes. “I knew it! I knew it! Oh, this is perfect! You two are so cute together!”Ivy raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a sly smile. “Took you long enough to admit it.”Cordelia groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Alright, alright, stop. This is embarrassing.”“Embarrassing?” Freya said, tugging her hands away. “Cordelia, this is adorable. And tonight, you’re going to show him that you feel the same.”Cordelia glanced back at the dress, the nerves slowly giving way to a small flicker of confidence. “You really think I can pull this off?”Freya and Ivy exchanged a look before Ivy said, “Oh, she’s hopeless.”“Cordelia,” Freya said firmly, “you’re going to be the most beautiful girl at that ball. Now, get into that dress before I cry.”Once Cordelia was finally dressed, Freya and Ivy helped with the finishing touches. Freya pinned a delicate sapphire necklace around her neck, the deep blue stone perfectly complementing the dress. Ivy adjusted the laces at the back of the gown, ensuring they were tight but comfortable. And finally, Cordelia’s hair—styled in an elegant updo with loose curls framing her face—was adorned with a small, subtle clip shaped like a raven feather.When she put on the mask, its intricate design hugging her face perfectly, even Cordelia couldn’t deny that she looked... magical.Freya clasped her hands together, her eyes shimmering. “Cordelia, you look like a queen.”Ivy smirked. “A dangerous queen.”Cordelia rolled her eyes, but the corner of her lips tugged into a smile. “Alright, let’s go before you two make me even more self-conscious.”As the girls descended the stairs from their dormitory, the common room quieted. A few lingering students turned to look, their gazes immediately drawn to Cordelia. Even Thaddeus, the Ravenclaw prefect, paused mid-conversation to take her in.“Blackwood,” he said with an approving nod, “you look... well, stunning.”Cordelia felt a rush of warmth flood her cheeks. “Thank you, Thaddeus.”Freya nudged her playfully. “Told you.” ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ As they approached the staircase near the Great Hall, Cordelia’s heart began to race. She knew Abraxas would be waiting at the bottom, but what she wasn’t prepared for was the sight of him. Standing tall in his sharp, tailored suit of black and silver, he looked every bit the heir to the Malfoy name. His blond hair was perfectly styled, and his mask—sleek, elegant, and impossibly fitting—added a layer of mystery that only enhanced his charm.To her surprise, he wasn’t standing alone. Behind him stood his usual entourage—Quinn Fawley, tall and imposing, wearing a smirk that matched his reputation Antonin Dolohov, his eyes glinting beneath his dark mask; and Cain Avery, his presence sharp and unrelenting, though his playful grin softened the severity of his attire. But the one who caught Cordelia’s attention, as always, was Tom Riddle. He stood a few paces away, draped in black, his mask a web of intricate silver lines. His eyes locked onto hers, and for a brief moment, it felt as though he could see right through her—his usual coldness replaced with something raw, something consuming.Abraxas’ voice broke through her thoughts, low and smooth. "You look... enchanting tonight, Cordelia." His gaze was fixed on her, and his smile, though wide, held a glint of something dangerous.Cordelia’s breath caught in her throat, a small blush creeping up her neck. Before she could respond, he stepped forward, offering his hand. But just as she reached the bottom of the stairs, Abraxas pulled her into him, his lips crashing against hers with an intensity that left her breathless. The kiss was urgent, desperate—like he couldn’t wait another second. His hand cupped the back of her neck, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss until it felt as though time had stopped.Around them, the whispers grew louder. Quinn raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on his lips, while Antonin’s gaze was fixed on them, his usual smirk gone, replaced by an unsettling silence. Cain leaned against the railing, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he watched the spectacle unfold. But it was Riddle who stood the stillest. His gaze never left Cordelia as Abraxas pulled away, leaving a lingering trace of his kiss on her lips.Abraxas grinned, his voice low and confident. "Perfect," he whispered, his hand still resting on her waist. "You’re perfect."Cordelia’s chest tightened, her heart racing, but before she could respond, a voice cut through the tension.Riddle’s voice was quiet, yet sharp. "You always were a spectacle," he said, his eyes still fixed on her, his tone a strange mix of admiration and something darker—something that felt like a challenge.Abraxas' smile faltered just for a moment, and the tension in the air thickened. Quinn glanced between Abraxas and Riddle, his lips curling into an amused smirk. Antonin’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, while Cain straightened, sensing the shift in the atmosphere.Cordelia’s pulse quickened as she met Riddle’s gaze. There was hunger in his eyes, something raw and intense. For a moment, she felt as though she were the only one in the room, his stare pinning her in place.And for the first time that night, Cordelia wasn’t sure who she was more nervous about—Abraxas or Tom.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Chapter 11

The Masquerade Ball was everything Hogwarts had promised it would be—glittering chandeliers casting a warm, golden light, soft music floating through the air, and the buzz of whispered conversations adding to the mystique of the evening. Cordelia stood with Abraxas at the entrance to the Great Hall, her arm loosely looped through his. She could feel the warmth of his presence beside her, and when she glanced up, his eyes were filled with something that bordered on pride.“You’re staring,” she teased lightly, her voice carrying a hint of amusement as the flush on her cheeks began to creep up.Abraxas smirked, clearly unbothered. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone look as beautiful as you do right now.” His voice was low, filled with an earnestness that made her heart flutter. He reached out, extending his hand toward her with the subtle grace that seemed to be second nature to him. “May I have this dance?”Cordelia smiled, sliding her hand into his without a second thought. “Of course.”But before they could step onto the floor, the headmaster, Professor Dippet, took the stage, his voice rising above the murmur of the crowd.“Welcome, students and honored guests,” his voice rang out, authoritative and commanding. “Let us remember, as we gather here tonight, the bonds that unite us all as a school and as a community. May tonight’s festivities remind us of the importance of unity, of friendship, and of tradition…”Cordelia rolled her eyes, exchanging a quiet look with Abraxas as the headmaster droned on, his words fading into the background. She could practically hear the collective groan of the students, all of them silently wishing for the speech to end so the dancing could resume.Abraxas leaned toward her, a soft laugh escaping his lips. “I’m starting to think Dippet believes his own speeches will cure the wizarding world’s problems.”Cordelia smirked, a flicker of amusement dancing in her eyes. “He certainly does enjoy hearing himself talk.”Finally, the speech came to an end, and the applause trickled into the air, signifying the return of freedom. Abraxas leaned closer, his voice low. “Now, would you care to dance?”Cordelia’s smile widened. “I thought you’d never ask.”They stepped onto the dance floor, and the crowd parted for them as they joined the other couples. Abraxas guided her with a fluid, confident motion, the music wrapping around them like a spell. Cordelia felt herself getting lost in the rhythm, in the way Abraxas moved, in the soft glow of the chandeliers, and the way his eyes never seemed to leave hers. Tonight was theirs.“You’re awfully quiet,” she observed, her voice a gentle murmur as they swirled through the dance.Abraxas met her gaze, his smile faint but sincere. “I’m just enjoying this moment,” he said, his voice lowering slightly. “I don’t want to ruin it.”The song ended far too soon, and as the soft applause filled the air, Abraxas leaned down and whispered, “Wait here. I’ll fetch us something to drink.”Cordelia nodded, her eyes following him as he disappeared into the crowd. She adjusted the straps of her gown, looking around the room at the glittering masks and vibrant colours swirling together in a blur. It was all so beautifully surreal.But then, she felt it—someone else had arrived at her side. A familiar presence. The smooth, almost mocking voice cut through the music.“Left alone already?”Cordelia didn’t need to look to know it was him. She could feel his presence behind her, the unsettling calm he always seemed to exude. She turned slowly to face him, her jaw tightening as she met his gaze. “Tom,” she said, keeping her tone even, her eyes cool.He was standing there, sharp and pristine in his black robes, the silver web of his mask gleaming under the soft light. His gaze swept over her, lingering just long enough to make her feel as though he were inspecting her—evaluating her with the intensity of someone who thought they could see through everything.“I see Malfoy has excellent taste,” Riddle remarked, his voice quiet, but there was an edge to it, a mockery disguised as praise.Cordelia arched an eyebrow, her lips curling into a faint, challenging smile. “What do you want, Riddle?”He didn’t hesitate, his voice low but firm. “To dance.”She couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips, sharp and mocking. “If you’d asked like a gentleman, maybe I would have considered it. But now?” She shook her head slightly, a smirk playing on her lips. “Not a chance.”Riddle’s eyes darkened, the faintest flicker of annoyance flashing across his features, but he moved before she could say another word. His hand shot out, grabbing hers with a swift, firm motion, and before she could protest, he was already pulling her toward the center of the room.“Enough games,” he muttered, his grip unyielding, and Cordelia felt a mix of fury and something else—something she couldn’t name—stir within her. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ Abraxas returned moments later, two glasses of champagne in hand. He stopped short when he realized Cordelia wasn’t where he’d left her.“Where’s Cordelia?” he asked, his voice sharper than he intended.Quinn Fawley appeared at his side, an amused smirk on his lips. “She’s over there,” he said, nodding toward the dance floor.Abraxas followed his gaze and felt his chest tighten. There she was, dancing with Riddle. His jaw clenched, and the grip on his glass tightened.“Sorry, mate,” Cain Avery said, clapping a hand on Abraxas’ shoulder.Abraxas didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on Cordelia until the song ended and she returned to his side. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The music had shifted to a slower, more intimate waltz, its haunting melody weaving through the air, making the space between them feel charged, electric. Riddle didn’t bother with pleasantries; he simply took her hand and placed it on his shoulder, his other hand settling at her waist with a firm, almost possessive grip. His touch was deliberate, calculated, as though he were asserting some form of control, even in the dance.“You’re impossible,” she muttered under her breath, the words barely escaping her lips, but Riddle caught them, his lips curling into a small, mocking smile.“Maybe,” he replied coolly, his voice low and edged with a challenge. He guided her into the steps with practiced ease, his movements sharp and precise, as though everything he did was controlled to perfection. She followed, though her mind screamed at her to pull away. He wasn’t someone you danced with without feeling the weight of every word unsaid, every intention hidden beneath the surface.The air around them seemed to crackle with tension as they moved together. Every step felt like a subtle battle, each of them trying to outmaneuver the other in the quiet war of wills. But despite everything—despite how much she loathed him—Cordelia couldn’t help but notice the way he held her, the way his body moved in rhythm with hers, the faint pressure of his hand at her waist, guiding her, almost possessively.“You know,” Riddle murmured, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, just close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath against her ear. “You’re not as unpredictable as you think.”Cordelia stiffened, her pulse quickening despite herself. “And you’re not as clever as you like to pretend,” she shot back, though there was a flicker of something—something between irritation and intrigue—in her chest.He chuckled softly, a dark sound, almost like a promise. “We’ll see about that.”She couldn’t shake the feeling that the dance had become something more than just a waltz—it was a conversation, a silent exchange of power and control, and for every step she took to distance herself, he was right there, pulling her back in.“You clean up well,” Cordelia said after a moment of silence, her voice dripping with a mixture of sarcasm and reluctant admiration.Riddle’s lips twitched, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I could say the same for you,” he replied, his tone almost begrudging, as though admitting anything remotely kind was a battle he was unwilling to lose.Cordelia raised an eyebrow, studying him more closely. “Are you joining Abraxas and the others at the Malfoy estate over the holidays?”“Of course,” Riddle answered, his voice light, though there was an undercurrent of something else in his words. “The Malfoys adore me.”The words were flippant, but there was a strange edge to his tone. Before Cordelia could respond, the music began to slow, and she realized the dance was coming to an end. Riddle’s grip on her loosened, but he didn’t release her hand immediately. Instead, his gaze lingered on hers, dark and unreadable.Then, without a word, he released her hand and stepped back, disappearing into the crowd before she could even react.For a moment, Cordelia stood there, her heart pounding in her chest, her mind reeling. What had just happened? The tension still hummed in the air, unresolved, like the echo of an unfinished battle. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ When Cordelia reached Abraxas, she immediately noticed the storm brewing behind his silver eyes. His jaw was clenched, and his posture was rigid, as though he were trying to fight something within himself. The usual pride he carried was overshadowed by an undercurrent of tension—something deeper, something she hadn’t quite seen before.“You’re upset,” she said softly, her voice tinged with concern.“I’m not,” he replied too quickly, the words coming out with a sharpness that didn’t belong. His gaze flicked to hers, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—a hesitation, a wariness—that she hadn’t expected.Cordelia didn’t need to push further; she could feel the tension radiating off him, thick and palpable. She stepped closer, her hand gently resting on his arm as if to ground him in that moment. “Abraxas, it was just a dance.”But he shook his head almost imperceptibly, his jaw tightening once more. “It wasn’t just a dance,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.Cordelia paused, feeling something shift in the air between them. She could sense that this wasn’t about the dance at all. She knew him well enough by now to understand that there was something more gnawing at him—something he wasn’t yet ready to admit.She leaned in closer, her voice softening. “Abraxas…” She placed her hand over his heart, feeling it thud unsteadily beneath his crisp shirt. “Talk to me. What’s really bothering you?”His eyes flickered to hers, and for a moment, he seemed like he might open up. But then, the familiar wall that he had so carefully constructed around his feelings came crashing back into place. His voice was quieter, but it carried a quiet edge of vulnerability she hadn’t expected. “I just don’t like sharing you, that’s all.”The confession hung in the air, fragile and raw. It took Cordelia by surprise, though she had known there was more to his behavior than he was letting on. There was a depth to his words, a realization she hadn’t fully grasped—this wasn’t just about Riddle showing an interest in her, it was about something far more complicated.Abraxas had changed over the last few months. What started as a task assigned to him by Riddle had, without him realizing, evolved into something more—a feeling that had taken root in his chest and grown too fast for him to control. The warmth Cordelia brought, the way she made him feel, had changed him in ways that scared him. But it wasn’t just that; it was Riddle.There was a quiet fear gnawing at him that, even though he had no idea just how deep Riddle’s interest in her ran, the simple fact was—if Riddle wanted something, he got it. And if Riddle wanted her, there was little anyone could do about it.Cordelia studied him, sensing the undercurrent of his words, and the sudden understanding made her heart skip a beat. She couldn’t know the whole truth—the real reason behind Abraxas’ unease. But she could feel it now, as if a silent weight had settled over them both. The power and danger Riddle represented, the way he operated—Abraxas was not just worried about a rivalry. He was scared. Scared that he had let his guard down too far, scared that he was in too deep with her, scared that he might lose her to someone more powerful than him.She knew Abraxas. He wasn’t a man to admit weakness easily, and yet here he was, unburdening himself in a way that both touched and terrified her.She placed her hand on his arm again, her fingers warm against his cool skin. “You don’t need to worry about him,” she said, her voice soft, but firm, trying to reassure him in the way only she could.He looked down at her, his eyes softer now, but the storm hadn’t fully passed. “I know what Riddle’s capable of, Cordelia,” he said, his voice tight with a quiet frustration. “It’s not just about a dance. It’s… it’s everything. You don’t understand what kind of person he is.”Cordelia’s heart beat faster as she heard the unspoken fear in his words. She didn’t know how deep Riddle’s influence stretched, how far it reached into Abraxas’ life. But she could see the shadow that Riddle cast over everything. “Abraxas, I’m not going anywhere,” she said, her voice steady but full of sincerity.He was silent for a moment, and she could almost hear the weight of his thoughts, his mind working through everything he feared but hadn’t spoken aloud. She could see the way he fought the vulnerability, the instinct to push it all away. And yet, with her, he couldn’t help but let it show.Finally, he exhaled, the tension easing just a fraction. He looked at her, his gaze a mix of relief and reluctance. “You don’t get it, do you? It’s not just about sharing you with him. It’s everything, Cordelia. You… you’re not just someone to me anymore. It’s not a game, not some fleeting thing I can walk away from.”Cordelia’s breath hitched at the rawness in his words. She hadn’t expected this depth of honesty from him, hadn’t realized how deeply he had come to care for her—how quickly his feelings had shifted, growing into something far more dangerous than he was ready to admit.She reached up then, pressing her lips to the corner of his cheek, a soft, comforting kiss meant to ease the unspoken fear gnawing at him. “You have nothing to worry about,” she said again, her voice firm but warm. “I’m here, Abraxas. And I’m not going anywhere.”For a long moment, they stood there in silence, his heartbeat slowly returning to normal beneath her touch. Then, slowly, his lips curved into the faintest of smiles—small, but genuine.“Alright,” he murmured, his voice still laced with that undercurrent of something—reluctance, maybe, but also trust. “But next time, I’m not sharing you with anyone else.” The words were light, almost teasing, but there was an unmistakable edge of possessiveness in them that only Cordelia could provoke.She couldn’t help but smile at that, the lightness returning between them. “You don’t have to worry about that,” she said again, her voice a quiet promise, her hand lingering on his chest. “You’re the only one I want.”His smile deepened, and for the first time that night, the storm in his eyes seemed to dissipate completely. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Good,” he whispered. “Good.”And for now, it was enough. The unspoken tension between them was still there, but it was something they could face together. In that moment, Cordelia realized just how much he had come to mean to her, and how much this fragile, complicated thing between them had already become something far deeper than either of them had expected. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The music played on, swirling around the room like a soft spell. Ivy, as usual, kept a careful distance from the revelry, standing on the fringes of the crowd with a quiet observance. It wasn’t that she wasn’t enjoying herself, but she had a habit of staying a little removed from the chaos. Freya, on the other hand, had surprised everyone by accepting Cain Avery’s invitation to dance. There was something almost tender in the way he extended his hand to her—no teasing, no games. Just an earnest invitation, which Freya took with a raised eyebrow and a small smirk, before slipping into the waltz with him.The sight was unexpected, to say the least. Cain, hadn’t exactly shown any signs of interest in Freya before tonight. His invitation had caught everyone off guard, and the way he danced with her—gentle, yet confident—made Cordelia wonder if there was more to the situation than just the punch.“Unbelievable,” Ivy muttered, her tone quiet as she watched the two glide across the floor. She hadn’t said much all night, but now her eyes narrowed slightly at the sight of Cain and Freya, as though trying to make sense of the unexpected moment.Cordelia laughed, leaning against Abraxas, her hand comfortably on his arm. “It’s definitely the punch,” she said with a wink. The cheer in her voice was warm, but there was a flicker of amusement in her eyes. “Freya’s usually not one for dancing with anyone.”Abraxas smirked, clearly entertained by the sight as well. “I don’t know, it looks like Cain’s got a bit of a soft spot for her.” He raised an eyebrow, giving Cordelia a teasing glance. “Think it’s the charm or the punch working its magic?”Cordelia smiled, but her eyes lingered on the couple as they twirled effortlessly. “Could be both,” she replied, her voice light. “But I’d say it’s more likely Cain’s got more up his sleeve than he’s letting on.”As the dance continued, Ivy remained silent, her lips pressed together in contemplation. Cordelia turned her attention to her friend, noticing the faint furrow in Ivy’s brow.“Are you alright?” Cordelia asked, her voice soft but inquisitive. Ivy, who usually held the floor with sharp words, seemed almost out of place in the current atmosphere. The carefree energy around them didn’t seem to sit quite right with her tonight.Ivy turned her gaze toward Cordelia, her lips twitching slightly. “I’m fine. Just… surprised, I guess. Didn’t think Cain had it in him.”Cordelia raised an eyebrow. “To dance?” she teased.Ivy gave a short, humorless laugh. “No, to actually like someone enough to dance with them without making a joke out of it.”At this, Cordelia’s smile softened. “Maybe he’s finally found someone worth not making fun of.”Ivy’s gaze shifted back to the dance floor, where Cain and Freya were still lost in their rhythm, their steps perfectly in sync. “Maybe.” There was a quiet depth to her voice now, as though she was weighing something heavier than the lightheartedness of the evening could fully accommodate.Just then, Quinn and Corvus stumbled over, each holding a cup of what was likely another round of spiked punch. “You’re all so serious,” Quinn said with a grin. “We’re supposed to be having fun. Come on, Ivy, you can’t possibly be the only one not laughing.”Ivy rolled her eyes but didn’t immediately respond, her attention still fixed on Freya and Cain.“You should join us,” Renold added, giving Ivy a playful nudge. “You too, Cordelia. You’re all too quiet. And, anyway, who needs all the brooding when there’s dancing to be had?”Cordelia shot a glance at Abraxas, whose smirk widened. “Maybe we should, just to keep up the energy,” he suggested, taking a step toward Ivy. “Come on. Freya’s breaking all the rules tonight; what’s stopping you?”Ivy shook her head but couldn’t hide the glimmer of amusement in her eyes. “Fine, fine. But I’m not twirling like them.”“You’re welcome to try,” Abraxas teased. “But I think Freya’s got the upper hand for now.”As the evening unfolded with increasing laughter and the buzz of too much punch, Cordelia couldn’t help but feel the pull of her own good mood. There was something rare in the air tonight. The circle, once so guarded and deliberate in their actions, seemed lighter, more free than she had ever seen them. Even Ivy, the quietest of them all, was slowly warming up to the strange magic of the evening.“I think it’s safe to say we’ve officially broken the tension,” Cordelia said with a contented sigh as the group slowly drifted toward the dance floor.Abraxas chuckled. “I wouldn’t say it’s gone just yet. But at least it’s a good start.”Quinn gave a dramatic sigh as she took another sip of punch. “Maybe we’ll all remember it fondly tomorrow. Or, if we’re lucky, maybe we’ll forget it entirely.”Cordelia smiled as she moved toward the dance floor, Abraxas close behind. “Either way, it’s a night to remember.” ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ As the night stretched on, the warmth of the festivities began to wane, and Abraxas leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “Come with me.”Cordelia’s heart skipped a beat, though she didn’t hesitate. She followed him through the crowd, the murmur of voices and the glow of the chandeliers growing distant with every step. As they approached the door leading out of the Great Hall, she felt the weight of someone’s gaze fall on her like a heavy cloak. She glanced over her shoulder, meeting Riddle’s eyes for a brief, electric moment. His look was piercing, his expression unreadable, and it lingered long after he had turned away.Shaking off the unsettling sensation, Cordelia focused on Abraxas, who was already guiding her up the stone staircase. “Don’t peek,” he said with a playful smirk, though she noticed the tightness in his jaw.Cordelia couldn’t help but roll her eyes, but she complied, keeping her eyes firmly fixed ahead as they climbed higher. The cool night air began to kiss her skin as they reached the top of the Astronomy Tower, where Abraxas finally stopped.“Alright, open them.”She blinked as she stepped into the quiet, open space under the stars. The view was breathtaking—stars glittered like diamonds in the midnight sky, and beneath them was a cozy, tucked-away blanket with cushions and throws, the perfect escape from the noise of the party below. The soft glow of lanterns cast a gentle light across the setup, making it feel like they were the only two people in the world.Cordelia’s breath caught in her throat. “Abraxas, this... this is beautiful.”A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, though it was tinged with something softer, something less guarded than usual. “I thought you might need a break from all the chaos,” he said, his voice quieter than she was used to. There was a hint of nervousness there, a vulnerability that was uncharacteristic for him. “And I wanted to show you something.”They sat together, the sound of the wind in the distance and the quiet hum of the celebration below creating an oddly serene atmosphere. As they settled into the cushions, Abraxas seemed to hesitate, his gaze lingering on the stars for a moment longer than necessary. When he spoke, his voice was softer than usual. “You know, I never thought I’d be here like this… with anyone.”Cordelia turned to him, her heart suddenly racing as she saw the quiet honesty in his eyes, a side of him she hadn’t seen before. Abraxas Malfoy wasn’t the type to open up easily, and this rare glimpse into his more vulnerable side took her by surprise.“I’ve spent so long trying to live up to everyone’s expectations,” he continued, the words flowing more easily now, “I forgot what it was like to just… be. With someone who doesn’t care about all of that. With you.” He paused, looking away for a moment before his gaze returned to hers, more intense than ever. “I think you’ve changed things for me, Cordelia.”She was speechless for a moment, moved by his openness. Abraxas wasn’t one to wear his heart on his sleeve, and to hear him speak so openly, so honestly, felt like a gift.He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, elegant box. Cordelia’s breath caught in her throat as he opened it, revealing a silver necklace. It was exquisite—delicate, with intricate detailing, and the Malfoy crest gleaming subtly on the pendant. Her eyes widened.“Abraxas, you shouldn’t have—” She began, her voice faltering.But he silenced her, gently cupping her chin and leaning in. His kiss was tender, full of emotion, as if he was trying to convey everything he couldn’t put into words. The kiss was soft and lingering, a quiet promise, and when he pulled back, he simply looked at her—his eyes brimming with affection and something deeper, something more profound.“I wanted you to have something,” he whispered, his breath warm against her skin. “Something that’s just for you.”Cordelia, stunned by the depth of his gesture, could hardly find the words. The night, the stars, the quiet intimacy of the moment—everything felt like it was falling into place. And for the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to simply feel. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The couple made their way back into the Great Hall, the shimmering lights from the enchanted ceiling casting a warm glow over the room. The masked crowd buzzed with energy, laughter echoing as witches and wizards wove through the throng. Cordelia’s hand rested comfortably on Abraxas’ arm as they stepped back into the fold.It didn’t take long for someone to approach. A tall figure in deep emerald robes strode up to them, his owl-feathered mask obscuring his identity but his confident posture marking him as a pureblood of some esteem. He inclined his head slightly toward Abraxas."Malfoy, would you care for a dance with my sister? She’s been dying for the chance." His voice carried a smug tone, as if he was sure Abraxas wouldn’t refuse.Abraxas didn’t hesitate. "No, I don’t—" he started, his tone clipped, but Cordelia interjected gently, a light laugh escaping her lips."No, no. Go on," she said, glancing up at him with a teasing smile. "I don’t mind. I’d hate to spoil the fun."Abraxas frowned, clearly displeased by the suggestion. "Cordelia..."She shook her head, her fingers brushing lightly against his wrist. "Really, it’s fine. Just one dance."Abraxas sighed but relented, squeezing her hand briefly before he let go and was led away. She watched him go, his straight-backed form cutting through the crowd.It wasn’t long before someone else appeared at her side. Cordelia felt his presence before she turned—a dark aura that sent a faint shiver up her spine. Tom Riddle.He held out a goblet to her, filled with the now-notorious punch. "You look like you could use this," he said smoothly, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at his lips.Cordelia took the goblet, cautiously sipping as she glanced at him. "I’m surprised you’re not orchestrating something more grand than delivering drinks."He chuckled lowly, his eyes never leaving hers. "Even I can take a moment to observe." There was a pause before he added, "Did your date already abandon you?"Cordelia narrowed her eyes, standing straighter. "I told him to have fun," she said coolly.The silence that followed was tense, and Cordelia turned her head slightly to avoid his piercing gaze. But she should have known better than to think Riddle would simply let her be.Riddle’s gaze flicked briefly to the necklace, but he didn’t linger on it. Instead, his attention sharpened on Cordelia, his eyes narrowing as if weighing her every movement. “He’s got a hold on you, doesn’t he?”Cordelia lifted her chin, an immediate surge of irritation sweeping over her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”Riddle’s smirk was thin, his voice lowering as he spoke. “It’s not hard to see. He’s marking his territory in his own way—whether he realizes it or not.”The words stung, though she refused to show it. She shook her head, narrowing her eyes at him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”Riddle’s smile twisted ever so slightly, his eyes gleaming with something darker. “Maybe not. But I’d be careful if I were you.”“Careful?” Cordelia’s voice was cold now, her gaze unwavering. “What are you suggesting?”Riddle leaned in just slightly, lowering his voice to a near whisper. “Because you’ve never been one to let anyone control you. But it looks like he’s already doing just that.”Her heart skipped a beat, though she fought to keep her expression steady. “You’re wrong.”Without waiting for him to respond, she spun on her heel, brushing past him and disappearing into the crowd, the weight of his words lingering in the air, too heavy to ignore. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ Cordelia found herself retreating to a dim corner of the hall, her back pressed against a stone pillar. The music and laughter of the party felt miles away, and she welcomed the temporary solitude, trying to steady her breath. She didn’t need Riddle’s unsettling words to ruin her evening."Are you hiding, or just catching your breath?" a voice broke the silence, smooth and unfamiliar.Cordelia spun around, her eyes narrowing at the figure who stood a few paces away. His mask—a sleek black design—obscured his features, but his imposing stature and broad shoulders gave him away.He stepped closer, and his voice took on a teasing edge. "You look absolutely magnificent tonight.""Thank you," she said, her response clipped, the coldness in her tone unmistakable. She had no interest in encouraging him.But the man wasn’t deterred. "A beauty like you shouldn’t be standing alone. How about a dance?""No, thank you," she replied firmly, crossing her arms in a clear signal to end the conversation.He paused, his lips curling into a soft laugh. "Ah, playing hard to get, I see. I enjoy a good challenge."Cordelia’s gaze hardened. "I’m not playing anything. I said no."The man’s eyes twinkled with amusement, but he made no move to back off. Slowly, he lifted a hand to his mask, pulling it away with deliberate slowness. Recognition hit her instantly.Richard Carter. The Slytherin Quidditch captain.Her lips curled into a smirk that didn’t reach her eyes. "Of course, it’s you."Carter’s grin faltered, his jaw tightening. "You’d do well to watch your tone, Blackwood."Cordelia’s eyes gleamed with a mixture of defiance and satisfaction. "And you’d do well to watch your manners," she shot back. "But I suppose those don’t matter much to you, do they?"The sharpness of her words stung him, and the look on his face was all the confirmation she needed. With a final glance, she turned on her heel and strode away, leaving him fuming in the corner, his ego bruised but unbroken. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ By the time Cordelia returned to Abraxas and their group, her mood had lifted slightly. Abraxas was the first to notice her approach, immediately handing her a fresh goblet. His eyes softened with concern as she flashed him a warm smile.The group had gathered near the punch table, their laughter rising in volume as the effects of the spiked drink began to take hold. Cordelia felt the pleasant buzz, her reactions slowing just enough for her to enjoy the moment more fully, her spirits rising with each passing second.When the music shifted to a slow waltz, Abraxas held out his hand with a grin. "Shall we?"Cordelia set her goblet aside, her smile matching his as she took his hand. As they moved toward the center of the floor, their movements flowed seamlessly together. The weightlessness of the dance felt like a balm for her earlier frustrations, and the world around her seemed to blur into the background as they twirled in sync.But then her eyes wandered across the room, and her chest tightened.Tom Riddle was dancing with Lucinda Flint, his every step measured and controlled, as always. But it wasn’t his precise movements that caught her attention—it was the look on his face. He wasn’t focused on Lucinda; his gaze was fixed on her.Cordelia’s jaw clenched, an uneasy sensation spreading through her. Riddle’s lips curled into a smirk, the kind that suggested he knew exactly what was running through her mind, like a silent challenge thrown her way.The sharp pang of discomfort that bloomed in her chest was unwelcome, but she didn’t let it show. With deliberate effort, she shifted her focus back to Abraxas, her smile returning as she buried the strange feeling deep down. She wouldn’t let Riddle’s silent games ruin this. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The soft strains of the orchestra signaled the end of the dance, and Cordelia reluctantly stepped back from Abraxas, her lips curving into a small smile. He looked at her as if she hung the stars themselves, his expression open and full of adoration."You’re truly stunning tonight, Cordelia," he said quietly, his voice low enough that only she could hear.She laughed softly, touching his arm. "You flatter me too much, Brax.""Never," he replied with a grin.As the crowd began to shift, making way for the next pair of dancers, Cordelia let her gaze flicker toward the rest of the hall. The spiked punch was clearly taking effect on some of their friends, laughter echoing from the cluster of Knights."I’ll be back shortly," Cordelia said, smoothing the front of her gown. "I just need to freshen up."Abraxas looked as though he wanted to protest but caught himself. "Don’t take too long," he said, though the glimmer in his eyes showed he trusted her.She smiled reassuringly and slipped away, weaving through the crowd and heading toward the dimly lit corridors.The farther Cordelia walked from the Great Hall, the quieter it became. Her heels clicked softly against the stone floor, the faint echo unsettling in the silence. She glanced over her shoulder more than once, a strange prickling sensation creeping up her spine.The sensation that she wasn’t alone.Her hand instinctively brushed against the inside pocket of her gown, where her wand rested. Her fingers curled around the familiar shape, and she pulled it free, holding it tightly as she continued down the corridor."Don’t be ridiculous," she muttered to herself, though her pace quickened.Every few steps, she stopped and turned, her eyes scanning the shadows. But there was no one. Only the flickering torches and the oppressive silence of the empty halls.By the time she reached the lavatories, her nerves were frayed, but nothing had happened. She took a deep breath, letting out a quiet, self-deprecating laugh as she pushed the door open.Cordelia stepped into the dimly lit lavatory, the cool marble walls echoing her hurried breath. She leaned against the sink, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her chest rose and fell quickly, and she fought to calm herself. It was nothing, she told herself. Paranoia from the punch, perhaps.She ran her hands under the cold water, splashing it onto her face, and let out a shuddering breath. After adjusting the straps of her gown and smoothing her hair, she glanced over her shoulder at the silent room behind her. The eerie stillness settled over her, prickling her nerves.Pushing the unease aside, she turned to leave. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The spiked punch was still making her head spin, her thoughts sluggish as she walked through the quiet corridor. The dim lighting blurred at the edges, and every sound seemed distant yet far too loud at the same time.Her heels clicked against the stone floor, the echoing sound bouncing off the empty walls. Something about the silence unsettled her. It felt too heavy, too deliberate.She stopped abruptly, glancing over her shoulder. Her vision swam slightly as she squinted into the darkness, but there was no one there.Her fingers brushed against the concealed pocket of her gown, and with shaky hands, she pulled out her wand. "Better safe than sorry," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbeat.Her grip was clumsy, and the wand felt heavier than usual in her hand. She swayed slightly as she turned back toward the lavatory, trying to shake off the drowsy haze clouding her mind.She took one unsteady step forward, then another, before she froze.He was there.Richard Carter leaned casually against the wall, his mask gone, and the twisted smirk on his face sent a chill down her spine. His eyes raked over her, dark and predatory, as though he were savoring the sight of her."Well, well," he drawled, pushing off the wall and stepping into her path. "Look who decided to wander off all alone."Cordelia’s breath hitched as she instinctively raised her wand, her movements sluggish and uncoordinated. "Get out of my way, Carter," she said, slurring slightly as she tried to focus.He laughed, a low, cruel sound that made her stomach churn. "You’re not looking so steady there, sweetheart," he said, his voice dripping with mock concern. "Too much punch, perhaps?"Cordelia blinked, trying to steady herself, but the ground seemed to tilt beneath her feet. "I said, get out of my way," she repeated, her voice less firm this time.Carter’s grin widened as he closed the distance between them. "Or what?" he taunted. "You’re going to hex me? In your condition?"Before she could react, he lunged forward, grabbing her wrist and twisting it sharply. Pain shot through her arm, and her wand slipped from her grasp, clattering to the floor and rolling out of reach."Oops," he said mockingly, kicking the wand farther down the hall. "Looks like you’re all out of options."Cordelia struggled, thrashing against him as he backed her against the wall. His hands were everywhere, rough and insistent as he pinned her wrists above her head."You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this," he hissed, his breath hot against her ear. "Watching you parade around like you’re too good for the rest of us. Malfoy’s perfect little doll.""Get off me!" Cordelia screamed, her voice echoing down the corridor.Carter’s hand clamped over her mouth, muffling her cries. "Shut up," he snarled, his eyes gleaming with a sickening mixture of rage and lust. "You don’t want anyone to see you like this, do you? Poor little Cordelia, all messed up and ruined."His free hand moved to her chest, squeezing hard enough to make her cry out in pain. She bucked against him, her nails digging into his arm as she tried to twist free."Stop squirming," he snapped, slapping her hard across the face. The sting of the blow left her reeling, her vision blurring as he leaned in closer. "You’re only making this worse for yourself."His lips crashed against hers, bruising and cruel as he forced her head back. Cordelia turned her face away, but Carter grabbed her jaw, his fingers digging into her skin as he forced her to look at him."You think you’re so much better than the rest of us, don’t you?" he sneered. "But you’re not. You’re just a pretty little toy. Malfoy’s toy—but tonight, you’re mine.""Stop it," she cried, her voice breaking. "Please, stop."Carter ignored her, his hands sliding up her thighs as he pressed his body harder against hers. "Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for this?" he growled, his lips brushing against her neck.His teeth grazed her skin, and Cordelia gasped as he bit down, hard enough to leave a mark. She tried to knee him, but her movements were slow, her limbs heavy and uncooperative."Feisty," Carter muttered, grabbing her leg and forcing it back down. "But not feisty enough."His hands moved to the laces of her gown, yanking at them roughly. The sound of ripping fabric filled the air, and Cordelia’s stomach dropped as panic surged through her."No!" she screamed, thrashing wildly. Her nails raked down his face, leaving angry red scratches, but it only seemed to enrage him further."Please," she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "Don’t do this."But Carter only laughed, a cold, hollow sound that sent a chill down her spine. "Begging already?" he taunted. "I thought you’d put up more of a fight."His hand slid up her thigh, and Cordelia thrashed wildly, her nails raking down his face. He cursed, grabbing her hair and yanking her head back with brutal force."You’re making this harder than it needs to be," he growled, his voice thick with anger and desire. "But I like a challenge."He bit down on her neck, the sharp pain making her cry out as she struggled against him. Her nails clawed at his arms, leaving deep scratches, but it only seemed to spur him on."You’re so beautiful like this," he murmured, his lips trailing down her collarbone. "So helpless. So perfect."Cordelia’s struggles grew weaker as Carter’s hand pressed harder over her mouth, muffling her cries. His other hand roamed freely, pulling at her torn dress, his lips leaving bruising kisses along her neck and shoulders. The metallic taste of blood lingered in her mouth where she had bitten her lip in desperation. Tears streamed down her face as she clawed at him, her nails leaving angry red marks on his arms, but it wasn’t enough."Stop squirming," Carter growled, biting down harshly on her collarbone.Her vision blurred with tears, her body trembling with exhaustion. She felt the weight of him suffocating her, his cruel laugh vibrating against her skin. She prayed for anything—a miracle, a burst of strength, something—anything to save her.And then, suddenly, Carter was gone.The crushing weight vanished, and Cordelia collapsed against the wall, gasping for air as she clutched the remnants of her gown to her chest. She blinked through her tears, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps.When she looked up, she saw Tom Riddle.His wand was drawn, and his expression was a mask of cold, unrelenting fury. The air around him seemed to crackle with power, his eyes dark and murderous as they fixed on Carter, who lay sprawled on the floor, frozen in place by the force of Riddle’s magic.Riddle flicked his wand, and Carter’s body went rigid, his limbs locking together in a perfect Petrificus Totalus.Without sparing Carter another glance, Riddle moved to Cordelia, crouching down in front of her. His sharp features softened ever so slightly as he took in her tear-streaked face and trembling frame."Cordelia," he said, his voice quieter than she expected, though the underlying tension was unmistakable. "Can you hear me?"She didn’t respond, her eyes unfocused as sobs wracked her body. Riddle hesitated, clearly unsure of how to proceed. He reached out but stopped short of touching her, his hand hovering awkwardly near her shoulder."Blackwood," he tried again, his tone firm but not unkind. "You’re safe now. He can’t hurt you anymore."Cordelia blinked slowly, her gaze finally meeting his. Her lips trembled as fresh tears welled up in her eyes."Come on," Riddle said, standing and offering his hand. "We need to get you cleaned up."She hesitated before nodding weakly, her trembling hand slipping into his. He pulled her gently to her feet, his other hand moving to steady her when she stumbled. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ Riddle guided her towards the windows, his movements careful and deliberate as though afraid she might break,"Stay here. Just for a moment."Cordelia nodded numbly, her arms wrapping tightly around herself as she leaned against the counter.Riddle turned back to the door, walking towards the lavatories, his gaze falling on Carter’s immobilized form. His jaw tightened, and he flicked his wand, levitating Carter’s rigid body into the air. Without a word, he dragged him into the bathroom and stopped in front of the sinks."Open," Riddle hissed in Parseltongue, his voice low and venomous.The sink at the far end of the room shifted and twisted, revealing the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. His focus was solely on Carter as he moved closer to the dark, gaping hole in the floor. With a flick of his wand, he sent Carter’s body hurtling into the chamber’s depths. The sound of his fall disappeared into the void, and the entrance closed behind him with a final, resounding thud.Riddle walked outside back to Cordelia, his expression unreadable. "Can you stand?" he asked, his voice calmer now.Cordelia nodded weakly, though her legs felt like jelly beneath her. Riddle stepped closer, his hand hovering near her elbow as he guided her through the winding corridors. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ When they reached the Room of Requirement, the door materialized out of the wall at Riddle’s command. He opened it and led her inside. The room was quiet and dimly lit, furnished with dark wood pieces and lined with shelves of books. It radiated an air of secluded calm, perfectly tailored to Riddle’s need for privacy.Cordelia barely registered the change in surroundings. Her shoulders slumped, her steps slow and heavy as she followed him. The room, sensing her state, had provided a plush chair near a fireplace and a faint, soothing warmth that seemed to hug the edges of the space."Wait here," Riddle said softly, moving toward a wardrobe that the room had conjured. He opened it and retrieved a neatly folded shirt and soft flannel trousers, placing them on a small table near her."The room provided these," he explained, his tone neutral yet purposeful. "You can change into them. Can you manage?"Cordelia nodded weakly, her voice a hoarse whisper. "I can."Riddle gestured to an adjoining door that had appeared on one wall. "There’s a washroom through there. Take as much time as you need."She moved toward the door without a word, her steps dragging. Inside, the washroom was simple yet inviting, a basin of warm water already waiting for her along with a soft towel. Cordelia caught sight of her reflection in the mirror and winced. Her makeup was smeared, her skin marked with bruises and red welts. Her fingers trembled as she touched her neck, a bitter lump forming in her throat.It took her several minutes to gather herself. After cleaning her face and pulling on the soft, oversized clothes, she felt marginally better. The room’s choice of attire felt oddly thoughtful, like an unspoken reassurance she desperately needed.When she emerged, Riddle was standing near the fireplace, his hands clasped behind his back. His gaze shifted to her as she entered, and for a moment, something almost like concern flickered in his dark eyes."You should rest," he said, his voice quieter than usual. He moved to a low bed that had materialized against one wall, pulling back the blankets with a precision that seemed out of place for him.Cordelia hesitated before sitting down, the plush mattress sinking slightly under her weight. She climbed beneath the blankets, her body trembling as she tried to find comfort.Riddle adjusted the covers around her, his movements uncharacteristically gentle. He lingered by the bedside, watching her closely. "You’re safe now," he said, his tone low and even.As he straightened, Cordelia’s hand shot out, grabbing his wrist. Her grip was feeble, but her desperation was palpable. "Don’t leave me," she whispered, her voice breaking as tears welled in her eyes again. "Please."Riddle froze, his expression tightening. For a moment, he looked at her, the mask of detachment slipping just enough to reveal a flicker of conflict."I have to deal with something," he said after a long pause, his voice measured but softer than usual. "But I’ll come back. I promise."Cordelia’s grip loosened reluctantly, her hand falling back to the blanket. She curled into herself, her sobs quieting as exhaustion overtook her. Her breaths evened out slowly, though a faint tremor still ran through her.Riddle stood there for a moment longer, watching her with an intensity that seemed almost foreign to him. Then, with one last glance, he turned and left, the door of the Room of Requirement closing soundlessly behind him. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The heavy door of the Chamber of Secrets sealed shut behind Riddle with a deep, echoing rumble. The faint, flickering light from his wand cast long, jagged shadows across the serpentine carvings on the walls. The air was damp and heavy, carrying the scent of ancient stone and stagnant water.Richard Carter lay sprawled on the cold floor, his face twisted in terror, but his body locked still from the spell. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his eyes darting wildly as Riddle approached, each measured step echoing ominously.Riddle circled him slowly, his hands clasped behind his back. His expression was calm, too calm, as though the entire situation was nothing more than a minor inconvenience."You’ve made a terrible mistake tonight, Carter," Riddle said softly, his voice smooth and cutting. "But you already know that, don’t you?"With a flick of his wand, Riddle released the Petrificus Totalus. Carter gasped, his body jerking as he regained movement. He scrambled to his knees, clutching at the floor as though it might save him."P-please," Carter stammered, his voice trembling. "I didn’t mean—""Didn’t mean to?" Riddle interrupted, his voice sharp as a blade. He crouched down, his dark eyes boring into Carter’s. "You didn’t mean to what, exactly? Pin her against a wall? Tear her dress? Leave her trembling and crying on the floor like a broken doll?"Carter flinched, his lips trembling as he struggled to respond. "It was the punch! I wasn’t thinking—I—""The punch," Riddle repeated, his tone mocking as he stood again, his wand twisting idly between his fingers. "So, you’re blaming your actions on alcohol. How original."He leaned down again, his tone dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Do you think that makes you less guilty, Carter? Less disgusting? Less of a failure of a human being?""I’m sorry," Carter croaked, his voice barely audible.Riddle tilted his head, his lips curling into a cold smile. "Oh, you’re sorry." His wand flicked, and Carter’s body jerked violently, the first wave of the Cruciatus Curse tearing through him. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ In the Great Hall, the music continued to play, and laughter echoed through the crowd. Abraxas Malfoy stood near the punch table, his jaw tight as he scanned the room. Cordelia was nowhere to be found."You’re worrying over nothing," Ivy said, standing beside him and sipping her drink."It’s been too long," Abraxas muttered, his voice low.Freya joined them, her brow furrowed. "Maybe she just needed some air," she offered.Abraxas shook his head. "No, she would have told me if she was going outside. I’m checking the lavatories."The three of them made their way toward the lavatories, Abraxas’ heart pounding with unease. He knocked on the door of the girls’ lavatory, calling out softly. "Cordelia? Are you in there?"Silence.Ivy exchanged a worried glance with Freya, and they stepped inside to check. Moments later, they returned, shaking their heads."She’s not there," Ivy said, her voice tinged with worry now.Abraxas ran a hand through his hair, frustration and fear swirling in his chest. "She wouldn’t just disappear," he muttered, turning on his heel.They made their way to the Ravenclaw tower, checking Cordelia’s dormitory, but there was still no sign of her. Abraxas clenched his fists, his mind racing."Where is she?" he muttered under his breath. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ Back in the chamber, Carter writhed on the ground, his screams echoing through the cavernous space. Riddle’s expression was one of cold detachment, his wand moving with precision as he cast the curse again and again, each wave of pain more intense than the last."Do you know what I hate most about people like you, Carter?" Riddle asked, his voice calm and steady despite the fury burning in his eyes. "You think your privilege makes you invincible. That you can take what you want without consequence."He lowered his wand, letting Carter catch his breath. The boy’s body shook violently, his gasps ragged and broken."You disgust me," Riddle continued, crouching beside him. "You humiliated her. You dared to lay your filthy hands on her as though she were yours to take."Carter whimpered, tears streaming down his battered face. "I—I didn’t—""Silence," Riddle snapped, his voice sharp and commanding. "You don’t get to speak. You don’t get to make excuses."For a moment, Riddle’s expression flickered, a shadow of something darker passing over his face."I grew up with people like you," he said softly, his tone almost reflective. "Boys in that miserable orphanage, thinking they could push me around, thinking they could take whatever they wanted because no one cared enough to stop them."His wand twitched, and Carter cried out as the Cruciatus Curse hit him again."But they learned," Riddle continued, his voice harder now. "I made sure of it."He lowered his wand and straightened, his composure slipping as his fury consumed him."I’ve had enough of this," he muttered, tossing his wand aside.He grabbed Carter by the collar of his robes, hauling him to his knees. Without warning, his fist connected with Carter’s jaw, the sound of the impact echoing through the chamber. Blood sprayed across the floor as Carter crumpled, but Riddle wasn’t finished.Blow after blow rained down, each strike more brutal than the last. Riddle’s knuckles split, the pain fueling his anger as he pounded into Carter’s already broken body. Blood covered his hands, his face, and the floor beneath them, but he didn’t stop.By the time Riddle finally stepped back, Carter was barely conscious, his face a mangled mess of blood and bruises. Riddle stood over him, breathing heavily, his bloodied fists trembling at his sides.After Carter’s broken body lay crumpled on the chamber floor, Riddle tilted his head slightly, as if considering his next move. His expression, now calm and detached, betrayed none of the storm that had raged within him moments before.“You’re pathetic,” Riddle said softly, his voice laced with disdain. “Pathetic and predictable. I don’t even need to kill you to ruin you.”Carter whimpered weakly, his swollen eyes barely able to focus on Riddle. Blood bubbled at the corners of his mouth as he tried to speak.“I’ll—do—anything,” he croaked, his voice barely above a whisper.Riddle crouched down again, his cold, sharp gaze locking onto Carter’s. “Oh, you will,” he murmured. “You’re going to leave this chamber and explain your... condition. Here’s how it’s going to happen.”Carter flinched, his breath hitching as Riddle’s wand lightly tapped against his temple.“You’ll tell everyone you had too much punch,” Riddle continued, his voice smooth and deliberate. “That you got so drunk, you lost your footing and fell down the moving staircase.” He smiled faintly, the kind of smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s humiliating enough that no one will question it, and it conveniently explains why you look like you’ve been trampled by a herd of hippogriffs.”“Please,” Carter rasped, tears streaming down his battered face.Riddle leaned in closer, his tone dropping to a menacing whisper. “And if you ever look at her again, if you even think about her, I’ll ensure that what you’ve suffered tonight will feel like mercy. Do you understand me?”Carter nodded frantically, his entire body trembling.Riddle straightened, brushing off his robes as though shaking away the filth. With a flick of his wand, he levitated Carter’s broken body into the air.“Let’s set the stage, shall we?” Riddle muttered, more to himself than to Carter. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ Riddle leaned against the edge of the sink, his bloodied hands trembling faintly as he stared into the mirror. His reflection was a study in contrasts: his face calm, his breathing steady, but his eyes ablaze with unspent rage. The storm beneath his composed exterior threatened to break free, yet he held it in check with an iron will.With a flick of his wand, the blood vanished from his skin and robes, leaving him as immaculate as ever. The magic worked effortlessly, but the act of cleaning himself did little to quell the tempest within. He straightened, smoothing his sleeves as if the gesture alone could restore his control.When he emerged from the bathroom, his wand was already raised, guiding the floating, lifeless form of Richard Carter through the dimly lit corridors. The Slytherin captain groaned weakly, but Riddle paid him no mind, his expression an unreadable mask.They reached the moving staircases, the faint creak of the enchanted steps echoing in the silence. Riddle paused, his lips curling into a faint, chilling smirk. He levitated Carter higher, the boy’s limp body swaying precariously over the edge of the banister.“This,” Riddle began, his tone almost conversational, “is where your recklessness finally caught up with you.”With a deliberate flick of his wand, he released the levitation spell. Carter’s body plummeted, tumbling down the stone steps with a sickening series of thuds. The groans of pain that escaped Carter’s lips echoed through the empty space, mingling with the harsh sound of his limbs hitting the stone.Riddle descended slowly, each step deliberate, his gaze fixed on the broken figure sprawled at the base of the staircase. Carter lay motionless now, his limbs twisted at unnatural angles, his chest heaving shallowly. Riddle tilted his head slightly, as though examining a piece of art.“Perfect,” he murmured, satisfaction lacing his voice. The scene was exactly as he intended—a tragic accident waiting to be discovered by the unsuspecting students or staff who would soon populate the halls.With one last glance, Riddle turned on his heel, his steps fading into the shadows as he disappeared into the labyrinth of the castle, leaving behind the shattered remnants of Richard Carter. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ Back in the Ravenclaw common room, Abraxas paced furiously, his frustration mounting with every passing moment. Freya and Ivy sat nearby, their worried expressions mirroring his.“She’s not here,” Abraxas said for the third time, running a hand through his hair. “She wouldn’t just vanish like this.”Freya stood, placing a hand on his arm. “We’ll find her. Maybe she’s just in one of the dorms.”“She wouldn’t just leave without saying anything,” Abraxas interrupted, his voice tight with worry. He turned abruptly and headed for the stairs leading to the girls’ dormitories.“Wait, you can’t just go barging in there!” Freya called after him, but he ignored her.Stopping at the base of the staircase, Abraxas hesitated. The spell that kept boys out of the girls’ dorms was a well-known barrier, but desperation overrode caution. He tried to step forward, only to be forcefully pushed back by the magic.“Damn it!” he hissed under his breath, gripping the banister tightly.“She’s not there, Abraxas,” Ivy said softly from behind him. “We would have seen her come in.”He turned back to them, his face a mixture of frustration and fear. “Then where is she? This isn’t like her.”Freya exchanged a glance with Ivy, her own unease growing. “Maybe she’s somewhere else in the castle, somewhere she feels safe.”Abraxas shook his head. “I’ve already checked every other place she’d normally go. The library, the Astronomy Tower, even the bloody kitchens. It’s like she’s just... disappeared.”Ivy sighed, glancing toward the window. “We’ll keep looking,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction.Abraxas didn’t reply, his mind racing as he stared out at the darkened grounds. Something wasn’t right. He could feel it. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The corridor outside the Room of Requirement was silent, save for the faint echo of Riddle’s measured footsteps. His mind raced with a thousand thoughts, but the one that kept surfacing, no matter how much he tried to suppress it, was her.Cordelia.He clenched his fists as he approached the wall where the door would appear, his jaw tightening at the memory of her tear-streaked face and trembling body. He hated how vulnerable she’d looked—how small. It was a sight he never wanted to see again, though he couldn’t quite understand why.The door appeared, materializing out of the stone, and Riddle pushed it open with deliberate calm. Inside, the room was dimly lit, the warm glow of enchanted lanterns casting a soft light over the space. A large four-poster bed dominated the center, its dark green curtains partially drawn.Cordelia lay curled up beneath the blankets, her breathing slow and even as she slept. Her hair was a tangled halo around her face, her lips slightly parted, and her cheeks still bore faint streaks from her earlier tears. She looked fragile, almost breakable, but there was a quiet strength in her even now.Riddle stood in the doorway for a long moment, his dark eyes fixed on her. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, as though afraid that any noise might shatter the fragile peace of the moment.He stepped closer, his footsteps silent against the plush carpet. His gaze lingered on her face, tracing the curve of her cheek, the flutter of her lashes as she shifted slightly in her sleep. There was something almost hypnotic about the way she looked now—at ease, vulnerable, and yet untouchable in a way he couldn’t quite place.Riddle’s jaw tightened as he thought back to the chamber, to the overwhelming rage that had consumed him when he saw Carter’s filthy hands on her. It wasn’t just anger; it was something deeper, something primal and uncontrollable. He’d felt it in the way his magic had surged, in the way his fists had connected with Carter’s face over and over again.And now, standing here, he didn’t know what to make of it.He wasn’t supposed to feel like this—this strange, gnawing protectiveness, this fury at the thought of anyone hurting her. He’d built his life on control, on eliminating weakness and sentimentality. Emotions like these were dangerous, distracting, and entirely unwelcome.Yet, as he looked at her now, he couldn’t shake the thought that she had a way of unbalancing him, forcing him to feel things he didn’t want to feel—and that unsettled him more than he cared to admit. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The first light of dawn filtered through the enchanted windows of the Room of Requirement, casting a pale glow over the room. Cordelia stirred beneath the soft blankets, her body aching in places she didn’t want to think about. Every movement felt heavy, and her mind swam in a fog of exhaustion and dread.When she opened her eyes, the sight of Tom Riddle sitting in a chair near the bed brought her fully awake. He was silent, his posture relaxed, but his dark eyes were fixed on her, sharp and watchful.Cordelia shifted slightly, clutching the blanket closer to her chest. Her voice, when she spoke, was hoarse and unsteady. “Where… are we?”“The Room of Requirement,” Riddle replied evenly, his tone as calm as ever.Cordelia’s brow furrowed, confusion flickering across her face. “The Room of Requirement?” she echoed, sitting up slightly. “I’ve read about it, but…” She trailed off, her eyes scanning the space as though trying to piece together the magic at work. “I thought it was just a myth. I could never—”“It exists,” Riddle said simply, cutting through her thoughts. “And it gave us what we needed.” His dark gaze swept over her briefly, then back to the room. “Privacy.”Her fingers tightened on the blanket as she absorbed his words. The awe she might have felt at discovering the legendary room was dulled by the weight of the previous night. Her shoulders sagged slightly, her voice quieter now. “I see.”She nodded faintly, her gaze dropping to the blanket. The silence between them felt stifling, the weight of the previous night pressing down on her chest. After a long pause, she finally asked, her words barely audible, “Why did you…?”Riddle’s dark eyes narrowed slightly, his expression unreadable. “Why did I what?”Her hands tightened around the blanket as she struggled to find the words. “Why did you stop him?” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.Riddle tilted his head, studying her intently. “Would you have preferred I didn’t?”Cordelia flinched at the implication, her fingers trembling against the soft fabric. “No,” she said quickly, her voice cracking. “I just… I don’t understand.”Riddle’s posture didn’t shift, but his tone took on a sharper edge. “I don’t tolerate disorder,” he said flatly. “Carter’s actions were unacceptable. That’s all there is to understand.”Cordelia glanced at him, searching for some sign of compassion or warmth, but his expression was as cold and controlled as ever. She looked away again, her voice breaking as she whispered, “Thank you.”Riddle didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he stood, his wand slipping into his hand as he approached the bed.Cordelia tensed slightly, her body instinctively recoiling. Riddle paused, raising an eyebrow. “Relax,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “I’m not going to hurt you.”He gestured toward her face with his wand. “Hold still.”Her hesitation was brief. She nodded once, her hands gripping the blanket tightly as Riddle muttered a series of incantations. The cut on her lip healed first, the pain quickly ebbing. He moved to her wrists next, his magic erasing the angry bruises left behind.When his gaze fell to her neck, Cordelia flushed, instinctively tugging the blanket higher.“Don’t be childish,” Riddle said sharply, his tone cutting through her hesitation. “I’ve already seen.”She froze, her fingers loosening reluctantly. Riddle leaned in, his wand hovering just above her skin. His movements were precise, his focus unwavering as he worked.When he finished, the room fell into an uneasy silence. Cordelia kept her gaze fixed on the blanket, her fingers twisting the fabric nervously."We leave for Malfoy Manor this afternoon," Riddle said suddenly, breaking the silence.“What happened to him?” she asked suddenly, her voice shaking.Riddle’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing. “Carter,” she clarified, her throat tightening as she forced the name out.“He’s been dealt with,” Riddle said curtly, his tone clipped.Cordelia’s breath hitched, her chest tightening as a thousand unspoken fears and questions bubbled up. “Did you—”“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to,” Riddle interrupted, his voice cold and absolute.Her mouth snapped shut, the unspoken words dying on her tongue. She nodded faintly, her head dipping as she fought to suppress a fresh wave of emotions.Riddle gestured toward the door. “Come on. I’ll walk you back to your common room.” ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The dormitory was dimly lit, the early morning sun casting soft rays across the room. Cordelia’s steps faltered when she saw Abraxas lying on her bed, his arms folded beneath his head as he slept. His brow was furrowed, his expression tense, as though caught in the middle of a bad dream.Her heart clenched as she approached him quietly, her movements slow and deliberate. She stopped at the edge of the bed, watching him for a moment. His platinum hair was slightly disheveled, a stray lock falling across his forehead.Without thinking, Cordelia reached out, her fingers trembling slightly as they brushed the hair away from his face. The gesture was soft, almost reverent, as though she were afraid of disturbing him.Her touch lingered for a moment longer than it should have, and her heart ached at the sight of his sleeping face. Despite his usual confidence, there was something almost boyish about him now, his features softened by sleep.She leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. "I’m sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible.Abraxas stirred, his brow furrowing slightly before his eyes fluttered open. For a moment, he looked disoriented, but when he saw her, his expression shifted to relief—and then anger."Cordelia," he snapped, sitting up quickly. His hands immediately found her arms, gripping them firmly as he searched her face, his gaze sharp. "Where the hell have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you!" His voice was laced with frustration, his body tense as if ready to fight off any threat.Cordelia flinched slightly at the force of his touch, but the tension of the night seemed to melt away when she looked at him. She swallowed, struggling to find the words, but they wouldn’t come. She felt empty, worn down by the weight of the events that had unfolded, and all she wanted was to feel safe again, to feel normal for once.“I—I don’t —” she muttered, her voice trembling, her eyes lowering. She could feel the weight of the last few hours pressing down on her chest, but the thought of talking about it made her stomach twist painfully.Her hands clenched around the blanket at her waist, and she turned toward him, unable to keep the distance between them. Abraxas’s gaze softened slightly as she slowly climbed onto the bed, pressing her body to his. His anger faltered, replaced by something gentler, though still clouded by worry.Without saying anything, she buried her face in his chest, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. Abraxas stiffened for a moment, but then he sighed and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. His touch was warm and reassuring, and it was exactly what she needed.“I’m here,” he murmured into her hair, his hand gently stroking her back. His voice was soft, tender—protective. “You’re safe now.”Cordelia closed her eyes, letting the sound of his heartbeat lull her into a sense of security. She didn’t want to think, didn’t want to remember. All she wanted was to feel his arms around her, to forget everything else. The world outside felt too loud, too overwhelming. But here, with him, it was different.Abraxas kissed the top of her head, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on her back. “I don’t know what happened,” he whispered, though he didn’t expect an answer. His voice was thick with concern. “But I’ll be here. I won’t let anything hurt you.”Cordelia just nodded against him, her hands gripping his shirt as she let out a shaky breath. She didn’t need to explain. Not yet. Not when she was with him. She simply needed to feel loved and safe, even if for just a little while.For now, that was enough.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Chapter 12

The soft glow of the early morning sun filtered through the curtains of the Ravenclaw dormitory, casting a gentle light over the room. Abraxas Malfoy lay on his side atop Cordelia’s bed, his sharp features softened by the quiet calm of the moment.His eyes lingered on her as she slept, her face tucked into the pillow and her breathing slow and even. She looked peaceful now, but the memory of how she’d appeared only a few hours earlier still lingered in his mind—her eyes hollow, her movements stiff, and her voice trembling when she’d quietly asked him to stay with her.He’d wanted to ask her then, to press her for answers about what had happened, but the haunted look in her eyes had stopped him. Instead, he’d just wrapped his arms around her and stayed by her side, offering silent comfort.Now, as he watched her, his gaze softened further. She was so different when she was asleep—no sharp wit, no walls to keep others out. Just Cordelia, vulnerable and raw. A strand of her hair had fallen across her face, and without thinking, Abraxas reached out to brush it away.His fingertips lingered against her cheek, the warmth of her skin grounding him in a way he didn’t fully understand.Cordelia stirred under his touch, her brow furrowing slightly as her eyes fluttered open. For a moment, she looked disoriented, her gaze unfocused as she blinked at the sunlight. Then her eyes settled on him, and her lips parted in a soft breath of surprise.“Brax?” she murmured, her voice husky from sleep.“Morning,” he said gently, his hand retreating as he propped himself up on one elbow. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”She blinked again, her expression softening as she let out a small sigh. “It’s fine. I should be up anyway.”But her voice lacked its usual energy, and Abraxas noticed the faint shadows under her eyes, the way her shoulders seemed to sag even as she sat up.“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” he asked, his tone careful, though the concern was evident in his silver-gray eyes.Cordelia offered him a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m just tired,” she said quietly.Abraxas didn’t push further, though the urge to press her for answers gnawed at him. Instead, he reached out and gently took her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Why don’t you get dressed while I take care of your trunk?”“You don’t have to—” she began, but he cut her off with a small smirk.“I insist,” he said, his voice lighter now, though his touch remained steady and grounding. “Besides, you’ve got to save your energy for meeting my parents later. Trust me, you’ll need it.”Cordelia let out a soft laugh, though it sounded more like a huff. “You’re really selling this, Brax,” she said dryly, though the corner of her mouth twitched upward.“Go on,” he urged, nodding toward her wardrobe. “I’ll handle the heavy lifting.” ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The stone corridors of the castle were unusually quiet as Cordelia and Abraxas made their way toward the dungeons. Cordelia walked beside him, her hands clasped loosely in front of her, the sound of their footsteps echoing faintly against the walls.“We just need to swing by the common room so I can grab my trunk,” Abraxas said, glancing at her. “Unless you’d like to come in and see what all the fuss is about?”Cordelia smiled faintly, shaking her head. “I’m fine. I’ll wait outside.”Abraxas smirked. “Suit yourself. I won’t take long.”As they reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room, Cordelia leaned against a nearby stone pillar, her gaze drifting to the ground as Abraxas disappeared inside. The low murmur of distant voices echoed faintly through the corridor, but otherwise, it was eerily still.She let out a quiet sigh, her fingers absently brushing over the hem of her coat. Her mind wandered, the events of the previous night replaying in fragmented flashes—the cold touch of Carter’s hands, the suffocating weight of his body, and the unrelenting panic that had gripped her.Suddenly, the faint sound of uneven footsteps pulled her from her thoughts. She straightened, her eyes narrowing as a shadow moved at the far end of the hallway.The figure was slumped, their gait unsteady as they limped toward the Slytherin common room. At first, Cordelia thought it was a student who’d simply had too much punch at the ball, but as they drew closer, the breath caught in her throat.It was Richard Carter.He looked like he’d crawled out of a battlefield. His robes were in tatters, smeared with blood and dirt, and his face—oh, Merlin, his face—was barely recognizable. His nose was crooked, clearly broken, and dark bruises bloomed across his cheeks and jaw. His eyes were swollen to near slits, and cuts littered his face like an intricate web of pain.Cordelia’s hand flew to her mouth, a small gasp escaping her lips. Carter froze mid-step, his battered body swaying slightly as his bloodshot eyes met hers.For a moment, they simply stared at each other—her gaze filled with shock, his with something closer to shame or fury. Then, as though realizing he couldn’t bear to hold her gaze any longer, Carter turned his head sharply and quickened his pace, wincing with every uneven step.He reached the common room door just as it swung open, revealing Abraxas with his trunk levitating neatly behind him.Abraxas stopped short, his gray eyes widening briefly before his lips curled into a sneer. “Bloody hell, Carter,” he drawled, his tone dripping with disdain. “You look like you’ve been mauled by a hippogriff. Or did someone shove you off a broom again?”Carter clenched his jaw, his battered hands tightening into fists at his sides as he avoided Abraxas’ gaze.“Wait, don’t tell me,” Abraxas continued, his smirk growing wider. “You finally challenged someone to a duel and forgot how to cast a proper shield charm, didn’t you?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Honestly, Carter, how do you even survive?”Carter’s battered lips twitched, as though he were fighting the urge to retort, but he simply pressed on toward the door, his eyes blazing with silent fury.Abraxas wasn’t finished. He tilted his head, his smirk taking on a mocking edge. “Or was this payback from a girl you finally managed to offend? Merlin knows you’ve got a talent for that.”At that, Carter paused, his shoulders stiffening. He glanced over his shoulder, shooting Abraxas a glare with his one good eye before disappearing into the common room without a word.“Pathetic,” Abraxas muttered under his breath, shaking his head.He turned to Cordelia, his expression softening immediately as he approached her. “What are you doing all the way back here?” he asked lightly, his hand reaching out to rest on the small of her back.Cordelia blinked, forcing herself to focus. “Nothing,” she said quickly, her voice tight.Abraxas raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. “Well, come on,” he said, his tone warm as he guided her away from the common room. “Let’s get to the carriages before the crowd starts forming.” ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The carriage ride was quiet, the soft clatter of hooves on the path filling the silence between them. Cordelia leaned her head against the window, her gaze distant as the familiar landscape of Hogwarts passed by.Abraxas sat beside her, his arm resting along the back of the seat. He didn’t say much, but his presence was steady, a quiet reassurance in the wake of her turmoil.As they neared the station, he finally spoke. “You know,” he began, his tone light, “it wouldn’t kill you to let me carry your things more often.”Cordelia glanced at him, her lips curving into a faint smile. “It might,” she teased softly, though the usual bite in her tone was absent.Abraxas smirked. “Well, I’ll take my chances.”As the carriage came to a gentle stop just outside Hogsmeade Station, Cordelia took a deep breath, trying to ground herself. She wasn’t ready to see anyone—not after everything that had happened—but there was no avoiding it.Abraxas jumped down first, turning back to offer her his hand. Cordelia hesitated for a moment before taking it, allowing him to help her down onto the snow-dusted ground.“Freya and Ivy should be here already,” she murmured, scanning the crowded platform.“They’re probably waiting for you by the train,” Abraxas replied.Sure enough, a few moments later, she spotted Ivy’s unmistakable red scarf and Freya’s bouncing curls weaving through the throng of students.“Cordelia!” Freya called, her voice bright and cheerful. She waved enthusiastically as she approached, her cheeks pink from the cold.Cordelia forced a smile, though it felt hollow. “Hey,” she said softly, pulling Freya into a quick hug.Ivy followed, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied Cordelia’s face. “You look like you’ve barely slept. Where were you last night anyway?” she said, her tone blunt as always.“Thanks for the observation. I was just taking a stroll.” Cordelia muttered, though there was no bite in her words.Freya nudged Ivy with her elbow. “Leave her alone,” she scolded lightly. “It’s been a long term.” She turned back to Cordelia, her expression softening. “Make sure you write to us, okay? We want to know all about the Malfoy Manor. Every detail.”“I will,” Cordelia promised, her voice quieter now.After a few more goodbyes and reassurances, Ivy and Freya made their way to the train, leaving Cordelia and Abraxas to wait for the rest of their group.It didn’t take long for the boys to start trickling in. Quinn Fawley was the first to arrive, his signature smirk firmly in place as he greeted Abraxas with a clap on the shoulder. Avery and Lestrange followed shortly after, their demeanors more subdued but no less confident.And then came Tom Riddle.Cordelia’s stomach twisted uncomfortably as her gaze landed on him. He was as composed as ever, his black coat immaculately tailored, and his dark eyes scanning the platform with sharp precision. When his gaze met hers, she immediately looked away, her chest tightening.She couldn’t stop the image of Richard Carter from flashing through her mind—his battered face, his broken body, the way he had limped into the Slytherin common room.
What had Riddle done?
Cordelia clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms. She told herself it wasn’t for her. Riddle didn’t care about her—not like that. Whatever he had done to Carter, it had been for his own reasons. Maybe Carter had crossed him in some other way, or maybe Riddle just enjoyed the violence.Whatever the reason, she couldn’t bring herself to confront him. Not now.“Blackwood,” Riddle said smoothly as he approached, his dark eyes studying her with an intensity that made her throat tighten.Cordelia ignored him, turning slightly to pretend she was adjusting the strap of her bag.“Cordelia,” he said again, his voice quieter now, almost questioning.Still, she didn’t respond.Abraxas, noticing the tension, stepped closer to her, his hand resting protectively on the small of her back. “Let’s get to the train,” he said, his tone light but firm as he led her toward the carriages waiting to load luggage.Riddle’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he turned away, his expression unreadable.The train platform buzzed with the sounds of students and staff preparing for departure. The Knights gathered near the luggage cars, splitting into their usual groups.“We’ll divide up,” Abraxas announced, glancing at the others. “Fawley, Avery, Lestrange, Riddle, Cordelia, and I will take one compartment. The rest of you can take another.”Rosier rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, motioning for Dolohov, Mulciber, Nott, and Black to follow him toward a compartment further down the train.As they settled into their chosen compartment, Cordelia immediately took the seat by the window, her body angled slightly away from the rest of the group. Abraxas slid in beside her, his arm draping casually along the back of the seat.Across from them, Tom Riddle sat in the center, his posture as perfect as always. To his right, Quinn Fawley sprawled lazily against the seat, his long legs stretched out in front of him. To his left, Avery and Lestrange sat quietly, the latter flipping through a worn book.The compartment was oppressively quiet at first, the weight of unspoken thoughts hanging in the air.Quinn, never one to let silence linger for long, smirked as he glanced at Avery. “So, Freya, huh?” he teased, waggling his eyebrows. “I saw you two dancing at the ball. You looked very... close.”Avery scowled, his ears turning pink. “Shut up, Fawley.”Quinn chuckled. “Oh, come on. Admit it. She’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”“Do you ever stop talking?” Avery muttered, flipping him off.Cordelia barely registered the exchange. Her gaze was fixed on the snow-covered landscape speeding past the window, her thoughts a million miles away.Riddle’s eyes never left her.“Are you alright, Cordelia?” Abraxas asked softly, leaning closer to her.She nodded, though she didn’t look at him. “Just tired,” she murmured.Abraxas frowned, his concern evident, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he shifted slightly, his arm sliding down to rest lightly around her shoulders.A few minutes later, Cordelia turned to him, her voice barely above a whisper. “I think I’ll take a nap.”Abraxas smiled faintly, adjusting his hold to make her more comfortable. “Go ahead,” he said gently, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I’ll wake you when we get there.”As Cordelia leaned against Abraxas’ shoulder, her breathing slowed as she drifted off, her exhaustion catching up to her. Abraxas shifted slightly, adjusting his hold to make her as comfortable as possible, while his hand absentmindedly brushed over hers.Across from them, Riddle’s dark eyes never left her.“What?” Abraxas asked sharply, his voice a little louder than necessary as he met Riddle’s unwavering gaze.“Nothing,” Riddle replied smoothly, his tone even, though there was an unmistakable edge to his words.Quinn, ever the instigator, grinned and leaned back in his seat, his sharp features gleaming with amusement. “Relax, Malfoy,” he drawled. “Riddle’s just sulking because he didn’t get to dance with her a second time at the ball.”Avery chuckled quietly, the sound dry and sarcastic. “It’s true, though. You’ve been in a mood all morning, Riddle. Maybe you should’ve cut in last night instead of staring from the sidelines. Would’ve done you some good.”The laughter between Avery and Quinn lasted only a moment before Riddle turned his head toward them, his movements deliberate and slow.His voice was quiet—dangerously quiet—but every word carried an unmistakable weight. “Don’t forget who you’re speaking to, Avery,” he said, his tone like ice sliding over steel. “If Blackwood weren’t here, I might’ve tested my latest curse on you. Perhaps you’d like to volunteer as my test subject?”The faint smile that tugged at Riddle’s lips sent a chill through the compartment.Avery’s smirk vanished instantly, his face paling as he stiffened in his seat. “I didn’t mean anything by it,” he muttered quickly, looking away.Quinn raised his hands in mock surrender, though the tension in his posture betrayed his unease. “Alright, alright,” he said, his grin faltering. “Let’s not turn this into a duel, yeah?”Riddle didn’t respond, his gaze flickering back to Cordelia briefly before he turned to stare out the window, his expression unreadable.Abraxas let out a soft scoff, tightening his hold on Cordelia as if to remind Riddle who she belonged to. But the triumphant glint in his eyes was short-lived as he caught the faintest smirk curling Riddle’s lips.The compartment fell into a tense silence after that, the oppressive weight of Riddle’s presence suffocating any attempts at further banter. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The train slowed, the familiar rhythm of the tracks fading into a soft hum. Cordelia Blackwood remained asleep, her features soft and calm for once in the golden lamplight of the compartment. Abraxas Malfoy leaned forward, his sharp platinum-blonde hair falling slightly into his eyes as he gently placed a hand on her shoulder.“Cordelia,” he murmured, his voice lower than usual, almost hesitant. “Wake up.”Cordelia stirred, blinking slowly as the world came back into focus. Her dark lashes fluttered, and she turned her head slightly, her eyes landing on Brax. “Hmm?” she mumbled, still groggy.“The train’s about to reach King’s Cross. I need you to come with me,” he said, his tone quieter than usual.As she sat up straighter, stretching her stiff limbs, she felt a presence. She glanced toward the opposite side of the compartment, where Tom Riddle sat, his dark gaze piercing, as though he could see right into her thoughts. He didn’t speak, but his unnerving stare lingered a moment too long.Cordelia looked away, her heartbeat quickening. Something about the way he observed her felt deliberate, calculated—as though he were silently dissecting her. Abraxas noticed the shift in her expression and shot Riddle a pointed look.“Let’s go,” Abraxas said more firmly this time, offering his hand to her. Cordelia hesitated for a moment, feeling Riddle’s gaze still heavy on her, but she placed her hand in Abraxas’ and let him guide her out into the corridor.They moved through the train, weaving past other students gathering their belongings and saying goodbyes. Eventually, Abraxas led her to a secluded part of the train, where the hum of voices faded into silence. The world outside the window was dark, but the warm glow of the carriage lights softened the edges of their surroundings.Abraxas turned to face her, his hand still loosely holding hers. “Cordelia,” he began, his tone careful, “are you ready for this? To meet my family?”Cordelia hesitated. The question brought a knot to her stomach. She had been bracing herself for this moment, but now that it was here, the anxiety settled in like a heavy cloak. She swallowed hard, looking down at their joined hands before meeting his gaze. “I don’t know,” she admitted.His lips curved into a faint smile, one she wasn’t sure was meant to reassure her or himself. “You’ll be fine,” he said. “They’ll love you.”Cordelia raised an eyebrow, her tone tinged with dry humor. “Because I’m a pureblood, right?”At her words, Abraxas’ smile faltered, and she caught the flicker of guilt in his expression. “It’s not just that,” he replied quickly. “But yes, it helps. You won’t have to prove anything to them. You just… need to act the part.”Her stomach churned at his words, and she took a small step back, her hand slipping from his. “Act the part?” she repeated, the bitterness in her voice unmistakable. “Right. How could I forget? The Malfoys and their pureblood perfection.”Abraxas’ jaw tightened, and for a moment, she saw the cold composure he wore around everyone else creeping into his expression. But then he sighed, and the tension melted away. “Cordelia, I know how that sounds. I do. But trust me—it won’t be as bad as you think. My parents care about lineage, yes, but they’ll care more about the fact that I care about you.”She crossed her arms, still feeling the weight of his words. The memory of the Malfoy name loomed large in her mind—their superiority, their disdain for anyone they deemed “lesser.” Her family may have been purebloods, but they were far from fanatics. They valued decency and friendship over bloodlines.Abraxas seemed to sense her unease, his gray eyes softening. He stepped closer, reaching out to gently take her hand again. His thumb brushed over her knuckles in a calming gesture. “Cordelia, don’t worry,” he said softly. “I’ll be with you the entire time. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”Her gaze flickered to him, her anxiety still simmering beneath the surface. “I just don’t want to feel like… I’m pretending to be someone I’m not.”“You don’t have to,” Abraxas replied, his voice firm but kind. “Just be yourself. They’ll see what I see.”For a moment, his words eased the weight in her chest. She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Abraxas leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down her spine—not the comforting kind. She instinctively flinched, pulling back just slightly.Abraxas noticed immediately, his brows furrowing in concern. “Cordelia?”“I’m fine,” she said quickly, her voice barely above a whisper. The incident from last night—the one she’d tried to bury—flashed through her mind, unbidden. She forced herself to meet his gaze, offering a weak smile.He studied her for a moment, his worry evident, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he gave her hand a light squeeze. “Alright. Just remember, I’m here, okay?”Cordelia nodded, the knot in her stomach loosening just slightly. “Okay.”The train gave a final jolt as it slowed to a stop, and Abraxas glanced out the window. “We’re here,” he said.Cordelia took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The steam from the Hogwarts Express billowed into the cold night air as students spilled out onto the bustling platform of King’s Cross Station. Laughter, chatter, and the occasional shout of a frazzled parent filled the space. Abraxas Malfoy stepped off the train, his sharp features lit by the warm glow of the lamps overhead. Cordelia followed close behind, clutching her bag nervously, her eyes darting around the platform.Abraxas led her to a quieter corner, weaving through the crowd until they found a spot shielded from prying eyes. The air smelled faintly of smoke and engine oil, a strange contrast to the coolness of the evening.Not far behind them, Tom Riddle, Nott, and Avery approached, their movements unhurried but purposeful. Nott was grinning in that insufferable way Cordelia had come to associate with trouble.“Alright,” Abraxas said, pulling a small, ordinary-looking object from his pocket—a brass pocket watch. He held it up for everyone to see. “This is our portkey. Everyone, hold on tightly. Don’t let go, or you’ll be left behind.”Nott squinted at the watch, a sly smile tugging at his lips. “That old thing? Your family couldn’t spring for something fancier? A Malfoy heirloom, maybe?”Malfoy’s expression tightened, but he ignored the jab, focusing instead on Cordelia, who looked at the pocket watch with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. “It’s perfectly safe,” he reassured her. “Just grab on.”The group gathered around, each of them reaching for the portkey. The moment they all touched it, the familiar pull behind their navels yanked them forward. The platform, the noise, the lights—all of it blurred into nothingness as they were hurled through space. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The pull of the portkey released them, depositing the group onto the cobblestone path. Cordelia stumbled slightly, but Abraxas’ hand steadied her almost instinctively. Around her, the rest of the boys adjusted to the landing with varying degrees of grace: Nott and Avery stumbled into each other, laughing as they righted themselves, while Tom Riddle and Corvus Lestrange remained composed as ever, looking as though they’d merely taken a leisurely step.The setting sun bathed the path in warm, golden light, but it only served to highlight the cold, dark grandeur of the Malfoy Manor. The wrought-iron gates towered before them, intricate silver designs of serpents and swords twisting through the metal. The Malfoy crest gleamed faintly in the center, almost daring anyone uninvited to approach.Beyond the gates, the manor loomed like a shadowed fortress, its gothic spires and sharp edges dominating the landscape. Pale stone, almost white but with an icy undertone, gave the building an otherworldly glow as the last rays of sunlight faded. Black iron lanterns flickered faintly along the path, casting long shadows that seemed to dance in the evening breeze.Cordelia stared, unable to keep her awe hidden. She had known the Malfoys were wealthy, but this level of extravagance—this sheer power—was something else entirely.“Home sweet home,” Quinn Fawley said, his voice dripping with dry amusement as he adjusted his scarf. “Malfoy, you’ve outdone yourself. Did you add another wing since last winter?”“Not yet,” Abraxas replied, though his tone lacked its usual bite. “But there’s always next year.”Corvus Lestrange smirked, adjusting the collar of his coat. “You’ve got to admire the audacity of it all. Nothing says ‘welcome to our humble abode’ quite like gates that could fend off a dragon.”“Or guests,” Wulfric Mulciber added, his voice a low rumble.Renold Rosier chuckled, clapping Abraxas on the shoulder. “The real question is: how do you manage not to get lost in there? Or is that part of the charm?”The banter carried on until Nott, leaning casually against the gate, tilted his head with a mischievous grin. “You know, Malfoy, I’ve been here countless times, but I don’t think I’ve ever properly appreciated the… finer details of your family.”Abraxas raised an eyebrow. “What are you on about?”“Oh, just your mother,” Nott said with mock innocence. His grin widened. “Truly a sight to behold. Graceful, elegant—dare I say, ethereal?”Avery snorted. “It’s the hair, isn’t it? That silver-blonde thing they’ve got going on. Like they were sculpted by some ancient wizarding artist. Honestly, Malfoy, it’s unfair to the rest of us.”Cordelia blinked, caught off guard by the brazenness of their comments. She glanced at Abraxas, whose jaw was tightening by the second.“Would you shut up?” Abraxas snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut.But Nott, ever the instigator, raised his hands in mock surrender. “What? We’re just appreciating beauty, that’s all.” He glanced at Avery. “Pureblood perfection, right? Isn’t that the Malfoy way?”Before Abraxas could explode, Tom Riddle stepped forward, his presence commanding silence without raising his voice. “That’s enough,” he said coolly, his dark eyes flicking between Nott and Avery. “Save your idiocy for another time. Or better yet, don’t.”The teasing ceased instantly. Nott and Avery exchanged glances, muttering under their breaths, but they didn’t press their luck further.“Well,” Orion Black said smoothly, breaking the tension, “shall we head inside? I’d hate to keep Mrs. Malfoy waiting.”Abraxas let out a sharp breath, clearly still annoyed, but he turned to Cordelia, his expression softening. He held out his hand, his voice gentler now. “Come on,” he said quietly.Cordelia hesitated for only a moment before taking his hand. The warmth of his touch was oddly reassuring as he led her through the gates, the others falling into step behind them.The group walked up the cobblestone path, the manor growing more imposing with every step. The grand doors—tall, dark, and intricately carved—towered above them, each panel etched with twisting patterns of serpents and flowers. As they approached, Cordelia felt Abraxas’ grip tighten slightly around her hand, and he glanced at her with a faint smile.“You’re with me,” he murmured, his voice so low it was almost lost in the wind.Cordelia nodded, her heart racing as the doors loomed closer. Whatever awaited her inside, she couldn’t help but feel as though she were stepping into a world she wasn’t entirely prepared for. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ As the grand doors of the manor swung open, Cordelia’s breath hitched in her throat. The interior of Malfoy Manor was nothing short of breathtaking.The entrance hall stretched upward into a vaulted ceiling, where a magnificent crystal chandelier hung, its hundreds of glittering facets casting scattered light across the room. The walls were lined with dark, polished wood, and intricate silver filigree traced along the edges of the molding. Portraits of pale, aristocratic ancestors adorned the walls, their eyes cold and watchful, as though judging every visitor.The floor was a flawless marble, so reflective it seemed as though they were walking on glass. A sweeping staircase with an intricately wrought iron balustrade spiraled upward, its steps carpeted in deep emerald green trimmed with silver. Every detail, from the dark, elegant furniture to the flickering sconces that illuminated the room, exuded an air of both opulence and foreboding.Beside her, Abraxas squeezed her hand lightly, drawing her attention back to him. His expression was unreadable, though there was a flicker of nervousness in his eyes.Waiting at the base of the staircase were two figures.The woman was strikingly beautiful in a cold, statuesque way. Her platinum blonde hair fell in a sleek curtain down her back, and her features were sharp and regal, with high cheekbones and piercing silver eyes. She stood with perfect posture, her hands clasped in front of her, exuding an air of quiet authority.Beside her was a man who could only be Abraxas’ father. He had the same aristocratic features, though his eyes were colder—hard, steely gray that missed nothing. His silver-streaked blond hair was combed back neatly, and he wore a tailored black coat with emerald accents, his presence commanding the room with an effortless ease.The group approached, and the tension in the room shifted subtly.“Welcome home, Abraxas,” his mother said, her voice smooth and measured. She glanced over the group with a faintly raised brow before her gaze settled on Tom. “Mr. Riddle. It’s always a pleasure to see you.”“Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy,” Tom replied with his characteristic charm, inclining his head slightly. “It’s a pleasure to be here again.”Abraxas’ father stepped forward then, his gaze sweeping over the group. When he spoke, his voice was deep and authoritative. “Tom,” he said, his tone warmer than Cordelia expected, “you’re looking well. How are your studies?”“Exceptional, sir,” Tom said smoothly, offering a faint smile. “Thank you for asking.”The elder Malfoy nodded approvingly before turning to his son. His expression cooled slightly. “Abraxas,” he said, his tone more perfunctory. “I trust you managed the journey without issue?”“Yes, Father,” Abraxas replied stiffly, his earlier confidence dimming under his father’s cold gaze.The rest of the boys, ever the charmers, stepped forward to greet Abraxas’ mother, offering polite bows and exaggerated compliments.“Mrs. Malfoy,” Renold Rosier said with a grin, “you’re as radiant as ever. Truly, I don’t know how you manage it.”Orion Black chimed in, smirking. “It must be the air here at the manor—pristine, just like you.”Even Corvus Lestrange offered a polite, “Always a pleasure, ma’am.”The woman inclined her head gracefully, though her expression remained cool. “You boys are ever so… charming,” she said, though her tone held the faintest hint of amusement.Meanwhile, Nott and Avery lingered near Mr. Malfoy, cracking subtle jokes about the grandeur of the manor while pretending to admire the chandelier.Abraxas, clearly impatient, finally cleared his throat. “Mother, Father, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”He gently tugged Cordelia forward, and all eyes fell on her.Abraxas began, his tone measured and polite, “this is Cordelia Blackwood.” He gestured toward Cordelia, who curtsied elegantly. “Cordelia, these are my parents—my father, Septimus Malfoy, and my mother, Selene Malfoy.”“Miss Blackwood,” Selene greeted, her voice as smooth as silk and just as cold. Her piercing silver eyes appraised Cordelia from head to toe, lingering on the details of her attire.Septimus inclined his head slightly, his steely gaze no less scrutinizing. “A pleasure, Miss Blackwood,” he said, though the words lacked warmth.Cordelia dipped her head gracefully. “Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, thank you for having me,” she replied, her tone calm and poised despite the knot in her stomach.Selene’s lips twitched in something that could have been a smile—or a smirk. “My son has mentioned you,” she said lightly, though her tone hinted at skepticism. “Though he failed to mention you were so… graceful.”Cordelia managed a polite smile, ignoring the subtle jab. “You’re very kind,” she said diplomatically.Septimus made a low hum of acknowledgment. “Blackwood,” he said, as though tasting the name. “An old pureblood family, though not one particularly active in recent social circles.”“My family prefers to stay out of politics,” Cordelia explained gently, her voice unwavering. “We value connections and kindness over ambition.”Selene raised a delicate brow, her lips curving faintly. “How charming,” she said, her tone inscrutable.Abraxas stiffened, his jaw tightening. “Mother, Father,” he said firmly, “Cordelia is my guest. I hope you’ll show her the courtesy she deserves.”“Of course,” Selene replied, her gaze sharp and unreadable.Septimus waved a hand. “If she’s important to you, that’s all that matters,” he said dismissively, though his tone suggested otherwise.Abraxas led the group of boys through the winding halls of the manor, the grandeur of the space becoming more pronounced with every step. Finally, they reached the third floor, where most of the guest rooms were located.He turned to address them. “Alright, you lot,” he said, gesturing down the hall. “You know where your rooms are—try not to burn anything down, destroy any priceless artifacts, or annoy my mother too much.”Quinn Fawley grinned. “No promises, mate. But I’ll try to keep Mulciber in check.”“Oi!” Wulfric Mulciber shot back, shoving Fawley lightly. “I’m not the problem, you are.”“Debatable,” Antonin Dolohov added with a smirk, causing the others to laugh.Abraxas rolled his eyes. “Go. Get settled. Dinner’s in a few hours.”One by one, the boys headed to their rooms, their banter echoing down the hall as they disappeared. All except for Tom Riddle, who lingered behind.The group moved in relative silence, though Cordelia couldn’t help but feel Riddle’s quiet presence behind them. His expression was unreadable, his sharp eyes taking in everything as they walked.They stopped in front of a dark wooden door with intricate silver carvings. “This is Riddle’s room,” Abraxas explained, glancing at Cordelia. “It’s where he’s stayed every time he’s visited.”Abraxas turned slightly, gesturing across the hall. “Cordelia, your room is just here.” He pointed to a door directly opposite Riddle’s, about two meters away. His voice dropped slightly as he spoke. “I should warn you—my parents insisted that you stay farther from my room. They wanted to avoid any... unnecessary accusations.”Cordelia tilted her head, giving him a small, understanding smile. “It’s fine,” she said softly. “I understand.”He exhaled in relief, stepping closer to her. “My room is just down the hall,” he assured her, pointing to a door on the left at the far end. “If you need anything—anything at all—I’m not far.”As Abraxas spoke, Riddle stepped past them without a word, unlocking his door and pushing it open. He stood in the doorway for a moment, his back to them, before turning his head slightly.“Try not to disturb me,” he said flatly, his tone as sharp as a blade.Without waiting for a response, he disappeared into his room and snapped the door shut behind him, the sound echoing faintly in the quiet hallway.For a moment, both Cordelia and Abraxas stood in stunned silence. Then, unexpectedly, a giggle escaped Cordelia’s lips. It started soft but quickly grew, her laughter light and unrestrained.Abraxas blinked, then chuckled as well, his tension easing as he watched her. “Well, that’s Riddle for you,” he said, shaking his head. “At least he keeps things interesting.”Cordelia wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye, her laughter tapering off. “It was... oddly funny,” she admitted, her cheeks still flushed from mirth.Abraxas smiled at her, relief evident on his face. He hadn’t heard her laugh like that in hours, and it warmed him to see her spirits lifting.Abraxas pushed the door open to reveal a spacious, inviting room bathed in warm golden light from the setting sun streaming through tall, arched windows. The space had a refreshing elegance that contrasted with the darker aesthetic of the rest of the manor.The walls were painted a soft, creamy white, adorned with delicate silver accents and intricate moldings. A plush, oversized bed sat in the center of the room, its frame a polished white with subtle carvings along the edges. The bedding was thick and luxurious, layered with white linens and soft, silvery-gray throws.Across from the bed, a wide bookshelf stretched almost to the ceiling, its shelves packed with books of all kinds—old leather-bound volumes, novels, and even a few whimsical-looking titles. A cozy armchair was tucked in the corner beside a small reading table, complete with a delicate silver lamp.The room also boasted a polished white desk near the window, its surface uncluttered except for an inkpot and a set of elegant quills. To the side, a door led to a private bathroom, and Cordelia caught a glimpse of gleaming marble and silver fixtures within.“I know it’s not what you’d expect from the Malfoys,” Abraxas said quietly, watching her take it all in. “But my mother insists every guest room feels welcoming. Even here.”Cordelia turned to him, her eyes wide. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured, her voice soft with awe. “It’s... perfect.”A small smile of relief spread across Abraxas’ face. “I’m glad you like it,” he said warmly. “I wanted you to be comfortable here.”She turned back to the room, her fingers brushing lightly over the edge of the bedframe. “It’s wonderful, Brax. Thank you.”He took a step closer, his voice dropping slightly. “You should settle in, relax for a bit. I’ll come get you for dinner.”Cordelia nodded, offering him a grateful smile. “Alright. I’ll see you then.”Abraxas lingered for a moment, as though he wanted to say more, but instead, he gave her a gentle nod and stepped out, quietly closing the door behind him. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ Alone at last, Cordelia sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, sinking into its soft, comforting surface. She glanced around the room again, her gaze landing on the bookshelf, then the windows, then back to the bed.She leaned back, letting herself fall against the pillows as she stared up at the ceiling, her mind whirring with everything that had happened over the last 24 hours.After a few moments of lying on the bed and letting her thoughts swirl, Cordelia sat up with a soft sigh. The long day’s events had left her feeling drained, and the prospect of dinner with the Malfoys loomed large in her mind. She decided she needed to freshen up before stepping back into their world of veiled remarks and sharp glances.She rose and crossed the room to the door leading to the bathroom. Pushing it open, she found herself in an equally elegant space. The bathroom was lined with smooth, white marble that gleamed under the light of a delicate crystal chandelier hanging above. A clawfoot bathtub sat in the center, its silver fixtures shining brightly, while fluffy white towels were neatly folded on a small table nearby.Cordelia turned the taps, watching as warm water began to fill the tub, steam curling gently into the air. A soft, floral scent lingered in the room, likely from the selection of luxurious bath oils lined up along the counter. She chose one with a faint lavender fragrance, pouring a small amount into the water and watching it swirl into the rising steam.As the tub filled, she slipped out of her travel-worn clothes, folding them neatly on the vanity. Stepping into the bath, she let out a quiet sigh as the warm water enveloped her, soothing her tired muscles and washing away the tension of the day.For a while, she simply soaked, letting her mind drift. The warm water, the faint scent of lavender, and the soft glow of the chandelier above all worked together to calm her nerves. She couldn’t stop thinking about the Malfoys, their watchful eyes, and the subtle tension she felt in their presence. But for now, in the quiet sanctuary of the bathroom, she let herself relax.After some time, Cordelia rose from the bath, wrapping herself in one of the soft, oversized towels. She stood at the mirror, her hair slightly damp, and began brushing through it, taming the dark waves that framed her face.Cordelia stepped out of the bathroom, steam trailing behind her as she adjusted the towel wrapped tightly around her. Her hair was damp, the dark waves clinging to her shoulders as droplets of water slid down her back. She crossed the room to her trunk, kneeling down to open it.Her fingers sifted through her belongings, pulling out the midnight blue, almost black dress she had decided on for dinner. Alongside it, she grabbed a matching pair of navy-blue lacy knickers and a simple silk slip to go underneath. She placed them neatly on the bed and reached back into her trunk for a pair of stockings when—
Knock. Knock.
The sharp sound startled her. “Just a second!” she called, her voice hurried as she turned to grab the rest of her things. But before she could even move, the door creaked open, and a tall figure stepped inside.Cordelia gasped, spinning around as her wide eyes locked onto none other than Tom Riddle. Instinctively, her hands flew to clutch her towel tighter around her chest as her face turned crimson. Without a second thought, she grabbed the first thing she could—her slipper—and launched it at him with surprising precision.“What the hell?!” she half-whispered, half-screamed as the slipper sailed through the air.Tom, ever composed, tilted his head slightly at the last moment, the slipper narrowly missing his face and landing with a soft thud on the floor behind him. He raised an unimpressed brow, his hands slipping into the pockets of his neatly pressed trousers.Cordelia’s voice was sharp and frantic, her cheeks burning as she glared at him. “What the fuck are you doing?! I told you to wait! Do you have any idea how this would look to someone else?”Tom, calm as ever, leaned slightly against the doorframe, his piercing eyes scanning her with faint disinterest. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he said smoothly, his tone as cold as ice. “I came to talk about yesterday.”Her heart sank slightly, but her frustration burned hotter. She cut him off, her voice clipped. “There’s nothing to talk about.”That subtle dismissal caused Tom’s composed façade to crack just a little. His jaw tightened, his irritation surfacing in the faintest twitch of his mouth. “Don’t act like it didn’t happen,” he said, his voice low and edged with warning. “Ignoring it won’t make it disappear.”Cordelia stood her ground, her hand gripping the towel even tighter. With defiance in her voice, she marched toward him, her wet hair framing her face like an accidental halo of fury. “You did what any sane person would have done,” she said firmly, her tone unwavering despite her embarrassment. “I already thanked you. That’s it. There’s nothing more to say.”Tom’s dark eyes flickered, his irritation now fully visible. He opened his mouth to respond, but his gaze was drawn downward—to what Cordelia was still holding in her other hand.Navy blue lace.His eyes lingered on the delicate fabric for just a second too long, the corner of his mouth quirking almost imperceptibly in amusement. Slowly, deliberately, his gaze rose back to hers, his expression maddeningly composed once more, though the faintest trace of a smirk lingered at the edges.It took Cordelia a moment to register what had caught his attention, but when she did, her entire face turned scarlet. She gasped, dropping the knickers as though they’d burned her, and then screamed, “GET THE FUCK OUT!”Riddle didn’t move, though his dark eyes gleamed with a quiet, dangerous amusement.“NOW!” she shouted, her voice shrill as she scrambled to grab the nearest object—a heavy book from the bedside table. Without hesitation, she hurled it at him.Tom dodged again, stepping aside just as the book whizzed past him and slammed into the wall. His calm exterior had returned, though a faint smirk tugged at his lips.Cordelia, mortified and furious, stormed toward the bathroom, still clutching the edges of her towel. She turned back one last time, her voice a sharp whisper-scream. “Get. Out. Of. My. Room!”Tom, now growing more exasperated, leaned in the doorway and shot her a quiet warning, “This conversation isn’t over.”“I don’t give a shit! Get out!”Cordelia slammed the bathroom door behind her, leaning against it with a heaving chest as her face flushed a deep red. She could still feel the heat of his gaze and cursed under her breath, glaring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.“What is wrong with him?” she muttered, her voice a mix of embarrassment and anger.Meanwhile, outside the door, Tom adjusted his cuffs, the faintest trace of amusement flickering across his face before it was replaced by his usual stoicism. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ Cordelia stood in front of the large vanity mirror, adjusting the delicate, midnight-blue dress that clung to her frame, the fabric shimmering as the fading sunlight caught it through the window. The dress was almost black, but if you looked closely, it was a deep, rich color that gave off a hauntingly elegant vibe, perfect for the Malfoy estate.She carefully applied a light layer of makeup, focusing on making her eyes stand out with subtle shades of silver and dark eyeliner. A gentle swipe of crimson on her lips completed the look, adding a striking contrast to the paleness of her skin. She quickly brushed her damp hair, the soft waves falling effortlessly around her shoulders before pulling a few strands behind her ear.With a small sigh, she slid on her favorite pieces of jewelry: a delicate silver necklace with a small moonstone pendant that she’d inherited from her mother, and a pair of matching earrings. She stared at herself for a moment, contemplating the reflection that stared back at her.But before she could second-guess herself, there was a sharp knock at the door."Wait! For Merlin’s sake!" Cordelia hissed in frustration, nearly knocking over her perfume bottle as she rushed to adjust her dress one last time.The door creaked open, and to her surprise, it wasn’t Riddle, but Abraxas Malfoy himself, looking slightly concerned as he stepped into the room.“Cordelia, everything alright?” he asked, his voice laced with a note of worry.Cordelia, flustered and still holding a comb in her hand, quickly rushed to the door and apologized. “I’m sorry. I’m just... stressed about dinner. Nothing to worry about, really.” She offered a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes as she stepped back and smoothed her dress down.Abraxas seemed to read her well, but he only nodded with a reassuring smile. “There’s nothing to worry about. You look stunning.”She swallowed the lump in her throat, nodding quickly as she murmured a soft “Thank you.”He glanced at her once more, then offered her his arm. “Shall we? Dinner is waiting, and I’m sure the others are eager to see you.”Cordelia, now feeling slightly more composed, looped her arm through his and followed him out the door, trying to brush away the weight of the day’s events. She couldn’t shake the nervous flutter in her stomach—this dinner wasn’t just any dinner. It was an important one.As they made their way down the long corridor, she noticed the familiar voices of the boys echoing from the dining room. But there was something new, something she hadn’t expected.To her surprise, a girl around their age was sitting at the long table with the rest of the boys. Cordelia’s heart skipped a beat as her curiosity piqued. She hadn’t seen her before, and it immediately made her feel out of place, unsure of who this new addition was.Abraxas led her closer, and just as they approached the table, Cantankerous Nott stood up with a grin, gesturing to the petite blonde sitting beside him. “Ah, Cordelia,” he said, his voice laced with amusement. “This is my girlfriend, Delphini Greengrass.”She hadn’t expected someone like Delphini—sweet and shy, with golden locks of hair and a face dotted with soft freckles. Her gentle smile was warm, but Cordelia couldn’t help but think it was at odds with the slightly cynical nature of the boys around her, especially Nott.Delphini stood and greeted her with a polite, though slightly nervous, handshake. “It’s so lovely to meet you, Cordelia. I’m glad to have another girl around here,” she said with a soft, almost shy smile. “It’s been a bit of a boy’s club lately.”Cordelia’s lips curled into a smile, finding herself more at ease as she met Delphini’s warm brown eyes. “I’m happy to be here, really. I didn’t expect so many new faces, but it’s nice to have someone to chat with.”Delphini nodded enthusiastically, her fingers nervously fiddling with the edge of her sleeve. “Oh, I completely agree! I was a bit worried about being the only girl at first.” She glanced at Nott, who was now sitting back in his chair, watching the two girls with a smug grin.Cordelia couldn’t help but wonder how Delphini had ended up with someone like Nott—he could be so abrasive at times—but Delphini seemed different, sweet and somewhat delicate, like someone who had a calm aura about her.“I’ve heard a lot about you, Cordelia,” Delphini continued, her smile brightening. “I’m glad you’re here. It’s good to know someone else who’s not just another guest of Quinn’s.”Cordelia laughed softly, appreciating the warmth that Delphini exuded. “Same here. It’s a bit overwhelming at times, but I’m starting to feel more comfortable.”Abraxas led Cordelia to the seat beside him at the head of the table, and to her surprise, he guided her to the chair directly next to Riddle. As soon as her eyes met his, her face flushed a deep crimson. She had been doing her best to push the events of earlier out of her mind, but seeing him now, so close, made all those feelings come rushing back.Riddle’s lips curled into that infuriating smirk of his as their eyes locked. It made her stomach churn, her embarrassment mixing with annoyance. She was so tempted to stomp on his foot under the table, to make him stop smirking like that. Her heel shifted, her aim sharp, but before she could make contact, Riddle jerked his foot away just in time, the tip of her heel missing him by inches.He lowered his face toward her, his voice a low, quiet whisper. “Navy really does look good on you,” he said, his tone dripping with something she couldn’t quite place.Cordelia’s breath caught, and she clenched her jaw. “Shut up, Riddle,” she muttered under her breath, her face burning.Without waiting for a response, she turned away from him, pretending not to hear, and focused her attention back on Abraxas, who was seated beside her.As the conversation around the table continued, Cordelia couldn’t help but feel a sense of discomfort creeping over her. Her heart pounded a little harder whenever Riddle’s gaze flickered toward her, but she refused to acknowledge it.The tension in the room was broken when Septimus Malfoy, Abraxas’ father, raised his glass for a toast. Everyone turned their attention to him, and the conversation quieted.“To family, to our traditions,” Septimus declared, his voice firm but warm. “And to the company of good friends.” He gave a very subtle glance in Cordelia’s direction, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if measuring her.Cordelia’s stomach tightened, but Abraxas squeezed her hand gently under the table, his touch warm and reassuring. His quiet, “Ignore him,” was enough to help her calm down, at least a little.Dinner was served shortly after the toast—an extravagant spread that matched the opulence of the Malfoy Manor. There was roasted pheasant stuffed with herbs, glazed vegetables, mashed potatoes, and rich, velvety gravy. A fine bottle of red wine sat on the table, filling everyone’s glass as the meal began. The scent was intoxicating, and Cordelia had to admit that despite the tension, she was grateful for the excellent food.As the meal continued, the conversation shifted to lighter topics at first—Corvus Lestrange was asked about his mother, and he answered curtly but firmly. Mrs. Malfoy nodded approvingly, murmuring something like, “Good, good,” but not offering much more than that.Then the discussion shifted to Quidditch, as Mr. Malfoy turned to Quinn Fawley, who was known for his flying prowess. “How’s the team shaping up this year?” Mr. Malfoy asked, his gaze sharp.Quinn, ever the charmer, grinned widely. “We’re looking strong, sir. The team’s in great form, and we’ve got some new strategies lined up for the next match. Abraxas and I’ve been working on the tactics—”Abraxas cut in, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips, “We’re a well-oiled machine. Quinn’s good, but I’d say I’m the one carrying the team.”Quinn shot him an exaggerated glare, though the two were clearly enjoying the playful banter. "Well, someone has to keep you grounded," Quinn teased, earning a laugh from the table.Cordelia, trying to avoid getting caught up in the playful competition, focused on her meal. She pushed some peas around her plate, hoping to let the conversation flow without drawing attention to herself. But as always with this group, the questions began to veer towards something a little more personal.Then, suddenly, the conversation shifted toward her.“So, Cordelia,” Mrs. Malfoy asked, her voice smooth and cold, “how are your studies going?”Cordelia paused for a moment, considering how to respond. “It’s going pretty good,” she said, trying to sound casual.Abraxas immediately interjected with a proud grin. “You mean amazing. Cordelia is even a prefect this year.”Mrs. Malfoy hummed noncommittally, her sharp gaze flicking over Cordelia. “I wouldn’t have expected that from a Blackwood,” she muttered under her breath, but it was loud enough for everyone to hear.Cordelia tried to ignore the subtle jab, focusing on her food. Abraxas squeezed her hand again, a silent gesture of solidarity, but the words still stung.The conversation faltered for a moment before Mr. Malfoy spoke again, his voice colder now. “Do they still let those Mudbloods attend Hogwarts?” he said, his words deliberate. “Dippet should stop allowing them to enter. It’s a disgrace.”For a moment, the table went silent, the tension thick in the air. Cordelia felt a lump form in her throat, but she stayed silent, not wanting to draw attention to herself.Riddle’s calm voice cut through the silence. “I agree,” he said, his eyes briefly flickering to Cordelia, then back to the table, a hint of something colder in his gaze. “The idea that anyone, regardless of their blood, should be allowed to study alongside the true heirs of magic…” He paused, letting his words hang in the air for a moment before continuing, his tone almost like a whisper. “It weakens the foundation of what we’ve built.”Cordelia’s stomach churned at his words, and she could feel her face heat with both frustration and disbelief. She had expected plenty of things from Riddle—disdain for others, his usual superior attitude—but hearing him speak with such certainty about blood purity, about how it was a ‘weakness,’ made her heart twist. She wasn’t naïve, but hearing it from him… it hurt more than she thought it would.Her disappointment must have shown in her eyes, because Riddle’s gaze flickered toward her again, this time colder than before. But he didn’t apologize or retract his statement. Instead, he met her gaze with an inscrutable look, almost daring her to say something.But Cordelia didn’t speak. She couldn’t. There was nothing to say. She just stared at him, fighting the urge to slam her fist on the table.The conversation shifted again, and as the last of the dinner was served, the atmosphere at the table grew quieter. The rest of the evening passed uneventfully, save for some light-hearted chatter from the others.Abraxas, noticing the tension between Cordelia and Riddle, subtly moved his hand under the table, gently placing it on Cordelia’s knee. His touch was reassuring, a silent reminder that he was there. Cordelia gave him a faint, appreciative look, her fingers lightly brushing against his, but her mind was far from the moment. She couldn’t stop replaying the earlier conversation in her head.Riddle, noticed the subtle movement. His gaze flickered briefly to Abraxas’s hand resting on Cordelia’s knee, his expression unreadable. He said nothing, didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow. But for a moment, his eyes lingered on the two of them before he looked away, the tiniest trace of something—frustration?—crossing his face.The tension between them, palpable but unspoken, remained as the evening drew to a close.When dinner finally ended, the Malfoy family’s guests lingered for a while, exchanging pleasantries, but the energy in the room had shifted. No one lingered too long at the table. Soon, the boys started to drift away, some heading back to their rooms, others chatting in smaller groups.Abraxas stood, offering Cordelia his arm as they rose from the table. His voice was soft, trying to lighten the mood. “Come on, I’ll show you where the others are gathering. You look like you could use a little air.”Cordelia managed a tight smile, grateful for his kindness. She nodded, taking his arm as they left the dining room.As they stepped into the hallway, she couldn’t help but glance back, her thoughts swirling. Dinner had ended, but the conversation, the disappointment,—it hadn’t ended. And something told her that the evening was far from over.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Chapter 13

Cordelia sat in bed, book in hand, but the words blurred together, unread. The conversation from dinner kept clawing at her mind, refusing to let go. The way Riddle had spoken—so arrogant, so assured, as if he was above everyone else in the room, including Septimus Malfoy himself.Blood separates us from filth.His voice echoed in her skull, venomous and absolute.Her hands clenched the book so tightly that the spine groaned in protest. Before she even fully realized what she was doing, she threw the covers off and marched toward Riddle’s room.She didn’t knock—she pounded. Loud. Insistent.The door swung open after a long pause, and there he was, his expression impassive but eyes burning with annoyance. He didn’t speak, just studied her from the threshold, one arm stretched against the doorframe in a silent barrier.“What?” His voice was calm, but there was something dangerous underneath.Cordelia didn’t care. She ducked under his arm and stormed inside, brushing past him before he could stop her.“How could you say that?” she snapped, whirling around to face him.Riddle turned, shutting the door behind him with slow deliberation. “Say what?”“Oh, don’t play dumb,” she spat. “The way you talk about blood like it’s the only thing that matters—like you’re somehow above everyone else because of it.”He exhaled sharply, his patience thinning. “I am above them.”Cordelia’s nails dug into her palms. “You don’t get to decide that!”His lips curved into a cruel, knowing smirk. “Then who does? Society? The Ministry? The very people who bow to those born superior?”She took a step closer, fire licking at her veins. “Superior?” Her voice dropped to something almost taunting, razor-sharp. “You act like you’re so much better, but tell me, Riddle—are you even truly pureblood?”Something inside him snapped.It was immediate—the shift in the air so intense that the temperature seemed to drop. Before she could react, his hand shot out, grasping her wrist with iron strength.Cordelia barely flinched, though her pulse hammered against her ribs.“I would choose your next words carefully, Blackwood.” His voice was low, controlled, yet seething.Cordelia glared up at him, defiant. “Oh, I hit a nerve, didn’t I?”Riddle yanked her forward, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him. His grip was firm but not painful—possessive, almost. “You know nothing about me.”Her breath hitched, but she refused to back down. “No one does.”His jaw tightened.She tilted her chin up, eyes searching his face, pressing deeper into the wound. “That’s what really eats at you, isn’t it? No name. No real family. No legacy.” She leaned in slightly, her voice dipping into something almost mocking. “You’ll never belong.”Riddle’s fingers tightened around her wrist for half a second—then he let go.It wasn’t defeat.It was something worse.He stepped back, his expression eerily smooth. “You think I’m cruel,” he murmured, studying her with that cold, calculated intensity that always made her feel like he was peeling back her thoughts layer by layer. “You haven’t even seen cruelty yet, Blackwood.”Cordelia clenched her fists. “I don’t need to. I see enough of it in you.”His smirk returned, but it was all teeth, no warmth. “That’s rich, coming from you.”She didn’t ask what he meant. She just turned and stormed toward the door.Before leaving, she looked back over her shoulder. “Whatever you think you are, Tom—blood doesn’t make you more. It doesn’t make you anything.”Then she slammed the door shut behind her.For a long moment, there was silence.Then, with a sudden, sharp movement, Riddle grabbed the crystal glass from his bedside table and hurled it across the room.It shattered against the wall, shards scattering across the floor.His breathing was slow, measured, but his hands trembled with barely-contained fury.She would regret that. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The tension between Cordelia and Riddle had settled into something sharp-edged and unspoken. It had been days since their fight, but neither had made a move to break the silence.Riddle, ever composed, carried himself as if she were utterly beneath his notice. He never acknowledged her presence, never so much as looked her way unless absolutely necessary. Cordelia, for her part, was just as stubborn. She refused to be the first to speak, even when she caught herself waiting for it.They existed in the same spaces—meals, sitting in the parlor with the others—but as far as they were concerned, the other might as well have been a ghost.It was infuriating.Even Abraxas had noticed, though he hadn’t pried. He simply stayed close to Cordelia, offering warmth where Riddle offered ice.And so, when Mrs. Malfoy suggested a walk through the gardens, Cordelia had jumped at the opportunity. Anything was better than sulking in the manor’s suffocating halls.Now, she stepped outside into the crisp winter air, the frost-stung breeze a welcome relief from the tension indoors.Quinn stretched his arms dramatically. “Finally! A day where none of us are plotting or arguing.”“Yet,” Corvus added dryly.Cordelia laughed, wrapping her cloak tighter. “Don’t jinx it.”The garden paths wound through perfectly trimmed hedges, their shoes crunching against the frost-covered stone. The group dynamic had settled into something comfortable—teasing, easy banter, nothing forced.Except for him.Tom Riddle walked a few paces ahead, his hands folded neatly behind his back, his dark coat cut perfectly to his tall, lean frame. The winter cold did not touch him—no shivers, no hurried steps, just smooth, effortless control.The sharp wind tugged at his ink-black curls, making them fall slightly out of place—a contrast to the immaculate way he carried himself. The pale winter sun cast a glow over his sharp cheekbones, his aristocratic features looking almost too perfect, too untouchable.Beautiful. And cold.Cordelia hated how striking he looked against the winter landscape.And she hated even more that she noticed.Fine, then. Let him sulk.She had better company.“You look cold,” Abraxas murmured, stepping beside her.Cordelia shivered slightly, though she wasn’t sure if it was the air or the way he was watching her. “I’m fine.”Abraxas didn’t look convinced. Without hesitation, he unfastened his own cloak and draped it over her shoulders.She blinked up at him. “You’ll freeze.”“I don’t mind suffering for a lady,” he said smoothly, though his smile was softer than usual.Cordelia didn’t protest. She let the warmth sink into her skin, let herself enjoy the closeness.Quinn, of course, noticed immediately.“Oh, this is disgusting,” he groaned. “Is this what love looks like? Because I think I prefer death.”Cordelia rolled her eyes. “You’ll die alone, Quinn.”“And proudly,” he shot back, grinning.The group reached the frozen fountain, its marble figures half-encased in ice. There was something eerily beautiful about it—like ghosts trapped in time.“Did you know,” Mulciber began, voice taking on that eerie storytelling quality, “that the Malfoy ancestors believed their fountains were cursed?”Quinn sighed. “Oh, fantastic. Another bedtime story.”Mulciber ignored him. “They say that if you look too long into the ice, you see things—visions of people long gone.”Cordelia stared at the frozen water. A strange chill crept up her spine.“It’s just ice, Mulciber,” Abraxas said, amused. “Don’t scare them.”“Scare me?” Quinn scoffed. “Please. If ghosts want to give me some life advice, they’re welcome to try.”“Should we push him in and see if the ghosts take him?” Corvus mused.“Don’t tempt me,” Cordelia muttered.And then, for the first time in days, Riddle spoke.“You lot waste time on the most foolish things.”The words weren’t directed at her, but they might as well have been.Quinn turned to him with an exaggerated gasp. “Merlin’s beard, he speaks! And here I thought you’d forgotten how.”Riddle didn’t react, but Cordelia caught the faintest flicker of irritation in his eyes before he turned away, as if even acknowledging her presence was beneath him.Her jaw tightened.Fine.If he wanted to pretend she didn’t exist, she could do the same.She turned back to Abraxas, whose fingers barely brushed hers before he quickly pulled away.The group continued their walk, laughter still lacing the cold air. For a moment, it almost felt normal.But normal never lasted long. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ Cordelia has barely had time to recover from the earlier gathering when she finds herself summoned again—this time for tea with Mrs. Malfoy.She didn’t know why the words sent a sharp, uneasy feeling through her chest, but she hated it.
Still, she made her way to the sitting room, schooling her features into something polite, controlled, unreadable.Mrs. Malfoy was already there, her posture perfect, effortless, untouchable. There was a grace about her that made anyone feel small in comparison, like she existed on a level beyond mere mortals.The room was warm, a fire crackling in the hearth, yet somehow the air felt cold.“Ah, Cordelia,” Mrs. Malfoy greeted smoothly, gesturing to the seat across from her. “I trust you’ve been enjoying yourself? Such a lively gathering this evening.”Cordelia sat, keeping her expression carefully neutral. Never show too much. Never let them see.“Yes,” she answered, voice even. “It was lovely.”Mrs. Malfoy’s smile was delicate, poised—and unreadable.She poured the tea herself, her movements measured, deliberate, calculating. Cordelia could feel the woman’s eyes on her, taking in every inch, every detail.It was like being weighed, measured, and found lacking.“You must be so thrilled, dear,” Mrs. Malfoy continued, her voice dripping in sweet venom. “To be in such fine company. So many… important people around you. Such a privilege.”Cordelia knew better than to react. She wouldn’t let her.She took the teacup without looking away. “Yes, I suppose it is.”A soft, breathy laugh. Not quite mocking, but not kind either.Mrs. Malfoy sipped her tea, watching her over the rim of the cup. “And then, of course, there’s Abraxas.”The name hung in the air like a weight.Cordelia kept her grip on the teacup steady.“Such a remarkable young man, isn’t he?” Mrs. Malfoy continued, her tone light, almost idly amused. “So strong. So… destined for greatness.”Cordelia nodded, careful, deliberate. “He is.”She would not take the bait.Mrs. Malfoy leaned forward ever so slightly, the warmth in her voice turning into something sharp and deliberate. “I do wonder, though, if you’re really… enough for him.”The words were gentle. And merciless.Cordelia felt the impact like a blow to the chest, but she refused to flinch.She set her teacup down with a soft clink.Mrs. Malfoy’s gaze never wavered. “Abraxas will need someone strong by his side, someone who can handle the weight of his future. And I can’t help but wonder if you—” she paused, just long enough for Cordelia to feel the sharp edge of anticipation “—if you have the strength to rise to that challenge.”Cordelia smiled. Slowly. Deliberately.“I wouldn’t worry about my strength, Mrs. Malfoy,” she said lightly, taking her own measured sip of tea. “But I do appreciate your concern.”The room felt tighter.For a flicker of a second, Cordelia swore she saw something flash in Mrs. Malfoy’s expression—surprise, irritation—before it disappeared beneath another smooth smile.“You see, dear,” Mrs. Malfoy went on, her voice like silk wrapping around a blade, “sometimes, the weight of the family legacy can be too much for someone. It requires a certain… resilience. A certain level of… power.”She said it carefully, deliberately. Like a warning.Cordelia held her gaze, fingers curling subtly against the porcelain.A younger version of herself might have let this break her.But Cordelia wasn’t that girl anymore.“I understand perfectly,” she said, voice smooth. “And I think you’ll find I’m quite resilient.”Mrs. Malfoy studied her for a moment, something cold and assessing behind her gaze.Then, with a graceful ease that made it all the more infuriating, she simply smiled. “I’m sure you’ll be fine, of course.”The conversation moved on. But Cordelia could feel the words still hanging between them, like hooks buried deep beneath her skin.She wouldn’t let them sink any deeper.She wouldn’t.The silence stretched, only the occasional clink of porcelain breaking it.Then, as if nothing had happened, Mrs. Malfoy let out a soft, thoughtful hum.“Ah, the Yule Ball is coming up, isn’t it?” she mused, as though they had been discussing it all along. “Such an important event… so much to prepare for, especially for someone of your, let’s say, standing.”Cordelia lifted an eyebrow, but didn’t take the bait.“Yes, of course,” she said simply. “It’s coming up soon.”Mrs. Malfoy smiled, her gaze sharp.“And have you found yourself a dress yet?”Cordelia hesitated for just a second. “No,” she admitted, keeping her voice casual. “I haven’t really thought about it.”Mrs. Malfoy tilted her head. “Oh, how unprepared of you. Well, I suppose we can’t expect everyone to have their priorities in order.”Cordelia’s jaw clenched—only for a second.Not enough to be seen.Mrs. Malfoy continued as if she hadn’t noticed.“Not to worry, though,” she said lightly, setting her tea down. “I’m sure Delphini and I could assist you. We know exactly where to go for the most exquisite dresses.”She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping into something almost conspiratorial.“I’m sure you’d love to come along with us. A little shopping trip, hmm? We can help you find something truly remarkable—something that will surely impress everyone at the ball.”Cordelia’s instincts screamed at her.This wasn’t a gesture of kindness. This was a test. A move.She was being given an invitation—a leash.To say no would be to refuse the hand extended to her.To say yes would be to walk willingly into whatever trap had already been set.Cordelia’s fingers tightened slightly against her lap. She forced a calm, effortless smile.“I suppose that sounds nice,” she said lightly. “It would be… interesting to see what you recommend.”Mrs. Malfoy’s smile never wavered. “I’m so glad you agree,” she said, voice smooth as silk. “I’ll make the arrangements.”Cordelia returned the smile, feeling it pull at her skin like something fragile and false.“Well, then,” Mrs. Malfoy said, her tone almost cheerful. “It’s settled. We’ll go as soon as possible. There’s no time to waste, after all.”Cordelia swallowed back the knot in her throat and took another sip of her tea.It burned. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ Cordelia stormed through the halls of Malfoy Manor, Mrs. Malfoy's words playing on an infuriating loop in her mind. Not enough. Not strong enough. Not worthy. She clenched her fists, her pace quickening as if she could outrun the suffocating weight of those remarks.How dare she? How dare that woman sit there, all poised elegance and venom, and act like Cordelia was nothing more than an inconvenience—like she was some fragile little thing that would crack under pressure? She had held her own in every battle, every challenge. She was strong. And yet, somehow, those carefully crafted insults had burrowed deep, threatening to unravel her confidence.She turned a sharp corner, so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice the figure walking in her direction until she nearly crashed into him."Whoa—" Abraxas caught her by the shoulders before she could stumble back. His sharp blue eyes studied her face, instantly catching the anger brewing beneath the surface. "And where exactly are you marching off to, looking like you're about to set something on fire?"Cordelia exhaled harshly, stepping back from his grip. "Nowhere. Just—" She shook her head. "Forget it."Abraxas arched an eyebrow. "Mm, no, I don’t think I will." He smirked, but there was a flicker of concern in his gaze. "Come on. You look like you need a distraction."She sighed, pressing her fingers to her temple. "Abraxas, I really don’t think—""Don’t think," he cut her off smoothly. "Just come with me."He didn’t give her much of a choice, taking her hand and leading her toward the Malfoy gardens. Normally, she might have pulled away, might have argued—but tonight, she didn’t have the energy. And maybe, just maybe, a distraction was exactly what she needed.The winter garden was breathtaking. Snow hadn’t yet fallen this year, but it still felt like stepping into a dream. Twinkling enchanted lights floated among the trees, illuminating the glass walls and domed ceiling that allowed the silver moonlight to spill inside. In the center of it all, a phonograph rested atop a carved marble table, a slow, elegant waltz drifting from its speaker.Cordelia glanced at Abraxas with a questioning look, but he only grinned. "Dance with me."Before she could protest, his hands were already on her waist, effortlessly guiding her into the slow rhythm."You do realize this is ridiculous, right?" she muttered, though she couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at her lips."Completely," he admitted, spinning her gently. "But you’re smiling, so I’d say it's working."Cordelia rolled her eyes, but she let herself get lost in the moment. The music, the warmth of his hands, the way he made everything feel lighter—like the weight of the world wasn’t pressing down on her for once.They danced in lazy circles, occasionally bumping into one another when he purposefully threw in exaggerated, dramatic steps that made her laugh. For a few blissful minutes, it was just them. No expectations, no pressure. Just Cordelia and Abraxas.But the moment couldn’t last forever. The laughter faded, and as Cordelia rested her head against his chest, the reality of earlier conversations crept back in."Abraxas," she said softly, hesitating only for a second before pulling back to look at him.His playful expression sobered immediately. "What is it?"She bit her lip, suddenly unsure if she wanted to ruin the moment. But she had to say it. "I had tea with your mother earlier."His jaw tightened ever so slightly. "And?"Cordelia let out a breath, her fingers unconsciously tightening where they rested on his shoulder. "She—she doesn’t think I’m good enough for you," she admitted, voice quieter than before. "She spent the entire time picking at me, making it very clear that I don’t belong in your world."She forced out a dry, humorless laugh, shaking her head. "I mean, she practically said it outright—that I don’t have the strength, the status, the power to be with someone like you." She lifted her chin, trying to play it off like it didn’t sting. "It was quite the lovely chat."Abraxas was silent for a long moment, his hands tightening on her waist. His expression was unreadable at first—until, suddenly, he exhaled sharply, almost laughing under his breath."That’s what’s been bothering you?" He shook his head, a rare softness in his gaze. "Cordelia, please—I couldn’t give less of a fuck about what my parents think."Her brows furrowed. "Abraxas—""No, listen to me," he interrupted, his grip on her waist pulling her closer. "You—you—are the only person who has ever been able to keep up with me. You challenge me, make me think, make me want more than just a life of expectations and duty. You’re brilliant. You’re infuriating. You drive me mad in the best possible way."Cordelia stared at him, her heart pounding.His voice dropped lower, more serious. "And I love you, Cordelia." His thumb brushed against her cheek, his gaze unwavering. "I love you, and I refuse to let them—or anyone—tell me otherwise."Her breath hitched.Abraxas studied her for a beat, then exhaled, his hand cradling the side of her face. "You don’t have to say it back. Not yet. Not until you're ready." His lips curled into the faintest smirk. "Just—let me love you, okay?"Before she could even process what was happening, his lips were on hers, slow and deep and full of promise. His hand tangled in her hair, the other holding her firmly against him like he had no intention of letting her go.And for once, she didn’t care. She didn’t care about the Malfoys, about expectations, about anything except this—except him.When they finally pulled apart, her head was spinning, her lips tingling, and for the first time all evening, her chest didn’t feel heavy.Then—A single snowflake drifted from above, landing gently on Abraxas’ dark coat.Cordelia gasped, glancing up at the open dome of the winter garden. And just like that, the snow began to fall—soft, delicate flakes swirling down, blanketing the garden in white.Her heart swelled, the combination of his words and the long-awaited snowfall making something inside her burst with joy. She looked back at him, wide-eyed and breathless.Abraxas smirked. "What?"She laughed—light, giddy, breathless—before pulling him in again, kissing him fiercely, without hesitation. He barely had time to react before his hands were on her again, holding her as though he would never let go.Outside, the snow continued to fall. But inside the garden, wrapped in each other’s arms, Cordelia and Abraxas were the only thing that mattered.As Cordelia tugged Abraxas into the kiss, neither of them seemed willing to part. Their lips moved together, breathless and eager, as if every unspoken emotion between them was finally being set free.Giggling against each other’s mouths, they stumbled through the thin snow covering the manor grounds, stopping every few steps to kiss again, only breaking apart for a breath or two before finding each other once more. It was intoxicating—the rush of it, the warmth of Abraxas' hands against her waist, the way he pressed his forehead against hers as if trying to steady himself while his heart pounded just as fast as hers.They barely made it up the grand staircase, lips grazing, bodies pulled flush together as they ascended. Halfway up, Abraxas suddenly spun her around, pressing her gently but firmly against the cold stone wall. Cordelia gasped softly, eyes fluttering open as he captured her lips again. There was nothing forceful about it, nothing wrong. It wasn’t like when Carter had tried to take something from her—this was hers to give, hers to want. She melted into him, fingers threading through his silky blond hair, tugging slightly as he deepened the kiss.When they reached the third floor, their movements became more reckless, more desperate in their giddy urgency. They barely noticed the fragile vase standing by her door until, in their tangled embrace, they knocked against it, sending it crashing to the floor.The sharp sound of shattering glass startled them both. They broke apart, staring at the mess for half a second before looking at each other—and then they burst into soft, breathless laughter. The moment was too perfect, too lighthearted to care about a broken vase. Cordelia wrapped her arms around his neck again, pulling him back in, their kisses growing more feverish. Without another thought, she reached behind her, grasping for the doorknob, and pulled him inside her room.What they failed to notice was the shadow lurking just beyond the corridor. Tom Riddle, having heard the glass break, had stepped outside his own door only to catch sight of Cordelia and Abraxas tangled together in each other’s arms, disappearing into her room. His grip tightened on the doorframe, his expression unreadable.As soon as the door clicked shut, Abraxas’ grip on Cordelia tightened, lifting her effortlessly from the ground. Her body melted against his as his strong arms cradled her, the heat of the moment building between them. Her soft, delighted laugh filled the air, and his heart raced as he carried her toward the bed. The room was bathed in the ethereal glow of moonlight, casting her features in a soft, silver light. Her dark brown hair shimmered like liquid silk, tumbling over her shoulders, and as he lowered her onto the bed, her pale skin gleamed, beads of sweat already forming along the curve of her neck.Abraxas’ gaze darkened as he hovered above her, taking in the beauty of her flushed skin, the way her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. His lips brushed against hers, a soft, teasing touch that made her moan softly, and then he began trailing kisses down her jaw, the warm skin of her neck, each one lingering longer than the last.Cordelia’s hands trembled as she reached for him, her fingers working to unbutton his shirt, each one falling open with slow deliberation, revealing the hard, chiseled muscles of his chest. She pushed his shirt off his shoulders, her fingers brushing against his warm skin, tracing the definition of his body. Her touch sent a wave of heat through him, and he groaned low in his throat, his heart pounding harder as her hands roamed across his chest.With careful precision, his fingers found the laces of her dress, and as the fabric loosened, he could feel her breath hitch beneath him, could see the way her lips parted, inviting him closer. As the dress fell away, the cool air kissed her skin, and she arched into him, her body a glowing vision of flawless pale skin, shimmering with a light sweat that highlighted the curve of her breasts and the delicate dip of her waist He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his eyes dark with desire, pupils dilated."Have you done this before?" he murmured, his voice thick, laced with curiosity and something more primal, something possessive.Cordelia’s heart raced in her chest, and she swallowed hard, her cheeks pink from the heat of his question and the growing intimacy between them. She gazed up at him, her fingers trembling as she brushed them through his hair. “No,” she confessed softly, her voice barely a whisper. “I haven’t.”A surge of something dark and possessive flared in Abraxas’ chest, but it was tempered by a deep, overwhelming tenderness. The thought of being her first, of marking her as his own in the most intimate way, sent a rush of pride through him. He leaned down to kiss her, a slow, tender kiss that was full of promises, full of things unspoken."Then I’ll make sure it’s something you never forget," he promised against her lips, his voice raw, the weight of his words heavy in the air between them.His hands were slow and deliberate as they moved over her body, sliding the dress from her shoulders, revealing her bare skin beneath. Every inch of her felt like a treasure, something sacred that he wanted to savor. His lips followed the path of his hands, kissing the soft curve of her shoulder, the delicate dip of her collarbone, each kiss a silent worship. The pale, shimmering sheen of sweat on her skin made her glow in the moonlight, each subtle movement of her body bringing more of that heat to the surface.Cordelia’s breath hitched as his lips traced the lines of her body, exploring, tasting. She arched beneath him, her fingers digging into the muscles of his back, feeling the way his body tensed with every touch. She was lost in him—his scent, his heat, the way his body felt against hers, like it was made to fit perfectly in the space she offered.Her skin was soft, so soft, and he couldn’t get enough of it, his lips leaving a trail of fire wherever they touched. She gasped, her hands tangled in his hair as he kissed his way lower, her chest heaving with anticipation, the need for him building, undeniable. His hands roamed to the curve of her waist, his fingers brushing against the dip of her hips, his touch deliberate, possessive, as though he was staking a claim on every inch of her.And then, when the last barrier between them was gone, when they were finally tangled together, her body flush against his, Cordelia gasped, her eyes wide as she felt the intensity of the moment. The air between them seemed to crackle, the world narrowing to just the feel of him inside her, filling her in a way that made everything else fade into nothing.Abraxas moved with unhurried precision, each thrust slow and deep, his eyes never leaving her face, watching as her expression shifted from blissful pleasure to something more, something raw. Her breath came in soft, needy gasps, her fingers clutching at his back, pulling him closer as though she couldn’t get enough of him. His lips traced the line of her jaw, whispering her name, each syllable a vow, a promise.“You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice rough, full of devotion and something darker, something possessive.Cordelia’s cheeks were flushed, her lips parted as she clung to him, her body trembling beneath his, every inch of her alive with the sensation of him, the heat of him. She had never felt anything like this—so overwhelming, so consuming, and yet so safe. So cherished. She kissed him desperately, her hands finding his back, his shoulders, pulling him even closer.When they finally reached the peak together, the world seemed to spin around them, their bodies trembling in unison as they both held on, clinging to each other in the release, in the overwhelming wave of pleasure. Her fingers dug into his skin as she let go, her body spasming beneath him, and he held her through it, whispering sweet praises against her skin.Afterward, he didn’t move. He stayed wrapped around her, his body still shielding hers as he pressed soft kisses to her temple, tracing circles on her bare skin with his fingertips. His eyes never left her face, watching as her flushed cheeks softened into a peaceful smile, the moonlight dancing on her skin."You’re mine," he repeated, his voice thick with devotion, “And I am yours.”Cordelia smiled sleepily against his chest, her body warm and sated in his embrace, feeling utterly cherished, loved. As sleep slowly took her, she knew, deep in her heart, this was a night she would never forget. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The first rays of sunlight peeked through the curtains, casting soft golden light across the room. Cordelia stirred slowly, the warmth of the bed and the weight of Abraxas’ arm wrapped around her making it hard to fully wake. She shifted, a soft groan escaping her lips as she stretched, the muscles in her body sore but pleasantly so—a reminder of the night before.Abraxas was still asleep, his face relaxed in a rare moment of peace, the muscles of his jaw sharp and defined in the soft light. His platinum blonde hair was tousled, falling over his forehead in messy strands, and his chest rose and fell with slow, steady breaths, the rhythmic sound a calming lullaby. She could feel the gentle weight of his arm draped over her waist, his body pressed close to hers, as if he didn’t want to let go, even in sleep.Cordelia’s heart fluttered, a smile tugging at her lips as she turned her head to look at him. The memory of the night before flooded her senses—every kiss, every touch, every whispered word. She felt a warmth spread through her chest, a deep sense of contentment, of belonging.She reached up, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of his jaw, the rough stubble beneath her touch a pleasant contrast to the soft skin of his face. His piercing blue eyes fluttered open, and when they met hers, the intensity of their gaze made her pulse quicken. A lazy, contented smile spread across his face as he saw her looking at him.“Good morning,” his voice was rough with sleep, low and husky, the sound of it making her heart skip a beat.“Good morning,” she whispered back, her voice soft, still carrying the remnants of the night’s passion. She glanced down at the way their bodies were tangled, the sheets a disarray of tangled limbs and warm skin. The scent of them both still lingered in the air—a mixture of sweat, the remnants of their closeness, and something more personal, more intimate.Abraxas pulled her closer, his hand sliding along her waist, feeling the smoothness of her skin beneath his fingertips. He nuzzled into her neck, pressing a gentle kiss to the soft skin there, his lips lingering as if he couldn’t get enough of her. His voice was muffled against her skin when he spoke again.“Last night…” He trailed off, his breath warm against her skin. “Was perfect.”Cordelia smiled softly, her fingers threading through his hair as she nestled closer to him. “It was,” she agreed, her voice barely more than a whisper. She felt a sudden shyness—something new and delicate—that made her cheeks flush as she remembered just how vulnerable and exposed she’d been, yet how safe she’d felt in his arms.Abraxas seemed to sense her thoughts. He lifted his head, his piercing blue eyes studying her with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. “You’re incredible,” he said, his voice soft, but full of something deeper. He kissed her gently, a sweet, lingering kiss that was nothing like the desperate hunger of the night before, but something tender, a reaffirmation of everything they had shared.Cordelia melted into the kiss, her heart full, her body still humming from the memories of their intimacy. She pulled back just slightly, her eyes meeting his. “You make me feel like I’m the only one in the world,” she admitted, her voice full of quiet wonder, as though she couldn’t quite believe how everything had changed so quickly between them.His smile grew, and he leaned in to kiss her forehead, the touch as soft and warm as the sunlight pouring in through the window. “You are,” he murmured, his voice thick with sincerity. “You always will be.”The words settled between them, wrapping around them like a soft blanket, and for a moment, there was nothing but the gentle sound of their breaths and the warmth of each other’s presence. Neither of them seemed in any rush to move, to break the spell that had woven itself around them.Eventually, though, Abraxas shifted slightly, his arm sliding from around her waist as he sat up, the light catching his toned muscles and the faint marks of their shared passion across his chest. He looked down at her with a playful smile. “Careful, I might just keep you in this bed all day.”Cordelia laughed softly, the sound light and free, a stark contrast to the way she had felt only hours before. She stretched, her body aching in the best way, but the thought of staying in bed with him all day made her feel giddy. “I’m not complaining.”Abraxas chuckled, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I have no plans of letting you go anytime soon.” ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The grand breakfast hall at Malfoy Manor was bustling as usual, with the clink of silverware and murmurs of conversation filling the space. But as Abraxas and Cordelia entered, there was an immediate shift in the room. It wasn’t that they were drawing excessive attention—they were simply different this morning. There was a quiet, undeniable energy between them, and everyone could sense it.Abraxas walked in with his usual confident posture, his platinum blonde hair styled perfectly, but today, there was something more about him—his smile, the way his eyes lingered on Cordelia just a second longer than usual. Cordelia, her hair cascading loosely over her shoulders, looked a bit out of place in the grand hall, but her presence was magnetic. The faint blush on her cheeks only added to the soft glow she had about her.As the two of them walked toward the table, the group—Quinn Fawley, Cain Avery, Antonin Dolohov, and the rest—immediately took notice. The teasing was quick to begin.“You two are practically glowing,” Quinn Fawley said with a sly grin, his eyes dancing between Abraxas and Cordelia. “Must be something in the air, eh, Malfoy?”Abraxas gave a lazy smile, his eyes lingering on Cordelia for just a moment longer than was necessary. “What can I say?” he replied, his voice smooth. “I’m just happy to see my friends so bright and chipper.”Cain Avery, sitting next to him, snorted. “I bet you are. I’ve never seen you this... cheery. Did something special happen last night, Malfoy?”Abraxas didn’t flinch. His grin widened just a fraction. “Just good company,” he said, his gaze flicking down to Cordelia before returning to Cain. “Some people are just worth getting out of bed for.”The group laughed lightly at the exchange, but Cordelia felt the heat in her cheeks deepen. She didn’t quite know how to respond to all the attention.“Oh, you two,” Antonin Dolohov said with a teasing grin, his voice dripping with mischief. “I’ve never seen you, Malfoy, this content before. Something must’ve happened to make you so chipper.”Abraxas chuckled softly, unfazed by the attention. “Well, I’ve always been content. You just haven’t been paying attention,” he replied smoothly. He shot a glance at Cordelia, his eyes softening just a touch. “But it’s always better when the right person is around.”The conversation could have continued in that direction, but it was Riddle who interrupted next. His voice was low and cool, carrying a weight that silenced the group almost instantly.He looked up from his tea, his piercing blue eyes flicking toward Abraxas, a slight smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “It’s curious, isn’t it?” Riddle began, his words casual, but there was a certain sharpness underneath them. “How something—someone—can suddenly become so... fascinating when you give them your full attention.”The words hung in the air, and the moment Riddle said them, the entire table fell into a tense silence. The guys at the table—Quinn, Cain, Antonin, and the rest—immediately understood the underlying implication. They were there when Riddle had given Abraxas the task. They knew exactly what Riddle meant, and just as quickly, they fell silent, exchanging quick, unreadable glances, but not daring to speak.Abraxas, his jaw tightening slightly, held Riddle’s gaze, understanding the veiled jab. He knew what Riddle was implying—how the task had started as something simply to keep Cordelia in check, but had evolved into something far more complicated. Something real.Cordelia, sitting beside Abraxas, felt the tension rise, but she was completely in the dark about what Riddle’s words meant. She glanced at Abraxas, confused by the sudden shift in the room. The rest of the group seemed to have quieted, but she couldn’t understand why.“Fascinating?” she echoed softly, trying to make sense of it. She didn’t ask Riddle directly, but her eyes flicked between him and Abraxas, looking for answers. But Abraxas, though aware of the subtle shift, didn’t look at her right away. Instead, he calmly reached for the butter dish, his movements smooth, betraying none of the frustration that was beginning to bubble up inside him.Riddle, completely unfazed, took a slow sip of his tea. His eyes, however, remained fixed on Abraxas for a beat too long, the hidden message still hanging in the air. “Some things... just demand your attention,” he murmured, as if to himself, though his words were clearly aimed at Abraxas.The others remained silent, none of them daring to ask questions. Cordelia felt an odd weight settle in her chest, but she still couldn’t place what had just happened.Abraxas responded to Riddle’s comment with an easy smile, though there was an edge to it now. “I suppose that’s true,” he said, his voice smooth but carrying a hint of something deeper. “When something’s worth it, it tends to... draw you in.”There was a moment of quiet before the rest of the group returned to their breakfast, the awkward tension fading, though Cordelia could still sense it in the air.She didn’t know what it was, but she couldn’t ignore the feeling that something important had just passed between Riddle and Abraxas.Cordelia looked at Abraxas again, trying to decipher his expression. He met her gaze briefly and gave her a reassuring smile, but she could tell there was more going on than she realized. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The heavy doors of the Malfoy Manor library creaked open as Mulciber stepped inside, his footsteps light and measured. He had learned over the years to be cautious when approaching Riddle, especially when the Dark Lord was in one of his more distant moods, and this morning had certainly hinted at that. But Mulciber had a job to do—one that could not be delayed—and so, here he was.As he moved further into the room, he saw Riddle lounging on one of the plush sofas, a book open in his hands, his posture effortlessly regal, as if he owned the entire manor. The dim light filtering through the tall windows cast a quiet glow around him, accentuating the cold sharpness of his features. The scene was calm, almost serene, but Mulciber could feel the tension in the air, thick and oppressive. Riddle had been in this mood all morning, and Mulciber wasn’t quite sure why.“My Lord,” Mulciber said, his voice respectful but tinged with uncertainty as he approached.Riddle didn’t immediately acknowledge him. Instead, he took his time, slowly lowering the book and fixing Mulciber with a cold, almost detached gaze. His eyes were sharp, piercing—eyes that made Mulciber feel as though every move he made was being calculated in the back of Riddle’s mind.“How can I help you, Mulciber?” Riddle’s voice was smooth, controlled—everything about it suggested a quiet power that Mulciber had learned to fear and respect in equal measure.Mulciber’s heart skipped a beat. Riddle’s calm demeanor only made him more uneasy. The weight of the day hung heavy between them, and Mulciber could feel the invisible pressure of it. Still, he pushed forward, holding the parchment carefully in his hands.“Sir, my father owled me this morning... about the request you made for the Blackwood family records,” Mulciber said, his voice more hesitant now, the unease in him clear. “He’s sent them over, as you asked.”A brief flicker of satisfaction passed across Riddle’s face, his lips curling into the faintest smile. He reached out and took the papers from Mulciber’s outstretched hands. Riddle didn’t immediately speak, instead staring down at the records in his hands, as if weighing their significance with that calculating mind of his.“You’ve done well, Mulciber,” Riddle finally said, his tone as cold and dispassionate as always. But there was something else there, something that sounded almost like... approval.Mulciber, still standing stiffly in place, gave a slight nod. He wasn’t used to hearing Riddle speak like that. He’d never been one to praise openly, and for a moment, Mulciber felt a flicker of something resembling pride. But that feeling was quickly snuffed out by the overwhelming need to leave before things got any more awkward.When Mulciber didn’t immediately take his leave, Riddle glanced up at him once more, his gaze sharp as ever, before lazily making a shooing motion with his hand—disinterested, as though Mulciber were little more than an errant dog.Mulciber swallowed hard, not daring to linger any longer. He bowed his head quickly and turned to leave, the echo of his retreating footsteps filling the empty room as he made his way out.Once Mulciber had gone, Riddle remained seated on the sofa, the Blackwood records now laid next to him on the cushions. The room fell quiet again, the silence stretching long and thick. Riddle didn’t immediately reach for the papers. Instead, he stared at them for a moment, his mind turning, his thoughts moving faster than any mere mortal could keep up with.The Blackwood family—what they might be hiding, what secrets they could hold—Riddle knew there was something valuable here. He had only just begun to scratch the surface, but he would find it. The question was, how long would it take?He ran his fingers lightly over the records, already planning his next steps. The power, the influence, the connections he could make—it was all within his reach.But as Riddle sat there, a slight smile curved his lips. It wasn’t just about the Blackwood family. It was about everything. The pieces were falling into place, and soon, everything would be his. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✦ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: * ✧ The day had passed by in a lighthearted blur. Cordelia spent most of it wandering the grounds with Delphini, enjoying the crisp air and the stillness of the Malfoy estate. The two of them had talked for hours, getting to know one another—swapping stories about their lives, their families, and their expectations for the future. It was an easy day, the kind that didn’t demand anything of them. No grand tasks, no heavy burdens, just an opportunity to be in the moment.At dinner, the atmosphere had been pleasant, even if a bit quiet. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were away—Septimus had been called away on business, and Selene was busy with preparations for the upcoming Yule Ball. The girls, Cordelia and Delphini, had bonded over their shared reluctance to go dress shopping with Mrs. Malfoy, who had insisted they accompany her. None of them were particularly interested in spending hours in a boutique, but it was one of those conversations that kept the evening light and easy, filled with quiet laughter and understanding.When dinner had ended, Cordelia had excused herself early, the weight of the day beginning to settle in her bones.She was now in her room, preparing for bed. The soft light of the moon filtered through the large windows, casting a silvery glow across the space. Cordelia stood before her vanity, brushing her long, silky hair, the delicate strokes of the brush calming her as she lost herself in the rhythm. The nightgown she wore was thin and short, a simple piece from the 1940s, the fabric brushing her skin like the gentlest whisper. The night felt like a balm—peaceful, with no disruptions, only the soft hum of distant crickets from the gardens below.Her thoughts drifted back to last night—back to Abraxas. The memory of his touch, the warmth of his body against hers, the way he had kissed her with such reverence, such tenderness. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she finished brushing her hair and let it fall loosely down her back. She turned toward the bed, casting one last glance at the full moon before climbing under the sheets. The cool silk of the sheets enveloped her, the world outside her room slipping away. Her mind, still wrapped in the perfect moments of last night, began to drift.And then, like a sudden chill, sleep took her.
The dream—or was it a vision?—came swiftly.

At first, everything seemed normal. Cordelia was in the Malfoy Manor, the familiar gleaming halls stretching out before her. But something was off. The air was thick with unease, and as her footfalls echoed through the manor’s empty corridors, a piercing scream shattered the silence.

She froze.

The scream came from further down the hall. Her heart raced. She turned, sprinting toward the noise, but as she did, the corridors began to twist—stretching, warping—like some feverish nightmare, pulling her further away from where she needed to be.

She kept running, desperate to reach the source of the cry, until at last, she reached a door. She wrenched it open, her breath caught in her throat.

There, lying on the cold stone floor, was Abraxas. His once-pristine clothes were soaked through with blood. His face—his handsome, familiar face—was barely recognizable beneath the crimson mask. His body was twisted in a way that no person should be, but worst of all—he was alive. Barely.

Cordelia’s blood ran cold. She wanted to scream, to run to him, but her body refused to move, rooted to the spot by sheer terror. His shallow breaths sent a cold shiver down her spine as she took in the devastating scene.

Then, a shadow fell over him.

A dark silhouette, tall and commanding, stood above Abraxas’ broken form. The figure’s face was obscured by darkness, but Cordelia knew who it was. The wand raised in the air gleamed with an eerie, malevolent light, and in that instant, her heart dropped into her stomach.

Tom.

The man whose shadow loomed over them all, was standing above Abraxas, preparing to finish what he’d started.

The incantation left the figure’s lips before Cordelia could react, a cold, haunting whisper in the air.

“Avada…”

A sickening, green light flared, flooding the room, and Cordelia’s heart stopped. The last thing she saw before the light overtook her was the dark silhouette, poised with the cursed power of the Killing Curse.

And then, everything went black.
Cordelia woke with a gasp, her heart pounding wildly in her chest as the remnants of the vision lingered in her mind—absolutely vivid, completely consuming. Her skin was clammy, her breath erratic, but it was the sheer dread coursing through her veins that left her frozen for a moment.It wasn’t real, she told herself. It couldn’t be real. But why… why do I feel like I can’t breathe?The image of Abraxas, lifeless and broken, still haunted her thoughts. Her hands were shaking as she quickly threw the covers off, the cold air biting at her skin. But she couldn’t just stay there. She had to know he was okay—alive. She needed reassurance, and there was no way she was going to wait around until morning to get it.As she hurried out of her room, her mind raced. Isn’t Abraxas Riddle’s best friend? she thought, her footsteps echoing down the hall. I mean, sure, they’ve had their ups and downs... but seriously, why would Riddle want to kill him?But the vision—the feeling of that green light, the dark silhouette, the curse—was too vivid, too real to ignore. But no... no one would do that... right?Her heart pounded harder as she reached Abraxas’ room. Without even thinking, she swung the door open with a bang.“Abraxas!” she called out, her voice filled with panic, her breath catching in her throat as she rushed toward the bed.The sudden noise made Abraxas stir. He blinked up at her, disoriented, his eyes still heavy with sleep, but they were immediately sharp as he saw the look on her face.“Cordelia? What’s going on?” His voice was rough, but there was concern in his tone as he sat up in bed, pushing his messy platinum hair out of his eyes.She stood there for a moment, frozen, her heart still racing in her chest. The blood from the dream—the suffocating fear—hadn’t left her. She needed to know he was alright. She needed him to tell her it was just a nightmare.Abraxas could see the distress in her eyes, the fear that gripped her like a vice. His hand reached out, gently pulling her to sit next to him on the edge of the bed.“Cordelia, hey,” he said softly, cupping her face with one hand, his thumb brushing away the tear that had slipped down her cheek. “What happened?”She hesitated for a moment, still reeling from the vision. “I... I don’t know.” Her voice trembled. “I... I saw you. You were hurt. So badly. Blood everywhere...” She swallowed hard, struggling to keep herself composed. “I couldn’t... I thought I lost you.”Abraxas stared at her for a moment, his brow furrowing as he tried to piece it together. It didn’t take long for him to figure it out.“A Nightmare?” he asked quietly, his gaze softening. He gave her a reassuring smile, but there was an edge of tenderness to it. “Cordelia, I’m fine. I’m here. Nothing’s going to happen to me.”She looked at him, still unsure, but his presence grounded her. His steady heartbeat, the warmth of his hand on hers—it was enough to make the fear recede, if only a little.“Riddle… He would never…” she trailed off, almost as if talking herself into it. “I mean, why would he want to hurt you?” Her voice was almost a whisper, a flicker of doubt clouding her thoughts.Abraxas’ expression shifted slightly—though it was brief, a flicker in his eyes. He squeezed her hand, steadying her. “Riddle doesn’t want to hurt me,” he said, but there was a certain coldness to his words that didn’t quite match the warmth of his comforting tone.Cordelia furrowed her brows in confusion, but before she could press him further, Abraxas pulled her closer, brushing his lips against her temple, his voice low but firm. “It was just a bad dream, Cordelia. I’m not going anywhere.”She nodded, though a part of her still felt uneasy. She could feel the tension in his words, the odd undertone she couldn’t quite place. But for now, she would hold on to what he said—he was here, and he was fine.As she rested her head against his chest, she felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her cheek. The nightmare—the vision—slowly began to fade, but a lingering unease gnawed at her, something that told her that maybe, just maybe, there was more to this than she understood.For now, though, she let herself breathe, let the warmth of Abraxas’ presence chase away the remnants of the fear. She closed her eyes and tried to trust that she was safe.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Hey everyone!I’m so sorry for the lack of updates lately. Work and school have been super busy, and I’ve got projects, exams, and papers to write, so I just haven’t had much time to breathe, let alone write.I’ll probably be able to update again around the end of March. I really appreciate your patience, and I promise I haven’t forgotten about this story!Hope you’re all doing well, and thanks so much for sticking around!❤️