knights of walpurgis

[tom riddle is the intended love interest] —

you were new to hogwarts, a quiet shadow drawn from beauxbatons and stitched into the cold stone of slytherin’s dungeons. fifth year, sixteen, and still learning the unspoken laws that ruled these halls—especially the ones whispered in the wake of the knights of walpurgis.

you’d heard fragments of the drama—a girl, recently cast aside by avery, had done something reckless to the boys’ dormitory. something strange. something unforgivable. no one told you the details. they never needed to. not when the air turned sharp with rumors and tension curled under every word.

of course, tom riddle would never let such a slight pass. not when it disturbed his domain. not when it questioned his control. punishment, with him, was never loud. it was quiet. precise. almost elegant.

you hadn’t spoken to him. not yet. but his gaze... it lingered. cold and slow, like velvet sliding over steel. you’d felt it on your skin once in the common room—like he already knew your name, like he already knew what you would become.

you didn’t know why he looked at you the way he did. but you knew one thing: tom riddle never looked without intent.

[avery is the intended love interest] —

you were new to hogwarts, fifth year, still learning how slytherin didn’t operate through rules you could actually see, but through glances, silences, and who stood where in a room.

now, you were in the common room late in the evening, most students half-distracted by conversation or homework, when you felt it—avery looking at you from across the space. at first you thought it was nothing, just a passing glance, until it didn’t pass. it stayed.

you looked up properly and he didn’t even pretend to look away quickly. just leaned back slightly like he’d been waiting for you to notice. why was he looking at you like that, like you were part of some thought he hadn’t finished yet? you didn’t know what to do with it, so you just didn’t move for a second longer than necessary, and somehow that felt like a response.

[rosier is the intended love interest] —

you were new to hogwarts, fifth year, slipping into slytherin life quietly, still trying to understand the weight behind names people said without explanation. rosier’s was one of them. always spoken in fragments, never fully described, like people agreed he didn’t need elaboration.

now, you were at dinner in the great hall, the sound of cutlery and low conversation filling the space, when you noticed him. rosier was seated further down the slytherin table, not speaking much, but his attention wasn’t with the conversation happening around him. it was on you.

not openly enough for anyone else to comment on it, but unmistakable once you felt it. when you looked back, he didn’t flinch or shift—just held it for a moment longer before returning to his plate like it had been nothing at all. why did it feel like you’d just been noted rather than seen? like he’d quietly placed you somewhere in his mind and moved on without telling you where.

[mulciber is the intended love interest] —

you were new to hogwarts, fifth year, still adjusting to the way slytherin could feel both crowded and completely isolating at the same time. people didn’t always speak directly here, but they always noticed everything.

now, it was potions, and the classroom was dim and close, filled with the low simmer of ingredients and quiet instructions. you were focused on your work when you became aware of it—mulciber watching you from across the table.

when you looked up, he didn’t move away or pretend it hadn’t happened. he just held your gaze in a way that made you suddenly aware of your own hands, your own movements, like they were being measured without a word being said. it wasn’t obvious enough for the professor to notice, but it felt impossible to ignore. why you, when everyone else in the room was doing the same thing?

[lestrange is the intended love interest] —

you were new to hogwarts, fifth year, and already learning that some people in slytherin didn’t need to demand attention—they just naturally pulled it. lestrange was one of them. not loud, not obvious, just... present in a way that made others adjust around him.

now, you were in the corridor just outside transfiguration, the castle quieter between classes, when he walked past and slowed—not stopping, just enough for it to feel intentional. his eyes met yours for a moment, calm and unreadable, like he was deciding something without needing to explain it.

it wasn’t long enough for anyone else to notice, but it was long enough for you to. long enough that you were left wondering why that brief moment felt more deliberate than any conversation you’d had all day. like you’d been acknowledged in passing, but still marked in some way you didn’t understand yet.

[nott is the intended love interest] —

you were new to hogwarts, transferred fifth year, still learning how silence could feel different depending on who was keeping it. slytherin was full of people who spoke carefully, but nott barely seemed to need words at all.

now, you were in the library, surrounded by tall shelves and the soft scratch of quills, when you realised he was already looking at you. nott was seated a short distance away, not doing anything obvious to draw attention, just... there, watching in a way that didn’t feel accidental once you noticed it.

when your eyes met, he didn’t react. no shift, no embarrassment, no acknowledgement that anything had changed. it made it worse in a way—like your awareness of him didn’t affect his at all. why had he been watching you long enough for you to even notice in the first place? and why did it feel like he’d been waiting for you to realise?