"It's a cruel, cruel world

Erase you from my mind

I'm sorry, but I

I'm cutting all the ties"

- Song by Phantogram

Riddle loosened his grip on Walburga's neck, and she gasped, trying to inhale as much air as possible. As the Slytherin rose from the bed and headed to the bathroom, Walburga, lost in her thoughts, gently massaged her neck.

Month after month, Tom's grips had become tighter and tighter, and his manner of possessing her rougher. Not that Riddle had ever been gentle, in fact, he had made it clear from the start that he wasn't interested in "vanilla sex."

Walburga Black heard the sound of the shower's water; it was time for her to leave. She knew that Riddle wouldn't appreciate her presence upon his return. So, the Slytherin quickly dressed and silently made her way to the girls' dormitory.

Walking down the hallway, she reminisced about her first time. Walburga vividly remembered how Tom's touch alone had made her tremble with fear and excitement from head to toe. She recalled how much it hurt when he grabbed her hair and entered her with a sharp thrust.

Walburga also remembered how, after a few minutes, despite the brutality of Tom's movements, who seemed more interested in inflicting torment than pleasure, she had begun to experience intoxicating pleasure. She adored Riddle, and anything that satisfied his desires had the same power over her. Over time, the young Black had learned not only to accept that pain but to crave it as well.

Through experience, she had come to understand that in order to fully satisfy Tom, she had to pretend repulsion toward his crude ways, and the more she writhed and screamed, the more Riddle seemed to like it.

Suddenly, something else crept into the Slytherin's mind, and with a pang in her stomach, she recalled Artem Nott, gazing at her with affliction from a distant corner of the Room of Requirement as she gave herself away to Riddle.

She remembered how, at one point, Riddle had signalled for Nott to approach and had allowed him to take her as well, and how she, overcome with embarrassment and guilt, hadn't objected to that decision.

Nott had been Walburga Black's long-time boyfriend. She had become one of the most envied girls at Hogwarts when, in her third year, Artem had asked her to be his girlfriend. His status, his looks, and refined manners had made him quite popular, especially among the Slytherins.

Despite being with Walburga, girls still vied to impress him. In the world of magical aristocracy, marriage contracts were made prior to a child's birth, and at Hogwarts, everyone knew that Walburga Black was promised to marry Orion Black.

Nott was two years older than Walburga, and she had to mature quickly to keep up with him. In her fourth year, Walburga, trying to honour her mother Irma's orders, had made it clear to Artem that she would never have sex with him because, of course, she had an obligation to remain a virgin until marriage. But she had given him the go-ahead to teach her everything that wouldn't compromise her virtue.

Nott had accepted that proposal, albeit with hostility, because over time, despite not wanting to admit it even to himself, he had fallen in love with Walburga, and it was only natural for him to want her completely. He sensed that the limits she had set, one day, would become too much for him to handle.

After an intense year of foreplay and her categorical 'nos' when he subtly tried to bring up the topic of sex, his beloved girlfriend had started mentioning Tom Riddle more often than not.

Mulciber, Nott's best friend, had introduced him to Riddle in their fourth year, and that brilliant boy with such well-defined ideals had immediately appealed to him. But he could never have imagined that Walburga Black would be soon desperately drawn to that boy's charm. Her, a Black, hanging on the words of a Riddle, was an inconceivable idea.

It was Artem's own grandfather who had written and published the book 'Pure-blood Directory' in the 1930s, which revealed that there were twenty-eight Pure-blood families in England. And Nott, like many others, knew that the surname Riddle did not belong to any of those family trees.

Nott had thought that at most, Riddle might have been a Half-blood. But for Pure-bloods, there was no distinction between a Half-blood and a Muggle-born; in their view, in both cases their blood was equally tainted, impure. That was the reason why Artem didn't stress too much over his girlfriend's sudden obsession with that anonymous boy. Until one day, Ace Mulciber confided in him that Riddle was a Gaunt, the Heir of Salazar Slytherin.

Few were aware of that relation, and Artem had hoped until the very last moment that Walburga would never find out. But when, in his seventh year, he saw her allowing Riddle to take what should have been his in the Room of Requirement, he understood that she had also heard those rumours. In his heart, the Slytherin had hoped she would stop him, reject him. But that didn't happen; he saw her complacent at Riddle's mercy and sensed desire in her lustful moans.

That night, something deep within Nott changed forever. His affection towards Walburga turned into numbness, and it was then replaced by a feeling of gratitude toward Riddle when the latter gestured for him to approach and make his move. Ace had probably told Riddle how much he had desired her for all those years. And the Slytherin understood that Tom had invited him there that night to give him a gift, however sick that idea was.

When Tom left them alone in the room, Nott made love to Walburga, despite the betrayal he had suffered. When he entered her, he did so with care because, as angry as he was with her, cruelty wasn't his style. Throughout the act, he tried not to break eye contact, caressed her face and hair, and whispered sweet words into her ear.

The following year, Walburga willingly continued to fulfil all of Riddle's whims, and Nott categorically refused the Slytherin Heir's offer to 'share' her. In his eyes, the proud girl he was so devoted to, following that infamous night in the Room of Requirement, no longer existed.

Tom, accompanied by Malfoy and Rosier, made his way to the Defence Against the Dark Arts class, which strangely was being held outdoors.

The sunlight cast distorted shadows on the stone floors. Despite the clear sky, the cold had started to bite, and sweaters, scarves, and hats had been added to the uniforms.

As the three Slytherins walked without speaking to each other, the girls directed flirtatious glances towards them and whispered excitedly.

Tom was used to those reactions and, despite initial annoyance, over the years, he had learned not to pay much attention to them. After all, Riddle wasn't conventionally attractive; in fact, many considered him the most handsome boy to have attended Hogwarts. Not only was he good-looking, but he was also extremely knowledgeable.

Abraxas Malfoy felt infinitely important during those silent walks from one class to another. He had the sensation that being friends with Tom was equivalent to being famous in the magical society. Girls directed dazzling smiles at him, and boys looked at him with admiration.

Certainly, Malfoy also had that proud and arrogant charm that shouted: 'I am a Pureblood,' but there were many Purebloods around, while Riddle's friends could be counted on one hand.

Despite the pleasure he derived from all that fame, Abraxas was very aloof when it came to the opposite sex. He was extremely selective, even more so than Tom; his ideal woman had to be perfection personified.

While Malfoy revelled in all that notoriety, there was someone who would have gladly jinxed every passer-by. Dian Rosier didn't like anyone, and no one liked Dian Rosier. Although he wasn't unattractive, his sullenness and his delirious gaze made many feel inadequate. And even among the Slytherins, Rosier was consistently avoided.

Furthermore, strange rumours circulated about him. It was said that his mother was locked up in St. Mungo's because of him, that he had driven her insane.

When Dian bid farewell to the other two to head to the seventh-year class, many of the students along his path quickened their pace.

"Is everyone here?" Galatea Merrythought' raspy voice overshadowed the students' chatter as they speculated on why that lesson was being held outdoors.

"I can't believe we have so many hours with the Gryffindorks this year," Avery muttered under his breath. The two Slytherins turned to look at him simultaneously.

"And where have you been?" Malfoy asked, furrowing his brow.

"Slughorn wanted me to help with the preparations for this Sunday's party. He said he didn't ask for Tom simply because he thought he had more important tasks to attend to..." Avery replied with a mocking smirk.

"As omniscient as ever, dear Horace," Riddle commented with a casual smile.

"You'll never guess what I discovered while transcribing the guest list..."

"Mr Slotan Avery you seem very interested in today's lesson. If you don't stop talking, I'll have to deduct points from your House," the professor thundered. Avery stopped talking abruptly, but then murmured: "My name is Wotan, you old coot." Riddle and Malfoy both grinned.

Unaware of that disrespectful comment, the professor continued with her speech. Tom was extremely bored by her lessons; they were so simple and mundane that they seemed tailored for third-year students.

His thoughts travelled to the Chamber of Secrets, which he had discovered and opened the previous year.

Since Myrtle Warren's death, he had decided not to enter it again. Sometimes a strange nostalgia for that place overwhelmed him, but the fear that Hogwarts might again be in danger of closure prevented him from approaching that girls' bathroom, let alone recklessly unleashing the monster concealed within it: the Basilisk.

Since the Chamber was no longer an option, Tom was extremely grateful to Malfoy for discovering the Room of Requirement, where he and his 'friends' could continue to practice duelling and experiment with Dark Magic.

Suddenly, Tom's attention was captured again by Galatea Merrythought's voice: "... as you know, Layla belongs to the Wampus House. And today, she will give us a brief demonstration of what she has learned in her five years at Ilvermorny. I took the liberty of sending an owl to Professor Tanaka, who informed me that you were one of his best students. So, dear, come here and tell me how many other students are needed for this duel..."

Tom observed as his sister approached the professor with determined steps and scrutinised one by one the students surrounding her. Her eyes meticulously avoided his, and unconsciously he clenched his fists.

"Usually, it's two or three, Professor..." Layla smiled.

"How many do you want, two or three?" Galatea asked, looking curiously at the girl. Layla smiled again.

"Four, Professor," she finally replied, arming herself with her wand.

"And four it shall be. Weasley, Longbottom, Black, and you, Slotan," she pointed her wrinkled finger in Avery's direction, who glared at her for calling him by that name again. "The request is simple, wands in hand, position yourselves around Miss Colby like the four cardinal points, with her at the centre, and on my count of three, you will attack in turn. Black will start. Try not to do it simultaneously. One..." Avery exchanged a knowing look with Tom. That meant that everything he had taught him couldn't be used in that particular exercise, certainly not in front of all those people, "two... and three!"

Black attacked first, and Layla dodged the strike effortlessly. Tom focused on her slender figure and felt a certain apprehension in his chest. They were four against one, it wasn't fair. Then, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. The Slytherin was amused by that odd thought.

He told himself he wouldn't care, even if they were to kill her on the spot.

Then, his eyes widened when once again that foolish apprehension shook everything inside him like a tornado, and the speed of his heartbeat suggested that he would care indeed.

But that sense of fear for Layla's safety was unfounded, as the girl was doing remarkably well. She was extraordinary. They had even tried to attack her all four at once, but they were slow, too slow for her.

She moved like a silent panther, swift and always alert. Her eyes darted from one opponent to the next, never lingering too long on any of them. She wasn't even out of breath; instead, there was a hint of an amused smile on her wind-chapped lips.

Wotan, more than anyone else, seemed beside himself. Tom was sure that if he kept failing, he would resort to using some illegal spells, he could almost feel it in the air, given the threatening glances he directed at his twin.

"Don't fuck this up, Wotan," Riddle thought, gritting his teeth.

"Professor, may I counterattack?" Layla Colby asked softly, her gaze still fixed on the four opponents.

"Of course, dear. I was wondering why you hadn't done so already."

"I didn't want the lesson to end too soon," the girl said, trying to sound as humble as possible. Merrythought laughed.

A flash of purple light erupted from Layla's wand, and all four boys found themselves bound by enchanted ropes.

Their wands were neatly arranged at her feet. Gryffindors, along with many Slytherins, applauded. The professor congratulated her.

To Tom, that scene appeared distant and blurry; the voices were also far away. Time and space ceased existing when the twins' eyes met at last.

The Slytherin had to stop himself from smiling at her. And astonished, he wondered what that burning feeling in his chest was. Could that really be pride?