Eve skidded to a stop, nearing tripping on a loose cobblestone on the floor.

"Riddle!" She hadn't expected to see him there.

Riddle didn't flash his usual smile at her, and Eve felt an unfamiliar sense of dread and fear crawl up her spine. She tried to shake the strange uneasiness off—it was Riddle, for god's sake! Being in the dark really did amp up her nerves. He was probably just coming back from a late-night study session or something.

"Eve Laurence," he merely said, acknowledging her full name. He looked down at her with an unnervingly-blank expression on his face, and Eve found herself struggling to maintain eye contact.

"That's me," she said with an unconvincing laugh. I should get out of here. "A-are you heading back too?"

"No, not yet." Riddle turned his head so that he was staring at the tapestry of an intricate garden that hung on the wall next to them. "Come look," he said simply, gesturing at the cloth, before lifting one side of the fabric upwards with his arm, holding it up for Eve to look into the alcove behind it.

Eve blinked, stepping forward despite the fact that every single nerve in her body was lit up and screaming at her to run in the exact opposite direction, away from Riddle's strange behavior. She peered cautiously into the alcove, seeing only dark stone walls. "Um, what exactly am I lookin—"

She yelped in alarm as an invisible force slammed into her back, pushing her into the alcove. She barely had time to spin around before she saw Riddle step into the small enclosure behind her and flick his wand. Eve's own wand flew out from underneath her robes before she even had a chance to lift a finger, soaring into Riddle's waiting palm. Another flick of his wand, and the cloth of the tapestry fell forward suddenly, cutting off any light from the fire pits outside and effectively trapping Eve and Riddle inside the alcove.

"Riddle, what are you doing?" Eve asked, unable to stop the panic in her voice from rising exponentially as she rushed forward, but Riddle blocked her path, his tall figure looming over her in the narrow space.

"Don't bother screaming. If anyone walks past outside, they'll hear nothing."

Eve tried to quell her suddenly-racing heart, alarm bells ringing in her ears. From their close proximity, she could see that Riddle's eyes were burning with a bright intensity, his pupils dilated like he was a predator that had just cornered a very vulnerable, delectable prey.

How could she have been so stupid? She knew this was coming, knew it, yet she still let her guard down, and now she was cornered by teenage Voldemort in a dark alcove deep within the castle in the middle of the night, and she had no way out.

"Riddle, let me out!" She was breathing very fast. "What do you want?"

Riddle stalked forward, a shadow sliding onto his face, contorting his features into something foreign and dark. Eve couldn't help but shrink back in fear. She'd never seen Riddle with such an unbridled expression on his face, a far cry from his usual pleasant smiles and polite appearance.

This was Tom Riddle, unmasked—Eve knew that, and somewhere deep down in her heart, she recognized she was finally about to come face-to-face with him.

"You're hiding something," he hissed, each syllable a sharp grate against Eve's eardrums. "What I want to know is what."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about." Her voice quivered; in any other situation she would've hated the fact that it did so, but right now she would've been concerned if it didn't quiver.

Riddle stared at her for a moment before leaning back, his face suddenly a perfect blank canvas once more. "I see." He straightened. "I do suppose I should give some sort of introduction into my thoughts, seeing as I am springing—" he spread his arms, gesturing at the alcove" —this onto you quite suddenly."

Eve stayed frozen by the wall, watching as Riddle began to pace casually around the small space.

"Do you want to know something I've been wondering about?"

She didn't trust herself to speak, and luckily Riddle didn't seem to expect an actual answer from her to his rhetorical question.

"It's nothing, really. Just a small inconsistency that doesn't seem to add up." He paused, fixing his stare onto Eve. "Because it's strange how a homeschooled girl with American parents developed such a strong British accent."

It took a few seconds for Eve's brain to comprehend what he was implying. "I—you think I'm hiding something because of my accent?"

But even then, as the words left her mouth, a weight of dread had materialized and was sinking lower and lower into her stomach.

Her accent! How could she have glossed over that tiny, enormous detail? Of course Tom Riddle would notice the inconsistency with her fake background and question it, because of course he would! It was a profound detail that was so glaringly obvious to nobody but him, and she should've known.

Riddle hummed noncommittally, watching her intensely. "You can't deny that it's strange."

"Just b-because I was homeschooled by American parents doesn't mean I didn't interact with British society!" Eve racked her brain for anything, anything that would save her situation and get her out of this. "I have a British accent because I've lived in Britain all my life!"

Riddle tilted his head. "But you were stuck at home with American-accented parents talking to you every single day. Weekly runs to Diagon Alley aren't likely to foster such a development in speech."

"You're crazy!"

Eve immediately knew she'd said the wrong thing. Riddle's eyes flashed at that, and there was a long pause.

"I'm crazy?" he said lowly, his voice dangerously quiet. He took a step forward, causing Eve to flinch and involuntarily take a step back. She felt the cool stone of the wall against her palms—she was cornered. "Then how come I'm the one patching up all the inconsistencies in your story?"

Eve gulped. "Riddle, I really don't know what you're talking about." She shifted, desperately avoiding eye contact with Riddle—who had her basically up against the wall—and trying to calculate any sort of escape plan, any sort of way for her to just get her wand back and get out of here.

"No, I think you know very well." Riddle was eyeing her coldly. "You do very well in Transfiguration, as demonstrated from last class, yet you said Dumbledore pulled you aside on your first day to talk about taking N.E.W.T. Transfiguration since it isn't your best subject." He sneered. "That skillset is apparently terrible enough to warrant a personal advice meeting with Dumbledore?"

"H-he really did want to talk to me about that!"

Riddle's eyes narrowed into slits. "Don't attempt to lie to me. If that really was the case, half the school would be lining up outside his door from sheer incompetence."

An excuse, an excuse, an excuse. She needed an excuse.

Eve let her mouth gape. "You're judging my Transfiguration skills from one class? I got lucky last class! My parents have taught me how to do that specific transfiguration before when I was homeschooled!"

"I suppose they also taught you extensive dueling then?"

"W-what?"

"You have the eye of a dueler." Riddle's lips curled, and a dark, intimidating cloud seemed to settle over the alcove. "You easily picked out the flaws of Mulciber—one of the best duelers in our year—and used it against him in your Defense diagnostic." He fixed his intense gaze on her as he took a step back and began to pace around again. "Tell me—how is that? Where did a simple, home-schooled girl learn that? Extensive lessons? Some skilled tutor? Or—" He paused. "Experience?"

The temperature in the alcove seemed to drop ten degrees lower. Riddle was watching Eve with an indifferent expression on his face, waiting for her to say something, and as much as she wanted to look away, to look at anything but him, she couldn't tear her own stare away, because there was no mistaking the unnatural glint of hunger that was so omnipresent in his gaze. He wanted an answer—she felt the chill of his anger, his desire for knowledge, and his impatient fury spreading throughout the alcove, crawling up the walls, swirling overhead in a furious storm, and with the ubiquitous fear that currently encompassed her body, she had to physically pry her jaw open to respond with something before he blasted her to pieces for the long wait.

"No! I—Riddle, where is this coming from? Why are you acting like this?"

That's right, she reminded herself amidst the waves of terror crashing against her resolve. Deny, deny deny. He had no proof of anything, and as long as she continued to dodge any accusation he threw her way, he would continue to have no proof of anything. His suspicions would remain exactly that—suspicions.

"Why am I acting like this?" Riddle hissed, and he was suddenly throwing back his head, his curling lips revealing a set of white, perfectly-even teeth as he let out a low, baritone laugh. The sound made Eve's blood run cold, and she recoiled. "This new seventh-year comes out of nowhere, claiming she's a recently-orphaned pureblood who was homeschooled by American parents, yet she's familiar with Muggle fiction, duels like she's had physical experience in battling, and has fostered a strangely-close connection with Albus Dumbledore within less than a day after her arrival." He inhaled. "It's rare for Hogwarts to receive and accept transfer students in the first place, but all that? You wouldn't be suspicious?"

Eve needed to turn this conversation away from her. Fast.

"I didn't know there was a Sherlock Holmes running around Hogwarts," she mustered, and holy fucking shit she did not just say that to Voldemort. But she stood her ground, swallowing, and stared Riddle directly in the eyes, ignoring the rapid thrum of blood in her eardrums. "So clearly you aren't who you show yourself to be—the nice, polite, unassuming Head Boy that everyone loves. Does anyone else know?"

Riddle merely shrugged, an action that seemed incredibly misplaced given the current situation. "I do what I need to do and act how I need to act." He withdrew his wand from his robes—for a terrible second, Eve thought he was going to curse her, but he only began twirling it around idly between his fingers as he smirked at her. "You could try spreading the word about the big, bad Head Boy, but would anyone believe you?"

Eve didn't bother to answer, because both of them knew the answer. And it wasn't like she hadn't considered the notion of just telling people about Riddle's true nature and wrongdoings so that the truth would spread and unveil itself through the population of Hogwarts, which was a Riddle-foiling plan that was loads easier than tracking down his goddamn Horcruxes before literally murdering him, but in no alternate universe would that even come close to working out.

Because cold, hard facts were nothing without proof, and she had none.

Eve gulped. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the pale, bone-like wand he was twirling in his hand, the motion so much like that of a pendulum, swinging back and forth and hypnotizing her as morbid what-ifs floated to the forefront of her mind like whispering ghosts.

What if he Crucio'ed her for information?

The mere thought was enough to drop fear like a cold weight into Eve's stomach, even though she knew that the chance of Riddle actually harming her physically was slim to none. Yes, he would grow up to become Voldemort, powerful and all-encompassing, but right now he was a teenager confined within the limits of a magical school prowling with students and professors and other powerful folk of the wizarding community, with a fraction of the future power and money and resources he'd have to his current name to bail him out of trouble.

There was no basilisk here to carry out any murders for him, and Eve didn't doubt that some sort of investigation would occur if Kate and Sophie reported a tortured-looking Eve stumbling back into the dorm in the middle of the night.

That's right—Riddle couldn't harm her, here or anywhere in the castle. But all Eve needed to know to feel fear was that he was capable of doing so, and she knew he was.

She shallowed her breaths; her pulse was rising. She needed to get out regardless—she didn't know what obscure tricks Riddle had up his sleeve, and she'd been here too long, and she didn't even want to dwell on the fact that this small encounter had changed the entire trajectory of her plans here.

God, she was so stupid! Think, think, think, think.

Next to her and Riddle, the cloth of the tapestry wavered, the movement of the fabric causing shadows to slither across Riddle's face. As if sensing Eve's eyes tracking the movement, the corner of Riddle's mouth ticked upwards. He leaned forward.

"You're hiding something, Laurence." She didn't miss the singular use of her last name without the customary Miss. "And I'm going to figure out what."

"Expelliarmus!"

Never mind that Riddle seemed to have purposefully given her an opening to escape—having stowed his wand away and leaned against the wall of the alcove casually—like he'd finished his little spiel and was letting her out, a notion that was terrifying but moreso infuriating, or that she'd used wandless magic right in front of him, because at this point, the pure fear and adrenaline that had been surging through Eve had reached a precipice, and she didn't even care about anything anymore, because she needed to get out.

Her wand surged out of Riddle's robes, shooting through the air like a bullet. She'd already swept the tapestry aside and was halfway past when she caught it with her free hand, and then she was running, bolting, struggling to force air up her lungs, the loud clips of her shoes against the stone slab floor thunderous as her legs seemed to operate on their own, carrying her further and further into the dungeons, as far away as possible. She didn't look back, didn't check if Riddle was following her, because at the moment she frankly didn't care what he was doing as long as she got as far away from him as she physically could.

She turned the corner, and the beloved sight of the door to the Slytherin Common Room greeted her eyes.

"Salazar!" she yelled, voice hoarse. The door swung open to her correct password just before she bolted inside.

The Common Room was unsurprisingly empty at this hour. Bullets of raindrops from outside pelted the waters of the Black Lake, the pressure causing water waves to slosh harshly against the tall windows in the back of the room in a beat rivaling Eve's own racing heart.

She barely processed it all, racing up the stairs leading to the dorms. Her shoes pounded against the floor in the adjoining dark hallway, and she bursted into her room, thanking whatever deities were above for the fact that all her roommates were asleep. If she had to endure any small talk after tonight, she might combust.

Eve knew she wouldn't be able to get a wink of sleep tonight. Her mind was blurring—she somehow made it into her own bed, burrowing herself under her blanket, her heartbeat seemingly resounding around the small pocket of space she'd created.

Even as a child, she used to cover herself fully with a blanket when she was scared, when images of scary monsters or frightening thoughts randomly popped into her head when she was trying to sleep. It wasn't like that would ever do anything against real threats, but she supposed it was an if I can't see you, you can't see me kind of thing.

Riddle wasn't an if I can't see you, you can't see me kind of thing though. He was a real threat, and Eve wouldn't be able to hide from him by disappearing into her blanket.

How could she have thought she could outsmart Voldemort? She'd been strolling around thinking everything was going all fine and dandy, when in reality Riddle had been observing everything about her, analyzing and picking out all the inconsistencies she'd spewed because he was Tom Riddle, and she shouldn't have underestimated him.

No, she shouldn't have underestimated him at all.

Eve raised her hands in front of her. Although she couldn't see them in the darkness of her blanket, she could still feel them trembling.

I'm scared.

What was she supposed to do now? In no universe did she think Riddle would ever expose his true personality to her in order to keep up with appearances, would corner her in a secluded alcove and interrogate her and threaten her, but he had, and now he was suspicious, and everything she'd built here and planned was crumbling.

She knew she hadn't fooled him back in the alcove. Maybe she hadn't cracked under his pressure, meeting his every accusation with denial, but she didn't doubt that Riddle saw through it all. Now he was onto her more than before, and he'd made sure she knew.

"What am I supposed to do now?" she whispered to the dark.

Silence answered her.

—

Sometime in the night, in a dark room somewhere in the castle, a drawn-out scream echoed.

It reverberated around the enclosed space, bouncing off the stone walls and causing the torches by the door to flicker ominously.

"I don't know!"

In the center of the room, a wizard was on the floor, physically vibrating in pain from the effects of a fresh Crucio. He was kneeled in front a tall, robed individual, the only distinguishing factor between the two of them being the bone-like wand the standing wizard held, extended in his palm.

"I do not tolerate incompetence, Nott."

"More time—I just need more time!"

By the edge of the room, the shifting of fabric was barely heard. Five other robed figures, their hoods pulled low over their faces to conceal skin, cast elongated shadows on the wall, silently observing the scene before them. Their stillness only contributed to the forbidding atmosphere suffocating the room.

"Tell me you've at least found something of substance on the other matter."

"M-my Lord, I've combed through all the MACUSA records I could access, but there was no mention of the name Laurence."

Silence.

"You stay behind."

"M-my Lord?"

"Leave us." This was directed at the five figures by the wall.

They all filed out, ignoring the desperate pleas of their comrade on the floor, and the last thing they heard was a bloodcurdling scream before the door slammed shut behind them.

—

Author's note: YAYYY FINALLY A NEW UPDATE! I know this chapter's a lot shorter than my previous ones, but I really just wanted to get something out! I also need to get myself used to writing 15k-18k words in a single chapter again, 'cause I haven't done that in a looong time, and I need to train my patience hahah. The fact that this is my first update for Parallel after over a year is lowkey insane to me lol, but it really surprised me how easily I was able to pick back up writing for Parallel. It was like that year never passed-but I guess that's just how the flow of writing goes! As always, reviews and comments are appreciated :)