Her books felt heavy in her arms. Actually, everything felt heavy compared to the lightness of her thoughts. Tonight. Tonight with Tom. With him.

It was all she could think about. Professor Slughorn noticed her distraction and fretted over her for ten minutes after class ended. Evelyn sighed and just told him that she was distracted with an upcoming assignment. She didn't think telling him that her mind was completely shrouded by a boy would be wise, even if Slughorn did like Tom—so much so that he proceeded to bring him up at least a dozen times in their class, bragging about how "one of his students" might have caught the brilliant boy's eye.

Transfiguration wasn't any better. McGonagall's stern eye noticed that Evelyn wasn't copying down any notes almost immediately and sentenced her to a light detention of assisting the librarian after dinner. Evelyn would have fought had she been braver, would have insisted that she do it another night, a night where she didn't have the most alluring man waiting for her. But McGonagall wasn't the professor to trifle with so she begrudgingly resigned herself to her fate.

Now, she carried those heavy books on her way to dinner, bummed that she wouldn't be going to his dormitory after. Evelyn adjusted the strap on her bag. I need to get a new one. This one was so frayed after years of having textbooks shoved into it.

While she sat at the table, her mind wandered to the future. Not to the far future—the days when she was able to think of a life beyond her death at seventeen were rare—but to the future that lay waiting for her in a few hours. Her evening with Tom. What would they do? Would he finally kiss her? Would they do more?

Would he even come at all?

I gave you my word, Little Dove. I will be there. His voice appeared in her head softly, almost tenderly, which was so unlike Tom and so like him at the same time. Cold, callous, uncaring... except with her. Now, eat.

She smiled to herself and began to pick at the soup in front of her. Pumpkin, it looked like. Evelyn grabbed and spoonful and brought it up to her mouth. As soon as she swallowed it, his voice appeared again. Good girl. I will see you soon.

Soon, Tom. And then his presence left her. She could have sworn that he left the faint caress of darkness behind, like a phantom touch on her jaw, when he left.

. . .

Evelyn's arms arched when she finally finished her detention. It was late, past curfew even. Oil lamps had gone out and the only one remaining in the library was the stern-faced librarian, who looked at Evelyn as if she were the biggest nuisance instead of actual help. Tom was probably worried, though apparently not worried enough to appear in her head and ask where she was. It was no matter; she would see him soon and explain it anyway.

"Goodnight, Madam Pince," Evelyn bade to the black-haired woman sitting behind a desk with a tall, feathered hat.

"Goodnight, Miss Black. Ensure that you are going directly to your dormitory." Madam Pince's voice was sharp and largely unpleasant, though Evelyn knew that the woman secretly liked her. Or at least tolerated her more than most of the other students. After all, when she saw that it was Evelyn who would be completing the detention, she took away a stack of books and softened her dark eyes ever so slightly. It was sad that she was one of the nicest people in Evelyn's life. It spoke volumes about the others.

"I will." She held the note in her hands tightly. Miss Evelyn Black is temporarily excused from curfew, as she was completing tasks on my behalf, it read followed by Madam Pince's signature. Her saving grace if she were to be caught by a prefect. Or worse: Filch. Evelyn shuddered at the idea of seeing him or his cat. They were both horrible. She might have been excused from some of the librarian's unpleasant disdain but she certainly wasn't excused from theirs.

Her footsteps echoed in the hallway as she made the long journey to the dungeons. But when she turned a corner, she halted.

"Honestly, Ron, you would think by your third year, you would have learnt to stop constantly stuffing your face!" a girl's nasally voice called.

"Who invited her?" a boy replied.

"Shut it, both of you! Do you want Filch to catch us before we've even reached the restricted section?" A third one sounded.

Evelyn gasped. There were voices and yet no people to be seen. The corridor was completely empty just as it was before. I must be hearing things, she thought before quickly leaving the area.

The voices stopped and Evelyn thought she might finally be alone in normal land again. But she was wrong. Well, perhaps not about the normal part but about the alone.

"Well, well. Where are you off to in such a hurry?" A haughty man's voice called from behind her.

Evelyn turned around and prepared herself for a scolding from a prefect. But this wasn't a prefect. It was a somewhat-handsome Gryffindor boy with wiry golden hair, a cocky smirk, and a chest puffed out with far too much pride. A prefect badge wasn't anywhere on his robes. He was breaking curfew and he hardly seemed to care.

Well, if he didn't care, she certainly didn't either. She didn't need to stop for anyone who held no authority. Evelyn turned back around and went to leave but before she could, her wrist was grabbed harshly by a large and bony hand. Pain inflamed in her head as she felt herself become pushed against the uneven stone walls of the hallway.

"You're a pretty thing, aren't you?" He sneered. Her heart began to shudder rapidly with fear. This boy was much larger than her, much stronger too. Her thin body could hardly move within his grip, something he seemed to notice with far too much glee. The boy closed in on her with a grin that suggested he knew he had her trapped. Evelyn felt her body go cold despite the nauseating heat of the man in front of her.

"All alone, too. Thank Merlin you were found by such a..." He dragged a finger down her cheek. Bile rose to her throat just at the touch of someone who wasn't Tom. Tom. If only he were here. He would be furious and the boy would probably be dead but, honestly, she didn't care. Perhaps that made her a bad person but she never claimed to be a good one. When the man spoke again, it was with a whisper. "Gentleman."

"D-don't touch me," she said softly. She could hardly find the strength to make her voice any louder. His green eyes peered at her and she finally recognized him. Angus McLaggen. An eighth year, a haughty, self-righteous one at that.

Angus smiled but it was anything but happy. "Didn't you hear me, sweetheart? I said I'll be gentle." He leaned in even closer. "It's your fault, you know. I've never seen you before and now that I have... well, you're just too tempting to resist."

Then, before she could even plead with him to let her go, the man slammed his lips onto hers. With eyes wide open, she screamed into his mouth and used all of her strength to try and push him away but it was no use. He was much taller, much stockier, and much stronger than her. His body didn't move at all.

Evelyn felt a tear fall down her cheek at the idea that her first kiss was just stolen by a man who saw a woman by herself, his only thought being take. His only thought was to destroy something inside of her purely because he was a man and she was a woman and he could use that against her. Why do men destroy?

It felt like a black pit surrounded her and yet she wanted to fall in because the pit inside her heart felt larger, growing with every second that this man's lips were smashed against hers. Growing with every unwanted touch, every silent scream she couldn't release, every hot breath he released against her.

A whimper escaped Evelyn and he must have taken it as encouragement because he pressed even closer. Now, her silent tears were flowing even more freely, coating her lips with a salty, bitter tang.

No, she wanted to scream. Please. No.

And her prayers were answered.

Angus's body was ripped away from hers almost violently. She closed her eyes in relief and sank to the floor. In the background, she heard a vicious snarl, though she tuned it out to rub her robe furiously on her lips, trying to erase the feeling of the man's lips on hers to no avail.

Through unshed tears, Evelyn opened her eyes and saw something—no, someone. Tom. He stood somewhat in between her and the boy now lying on the floor, his body a protective barrier, though she could see his face. His dark, murderous face. Black eyes practically swallowed his expression with a fury that made her blood run cold. Tom's jaw was clenched, losing all of the softness she saw only hours before. He had blood on his face, though it looked dry, as if he stopped whatever malevolent deed he was doing to save her from any more suffering.

"You dare to touch her," he said quietly. But the wrath in his voice was louder than any shout.

Angus noticed it and whimpered. "I- I didn't know, R-Riddle. F-forgive me."

"She is mine," Tom seethed. "You dare to touch what is mine. You dare to place your filthy hands on her. You dare to kiss my queen."

Tom pulled his wand out of his pocket and pointed it at the boy. "What are you going to do?" Angus cried.

"You deserve to suffer a thousand lifetimes worth of pain for placing even one worthless finger on her." His voice grew even colder.

"I-I'm sorry! I didn't know she was yours!"

"That is no excuse. The fact that you would dare to lay a hand on a woman who didn't consent to it is enough reason for your pathetic life to be ended. But the fact that you did it to my woman? Oh, McLaggen." He walked up to where the boy lay and looked down on him with a cruel sort of smile. "You will wish that Death found you before I did because he would have been far more merciful."

A flash of red light came out of Tom's wand just before Evelyn's eyes closed. The man screamed and writhed on the ground, pleading and begging Tom for mercy. But she knew Tom wouldn't offer it, not when her own pleas had gone unanswered by the man just moments before.

Evelyn could almost feel what emotions ran through Tom. Anger that someone would dare touch her, anger so white-hot and yet cold it felt like a new type of fury. Wrath to be inflicted on the tortured boy below. Fear that she was so vulnerable. Shame that something had prevented him from coming earlier. And a large swath of protectiveness mixed with someone else, an emotion so foreign and yet so familiar.

She shut her eyes as the man's screams quieted. Tom muttered a binding spell on the boy before spitting, "No priest, king, or God could ever save you from what you are about to go through McLaggen. I will be seeing you later." Evelyn opened her eyes just in time to see the bound and gagged boy—whose eyes were rimmed with red—disappear from sight. Then, Tom slowly turned around and looked at her with emotions she couldn't place.

"Well," he muttered quietly. She could still see remnants of rage on his face, though it all softened when he looked at where she lay on the floor, her tears still dry but noticeable against her pallid cheeks. "I suppose if you are not afraid of me, you are disgusted by me."

"No," she choked out honestly. Tom looked surprised, a question lingering in his eyes. "I... I suppose I should be. But I'm not. You saved me and... and I've never felt anything like when I saw you protecting me. You're not a good man, Tom." He just used an unforgivable curse on a boy who kissed a girl, albeit nonconsensually. There was no doubt that Tom would have done more if she wasn't there. Since Angus had disappeared, he probably would do more later. But Evelyn had always lived a life surrounded by darkness. Perhaps that was why Tom's shadows had always felt like home. Perhaps that was why she wasn't afraid of them now. "But I don't want a good man. I want you."

He walked over and knelt beside her on the ground. Tom took his hand and used it to lightly stroke her chin. "No one will ever touch you but me. You are mine, Little Dove. My only regret is not being here sooner."

She leaned into his touch. "You came. That is what matters."

"I will always come. Always."

She smiled softly and looked into his eyes. Tom ran a finger over her face, almost tracing the same path that Angus did when he first touched her. Then, his fingers moved to her lips. They still felt bruised from the man's rough, unwanted kiss. But with Tom's touch, the ache disappeared, instead left by a warmth only his coldness could bring.

His thumb ran along her bottom lip before his eyes darkened. "He kissed you," he growled lowly, his chocolate eyes growing black with rage.

She quivered under his gaze. Yes. She couldn't bring herself to say it so she projected the thought to him. He took my first.

Tom's hand hardened into a fist, though he wasn't any less gentle with her. He cursed under his breath before standing up and running his hand through his neat curls. Though, as she looked at them more, she supposed they weren't too neat. They were covered with specks of blood. She wasn't sure whose blood it was and she had a feeling she didn't want to know.

"Get up," he said in a harder voice. The anger wrapped around the words, choking the air she breathed and yet she complied, knowing that it was better to do so when he was so furious he might leave just to torture Angus all over again. Evelyn knew Tom would never hurt her. It was clear that if he wanted to, he easily could have by now. But he didn't and so even though he was a tad more demanding now, she wasn't afraid to do what he asked.

Tom paced around the hallway while Evelyn slowly stood, still leaning her weight against the hard stone of the castle. It was silent for several moments. The only sound was Tom's luxurious black shoes against the floor. Finally, he turned to stare at her with the coldest fire she had ever seen raging in his eyes.

"He dared to kiss you," he seethed. It felt like he was speaking more to himself than to her. "He put his lips on yours. He touched you."

Tom's hands shook with fury even as he stalked over to where she stood. He pressed his lean body against hers and Evelyn couldn't help but gasp. She had never been closer to him. Every part of him was against every part of her and even though they were fully clothed, completely out in the open, she had never felt anything quite so intimate.

He grabbed her chin with a rough touch. His fingers felt cold against the sharpness of her jaw. How was it possible that fingers like ice could melt her with just the whisper of a touch? "He touched what is mine," Tom said, his voice now softer and a little hoarse, so unlike the smooth richness she was accustomed to. "He kissed you, Little Dove... and I cannot bear it. I cannot bear that your lips have been touched by anyone but me."

She stared into his eyes. They were like pools of darkness, no stars in sight. She wondered what it might look like to see love in the depths of shadow. And yet she found herself getting lost in them as Tom continued to stroke her face. The way he grabbed her chin felt so possessive and Evelyn wanted to be possessed by him. She liked knowing that she was his, that she was finally wanted for the first time in her life. She had nothing to give him and yet she surrendered everything to him. Tom owned her, mind, body, and soul. He always had. Evelyn allowed herself to get lost in his smooth caresses knowing that they had always been his to take.

Tom wasn't a great man. He wasn't even a good man. But he was her man and that was enough. She couldn't pretend like she was an upstanding person either—not with the way she enjoyed hearing Angus's screams. So, in a way, the darkness inside of him called to her, drawing her in with every breath. Tom's, a part of her soul whispered. We are Tom's. We have always been Tom's. They were connected by this bond, utterly so.

Evelyn didn't even know how lost she had been before he found her. And now that he found her, she could do nothing but lose herself in him all over again.

"Your body should know no one but me. Your lips should know no one's but mine. You are—"

"Yours, Tom," she whispered. "I have always been yours."

He hissed in a breath. "Then I will show you, Little Dove, what a real kiss is like. I will erase the memory of him from your lips. I may not have made it in time to be your first kiss but I will be your last."

And with that, Tom brought himself to her and touched her with a softness she had never felt before. His lips were smooth and tender against hers, his body now pressed to her own completely. One of his hands wrapped around her waist while the other moved to cup her cheek. Evelyn felt one of Tom's curls brush up against her forehead, though she was beginning to focus more on the pulsing of his core against hers. It felt good, incredible, really. Kissing Tom felt like finding a piece of herself she hardly knew she had lost. Evelyn felt whole, there with him in the Hogwarts corridor. She felt, perhaps, the phantom feeling of what it would be liked to be loved by someone like him, to feel his tenderness for eternity. Because being with Tom made her feel like she did have an eternity.

She hardly had time to register the dizzying emotions rushing through her head before he bit her bottom lip. Evelyn gasped with shock, pain, and pleasure. It might sound a little ridiculous but she had never imagined that pain could feel so good. And yet the stinging on her mouth gave rise to a new sort of satisfaction that had her toes curling in her shoes.

Tom's hand on her waist brought her body even closer to his as he began to work his mouth against hers. Slowly, at first, as if he were letting her get used to the sensation. Then he quickened, pressing into her with a fervor that left no room for discussion on who was in charge. He led her, dominated her. And she was more than happy to submit to him.

He was fierce and hungry and yet gentle and tender all at the same time. "Tom," she moaned into the kiss, leaning into him and wrapping her arms around his neck. "Tom."

He pulled away and rested his forehead against hers. "Are you alright, my darling?" he asked softly. She could hardly believe he tortured someone only meters away just a few moments ago. Tom Riddle was a nightmare and yet he was a dream to her.

"I'm better than alright."

He smirked. No. He smiled. It was pretty small and a little unnatural but Tom Riddle was actually smiling. "You're beautiful when you smile," she whispered, bringing her hand around to his face to trace first his lips, then the dimple that appeared. His other smiles had been fake, tools he used to charm or manipulate. But this one felt real. This one felt like hers.

"You are everything, Little Dove," he murmured, pulling her face back to his for one long, searing kiss. He didn't try to take it any further. "Come. You need to rest. I'm afraid the evening I had in mind will have to wait." Tom began to walk, though he kept a firm hand at the small of her back as he guided her back to the dungeons.

"What did you have in mind?"

"You. Me. That nightgown shredded on the floor." He said it so nonchalantly she was shocked.

"That's my favorite one!"

Tom smirked. "Don't pretend the idea of me ripping the satin from your skin and showing you what a true man would do to his woman doesn't thrill you." His words sent another rush of heat through her.

"It doesn't," she muttered.

He bent down and whispered in her ear just as they walked into his dark bedroom, "Your lies taste sweet, Little Dove. But I know something that would taste much sweeter." Another moan almost escaped her lips. Her toes curled again. "Another night, perhaps. You need to sleep and I have... business to attend to."

Business meaning torturing Angus McLaggen. She couldn't pretend to care about the man's well-being. In her mind, he deserved it. He and any other man who tried to touch a woman when it wasn't wanted.

"Will I see you later?"

"Perhaps. It depends on how quickly my business is finished."

She frowned, though perhaps not for the morally correct reasons. "Darling," Tom crooned. "I told you once that your safety is my top priority. He made you feel unsafe. He deserves to be punished."

"I feel like I'm being punished," she grumbled as she lay in the large poster bed.

All of a sudden, Tom's fiery eyes appeared in front of her. "Keep giving me that attitude and you will be punished." But the idea of being punished by him only sent another wave of heat down her spine.

Evelyn just settled into the thick pillows. They were soft and luxurious, already beginning to lull her to sleep. "Hurry back," she whispered.

He bent down and kissed her forehead. Gentle even when he was about to torture a man in Merlin knows what way. Tom Riddle was an enigma in that way. "Do not worry, Little Dove. There is no rush. We have until eternity. Until the stars have burnt out in the sky and have left only darkness."

She smiled before closing her eyes. "I've always liked the darkness more anyway."

And then he left, again leaving the wisp of a shadow in place as he appareted. But late into the night, when Evelyn awoke with a cold bed still next to her, she could have sworn that she felt a phantom kiss on her forehead before a lilting voice lulled her back to sleep.

Sleep, Little Dove. And in your dreams, think of me as I think of you. She wanted to tell it that she always had thought of it, that she only ever would. That she might have begun to love it. But she was so tired and comfortable there in that bed. And so the words went unsaid.

What do you think? We had a first kiss, we had some lines I really liked, we had a "don't touch her" moment, we had the beginnings of love. So what do you think? I honestly wasn't sure how to end this chapter so hopefully the ending was fine lol. Thanks for reading and supporting :)))