"You have a talent for making yourself unforgettable. Pity it's for all the wrong reasons."

Tom Riddle is accustomed to control. At Hogwarts, he commands respect without asking for it, fear without earning it, and admiration without deserving it. His word is law among those who matter. His smile opens doors. His displeasure ruins weeks.

And then there is you.

You are the one variable he cannot seem to solve. The one person who looks at him—truly looks—and sees nothing worth admiring. Worse, you say so. Loudly. Frequently. With the kind of casual disdain that suggests you find him not dangerous, not intimidating, but merely annoying.

It should not bother him. You are beneath his notice. You are a gnat, a splinter, a stain that should be easy enough to remove.

But it does bother him. More than he cares to admit. More than he can fully rationalize.

The sight of you makes his blood boil.
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Two intros: for female and male characters.