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THE SCENT OF OLD PAPER AND INK GREETED HER THE MOMENT SHE STEPPED INSIDE THE LIBRARY, WRAPPING AROUND HER LIKE A WARM EMBRACE.

It was a smell she had grown fond of over the years, one that always brought a sense of calm and focus. The towering shelves filled with books of every size and colour felt like old friends waiting to share their secrets. She found solace among them, where distractions faded and the hum of her thoughts took precedence.

Every Saturday morning, Rosie arrived promptly as the library doors opened, her satchel already packed with notebooks, quills, and ink bottles. Today was no different. She made her way to her favourite spot — a secluded table tucked near the back corner by a large window that overlooked the castle grounds. The sunlight filtering through the glass cast a warm glow over the wooden surface, making it the perfect spot to spread out her materials and dive into her studies.

Books were already stacked around her in neat piles, each one carefully chosen for the topics she planned to review. Her fingers traced the spines as she considered where to begin, eventually selecting a hefty Charms textbook and flipping it open. With her glasses perched on her nose and her hair tied back in a messy bun, she leaned forward and began to write, her quill scratching rhythmically against the parchment.

More than an hour passed, but Rosie hardly noticed. Her focus was unshakeable as she read, wrote, and occasionally paused to ponder a particularly challenging concept. Her fingers smudged with ink and her notes covered in annotations, she barely spared a glance at the other students who wandered in and out. The quiet murmurs of hushed conversations and the occasional scrape of chairs being moved barely registered in her mind. The library was never truly empty, but Rosie had perfected the art of turning out everything but the task at hand.

Today, she was determined to finish outlining her Charms assignment early. It wasn't due until the following week, but Rosie prided herself on staying ahead on her work. She reread each section carefully, cross-referencing her notes with several supplementary texts she had pulled from the shelves. Her dedication to detail showed in the neat, flowing script of her notes and the carefully labelled diagrams she drew in the margins.

As time stretched on, Rosie finally leaned back and stretched her arm above her head, letting out a satisfied sigh. Her neck ached slightly from hunching over her work, but she didn't mind. The process she made felt worth it.

Though she knew she would have to leave eventually, Rosie lingered for a little longer, unwilling to break the spell of the library's peaceful atmosphere. There was always one more page to read, one more note to jot down. For Rosie, the library wasn't just a place to study; it was where she felt most at home.

The sound of footsteps growing closer pulled her out of her concentration, though she didn't look up until a familiar voice broke the silence.

"Found you. I've been looking everywhere," Stacey's voice rang out cheerful as she strolled into the library. Rosie looked up from her notes just in time to see Stacey take a seat across from her. Stacey, as always, looked completely out of place in the library. Her light brown hair had been styled into perfect curls that framed her face, and she wore a short, eye-catching red dress, the kind of dress that drew attention whenever she went. Paired with tall, black boots, Stacey looked ready for a night out rather than a quiet afternoon in the library.

Rosie raised an eyebrow as her eyes swept over her friend's outfit, "Stacey, it's freezing outside. How are you not turning into an icicle without a jacket?"

Stacey waved a hand dismissively, her bracelets jingling as she did, "Don't need one. Marco's taking me to Hogsmeade, and I couldn't say no to that, could I?"

Rosie's quill froze in midair as her head snapped up, "Marco? As in Marco Greyback?"

"The one and only," Stacey replied with a grin that suggested she was more than pleased with herself. "He asked me out last night, and how could I possibly say no? He's ridiculously hot."

Rosie leaned back in her chair, blinking in surprise. She knew Marco Greyback — a member of Slytherin known for his arrogance and the fact that he fancied himself one of Tom's close followers. It was a delusion, of course. Tom barely tolerated Marco, though Marco seemed oblivious to the fact. Still, the thought of Stacey going on a date with him made Rosie uneasy.

"So, when's the date?" Rosie asked cautiously.

"Very soon, actually," Stacey replied, glancing down at her perfectly manicured nails. "We're heading to Hogsmeade in a bit. Why don't you come with us? Ditch the books for a while and have some fun."

Rosie shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips, "No, thanks. You two go and enjoy yourselves. I'll stay and finish up."

Stacey shrugged, already rising from her seat, "Suit yourself, but don't spend your whole weekend with your nose in a book, Rosie. You deserve a break."

Rosie watched as Stacey strutted out of the library, the sharp click of her boots echoing off the walls. As soon as the doors swung shut behind her, the room seemed to exhale, returning to its previous state of calm. The brief interruption hadn't bothered Rosie — if anything, it reminded her why she preferred the quiet solitude of the library over the noisy bustle of everyday life.

She took a deep breath, letting the soft rustle of pages and the occasional scrape of chairs anchor her back into the stillness. Rosie's fingers lightly trailed over the parchment spread before her, and she refocused on her assignment, yet, Stacey's words lingered in her mind. She couldn't help but feel a flicker of doubt about Marco Greyback. His reputation wasn't exactly stellar, and Stacey's tendency to dive headfirst into situations without much thought often left Rosie concerned.

Rosie pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and straightened a stack of books at her side, trying to shake the unease that lingered. She wanted to believe Stacey would be fine — Stacey always managed to charm her way out of trouble — but something about Marco felt different, dangerous, even.

Deciding not to dwell on it, Rosie returned her focus to her studies. She dipped her quill into the ink, and began writing, letting the steady scratch of pen on parchment soothe her nerves. Before long, the outside world faded away entirely, and Rosie was once again completely engrossed in her assignment.

Rosie wasn't as alone as she thought though. While she worked, her focus buried in books and parchment, someone else had slipped into the library unnoticed. Tom stepped through the rows of shelves, his sharp eyes scanning the dimly lit room until they landed on her. He paused, leaning casually against a nearby bookshelf, a faint smirk curling his lips as he observed her.

Rosie looked different like this — so unlike the sharp-witted, fierce girl he was used to. Her hair was tousled, her glasses perched low on her nose, and she wore an old pair of sweatpants and a loose-fitting jumper that swallowed her slender frame. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, and her quill scratched rapidly across the parchment. Tom watched her for a long moment, fascinated by the sight of her so absorbed in her studies that she hadn't even noticed him.

"Rosalia," his smooth voice finally broke the silence, echoing softly in the vast library.

Rosie jumped slightly, her quill halting mid-sentence. She blinked up at him, clearly startled, before her expression quickly hardened. "What do you want, Tom?" She asked, her tone already laced with irritation as she adjusted her glasses and crossed her arms.

Unbothered by her sharpness, Tom stepped closer, sliding into the chair across from her. He reached for one of the textbooks she had been reading, flipping through its pages with idle curiosity.

"You're already working on the Charms assignment? We just got that, Rosalia," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"So?" Rosie snapped, snatching the book back. "I wanted to get a head start."

Tom leaned back, "How about I help you with it? That way, you don't have to waste your entire Saturday here."

Rosie narrowed her eyes, suspicion flickering across her face, "Why would you offer to help me? You don't like me, and I don't like you."

Tom leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement, "I never said I don't like you, Rosalia, and I don't believe for a moment that you don't like me."

The words hung in the air, and Rosie blinked, momentarily thrown off. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, attempting to refocus on her notes, but found it impossible to ignore Tom's piercing gaze.

"Why do you even care how I spend my weekends?" She demanded, her tone sharper now. "What do you spend your weekends doing?"

Tom shrugged, unbothered. "Not studying, for one." His smirk remained as he watched her scribble more notes, her irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. After a moment, he reached out and placed his hand over her parchment, halting her mid-sentence.

"Let me help," he said again, his voice softer this time.

Rosie bristled, pulling her notes away. "I don't need your help, Tom. I need to be better than you," she retorted, her determination clear.

Tom chuckled, clearly entertained by her fiery resolve, "Is that why you spend all your time buried in books?"

Rosie shot him a glare, "No, I study because I enjoy it. I'd rather be here than wasting time doing pointless things."

Tom tilted his head, his expression thoughtful, "There's nothing else you'd rather be doing?"

"Why do you care?" Rosie snapped. "It's not like you've ever cared before."

A flicker of something unreadable crossed Tom's face, but he recovered quickly. "You're awfully defensive today," he teased, but Rosie ignored him, flipping through another textbook.

"What are your thoughts on Lockhart?" She asked abruptly, throwing him off balance.

"Lockhart?" Tom echoed, raising an eyebrow. "Our Defence Against the Dark Arts professor?"

"Yes, him. What do you think?"

Tom leaned back, studying her with interest, "You clearly despise him."

"Because he's arrogant and full of himself," Rosie said, her voice firm. "Half of what's in his books is a lie. He's not fit to teach us Defence Against the Dark Arts."

Tom chuckled, clearly enjoying her passion, "You think someone could break the curse on the position?"

"There has to be someone better suited," Rosie replied with conviction.

Tom studied her for a long moment before shifting gears again, "So, how did you know how to use the non-verbal shield spell earlier this week?"

Rosie stiffened but kept her expression neutral, "It's not a difficult spell, Tom."

"Not everyone can pull it off," he pressed, his curiosity growing. "How did you manage it?"

"That's none of your business," Rosie snapped, her irritation flaring again.

Tom smirked, clearly pleased he had struck a nerve, "You're a mystery, Rosalia Hart."

Rosie rolled her eyes and began packing up her books. "I think I'm done for today," she said abruptly, slinging her bag over her shoulder. Without another word, she turned and headed for the exit.

Tom watched her retreating figure, his smirk lingering. There was something about Rosalia Hart that intrigued him — something he couldn't quite place. The more she tried to push him away, the more interested he became.

~*~

Late that afternoon, Rosie made her way to the Hufflepuff common room, where she was excited to visit her younger sister, Genevieve. It had been a few weeks since they had spent time together, and Rosie was eager to catch up. The warm glow of the common room's flickering fireplace greeted her, adding a cosy touch to the atmosphere. Genevieve, with her bright smile and cheerful demeanour, welcomed her with open arms, clearly delighted to see her older sister.

Genevieve's eyes sparkled with excitement as she launched into an enthusiastic description of her classes, her words tumbling out in a rush, as though she couldn't wait to share every detail. She leaned forward, her hands animatedly gesturing as she spoke.

"I think Potions might be my favourite so far," Genevieve began, her face lighting up. "Professor Snape is brilliant. He got this way of making the most complicated potions feel so manageable, you know? We've been working on a Sleeping Draught, and I thought it was going to be a disaster, but I actually got it right on my first try! It was this perfect shade of violet, just like the book said, and when it worked, it was amazing — watching it settle into that deep, still colour, knowing we did it right."

Rosie smiled, remembering the complicated nature of Potions when she had been in Genevieve's shoes, "Sounds like you've got a knack for it."

Genevieve nodded eagerly, "I think I do! I always liked experimenting with things when I was younger, you know? It just feels natural," she paused, then continued, her voice growing more animated. "Oh, and Transfigurations has been great, too. Professor McGonagall is really good at explaining everything, even when it's something tricky, like changing the form of objects. We've been working with feathers — changing them into pens, which is actually harder than it sounds. You'd think it would be simple, but getting the proportions right takes a lot of practice. I'm getting better at it though!"

"I'm sure you are," Rosie replied with a nod, clearly impressed by her sister's enthusiasm and success. "It sounds like you're doing really well."

Genevieve's face softened with a warm smile before she went on, "Care of Magical Creatures is another fun one. We've been studying the different types of magical creatures, and I'm studying the different types of magical creatures, and I'm fascinated by all of them! There's a Hufflepuff in my class who's super knowledgeable about them already, and she helps me out when I get confused, but the best part has been learning about Hippogriffs. They're so majestic. I can't wait to see one up close one day. I heard we might get to actually interact with one!"

Rosie could tell that her sister's connection to her studies was growing deeper every day, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of relief and joy knowing how well she was adjusting to life at Hogwarts. Genevieve's voice softened for a moment as she added, "I think the hardest class so far has been Charms, but I'm getting there. I've been practicing a lot, and Professor Flitwick says I'm improving."

Rosie's heart swelled with pride at her sister's determination, "You've always worked hard, Gen. I know you'll get the hang of it, besides, you seem to be doing amazing with everything else."

Genevieve's smile grew wider, her confidence boosted by Rosie's encouragement, "Thanks, Rosie. It just feels like everything is falling into place here. It's all so different from home, but in a good way. I'm starting to feel like this is where I'm meant to be."

As Genevieve continued to talk about her classes, her excitement about each subject was contagious. Rosie felt both proud and content, knowing that her younger sister had truly found a place where she could shine, and that Hogwarts was becoming her home in ways Rosie had always hoped it would.

~*~

After spending some much-needed time with Genevieve, Rosie made her way back to the Slytherin dorms. She was in need of some relaxation, but instead of heading straight to her room, she decided to detour to the Prefects' bathroom for a long, soothing bath. The place was always peaceful, and she'd grown fond of the quiet solitude it provided after busy days.

The soft echo of the water filling the tub helped her unwind as she sank into the warmth, allowing the tension in her muscles to ease away. She let her mind wander, thoughts of her sister and the conversation they'd shared still lingering in her head. For a while, she lost herself in the tranquility, the stresses of the day slipping away. When she finally emerged from the water, the warmth of the room and the steam around her felt comforting. She wrapped a towel around her body and began to dry her hair, enjoying the rare moment of peace.

Just as she had finished getting dressed, she heard the door creak open. Her head snapped up in surprise, and her heart skipped a beat when she saw Tom standing in the doorway. His dark eyes met hers, a smirk playing on his lips. Rosie froze, the towel still held to her damp hair, a flush creeping up her neck.

"Nice to see you're finally taking a break from studying," Tom remarked, his voice low but teasing, his eyes locking onto her in a way that made her feel exposed.

Rosie, caught off guard, felt her pulse quicken. She hadn't expected to run into Tom here, especially not like this. "Just a quick bath before dinner," she mumbled, trying to sound casual, but the words felt clumsy as they left her mouth. She suddenly felt self-conscious, acutely aware of how vulnerable she was in the moment.

Tom took a step forward, his movements smooth and confident. He didn't seem bothered by her awkwardness. Instead, his gaze softened as he watched her, and then, almost effortlessly, he reached out and gently brushed a damp strand of hair away from her face. The soft touch sent a jolt of warmth through her, and Rosie's breath caught in her throat, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red. It wasn't just the touch that left her breathless, but the way he always seemed to know how to make her feel simultaneously at ease and completely unsettled.

"Good girl," Tom murmured in a low, velvety tone.

The simple phrase made her heart race, and Rosie's mind went blank. She didn't know how to respond, if she should even respond at all. She just stood there, her towel still clutched tightly in her hands, her mind scrambling for something to say, anything to break the sudden tension that had thickened between them, but before she could find her voice, her instincts kicked in. She turned on her heel, her heart pounding in her chest as she hurried out of the bathroom, desperate to escape the warmth of the moment.

Her steps echoed through the hallway, but she couldn't focus on anything except the rush of her heartbeat. She couldn't deny the effect Tom had on her — the way he could make her feel both unnerved and strangely drawn to him in a way she hadn't expected. As she finally reached the safety of her room, she leaned against the door, trying to steady her breathing, but the realisation only made her feel even more flustered. She couldn't let herself be caught off guard like that again.

After putting her towel away in her room, Rosie decided to join Stacey in the Great Hall for dinner. She was looking forward to the usual bustle of the meal, hoping to distract herself from the swirl of thoughts that had been lingering in her mind all afternoon. As she made her way to the Slytherin table, she spotted Stacey sitting at their usual spot, practically glowing with excitement.

Stacey's cheeks were flushed, and her wide grin made it clear that she was still on a high from her date with Marco. As soon as Rosie sat down, Stacey leaned in eagerly, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"You won't believe how amazing it was, Rosie! Marco is absolutely perfect," she gushed, her voice full of enthusiasm. "And he's such a good kisser," she added, her smile practically reaching her ears.

Rosie couldn't help but chuckle, though her attention wavered slightly. She was happy for Stacey, of course, but her thoughts kept drifting back to Tom. She wasn't sure why he'd been occupying her mind so much today, but she couldn't shake the way his words had echoed in her ears after their brief encounter in the Prefects' bathroom. It had been a simple moment, but something about it had left her feeling unsettled.

"So, the date went well, then?" Rosie asked, trying to keep her voice light, forcing herself to focus on her friend's excitement despite the distracting thoughts tugging at the back of her mind.

"Extremely well," Stacey replied dreamily, her eyes distant for a moment as if relieving every second of the evening in her head. "We spent hours walking around the grounds, just talking, and he ... well, let's just say he's even more charming in person than I thought."

Before Rosie could offer a response, she noticed a familiar figure entering the Great Hall. Tom walked in with his usual air of calm confidence, his dark eyes scanning the room as he made his way toward the Slytherin table. Rosie's breath caught in her throat when his gaze briefly swept over their direction. Her heart skipped a beat, and before she could stop herself, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson. She quickly looked down at her plate, hoping he hadn't noticed her reaction.

Stacey, of course, wasn't blind to her friend's sudden shift in demeanour. She raised an eyebrow, her eyes widening with playful suspicion. "Oh my God, Rosalia," she teased, her voice a mix of surprise and amusement. "Are you blushing? Do you have a crush on someone?"

"No," Rosie muttered a little too quickly, her tone almost defensive, but as soon as she spoke, her eyes betrayed her, flicking up to glance back at Tom before she quickly looked away again, her heart racing.

Stacey's grin widened, clearly enjoying the moment too much. She leaned in closer, her voice lowering as she whispered with excitement, "You do! You totally have a crush on someone! Who is it, huh? Is it Tom? I mean you practically melted when you saw him!"

Rosie groaned, burying her face in her hands for a moment. "Stacey, drop it," she muttered, trying to focus on the food in front of her, but the strange feeling in her chest refused to dissipate. The fluttering in her stomach wouldn't go away, and her thoughts kept circling back to that moment in the Prefects' bathroom — the way Tom had looked at her, the way his voice had dropped low when he spoke. What was happening to her? Why was she suddenly so hyperaware of him, even more than usual?

Stacey, however, was not going to let this go. She grinned even wider, clearly enjoying Rosie's flustered reaction. "Oh, I see. You're not ready to admit it yet, huh? But I can tell. You've got it bad." She poked Rosie in the arm, practically giggling with delight.

Rosie sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. "You're impossible," she muttered under her breath, but even as she tried to brush it off, she knew deep down that Stacey was right. There was something there. She didn't want to admit it, not yet, but the more she tried to deny it, the more the feelings only seemed to intensify.

Trying to regain some composure, Rosie picked up her fork and started eating, but the food tasted bland, the conversations around her muffled. Her mind was elsewhere — still lingering on Tom, his gaze, his touch, the way his words had made her heart flutter in a way she hadn't experienced before. Was it just a passing attraction? Or was it something more? The questions swirled in her head, but the more she thought about it, the more unsure she became. One thing was clear, though — Tom Riddle was starting to take up fare more space in her thoughts than she ever intended.

After dinner, Rosie and Stacey joined the throngs of students making their way out of the Great Hall. The chatter in the hallways was loud, but Rosie felt distracted, her mind still caught up in the whirlwind of thoughts that had been consuming her since the awkward moment with Tom earlier. As they walked, the noise around them began to fade into the background as she found herself slipping into her own thoughts.

They were nearing the entrance when they came across a small group of students standing in front of something scrawled on the wall. The words were unmistakable, and they sent a chill down Rosie's spine. Enemies of the Heir, beware, it read, the letters jagged and smeared as if written hastily in blood. Draco Malfoy stood just a few paces away, sneering with his usual disdain.

"You'll be next, Mudblood," he added, his eyes gleaming as he glanced over at Esmie Grisky, the young Gryffindor girl who had been walking with Lorenzo Berkshire. Esmie looked alarmed, clutching onto Lorenzo's arm for comfort as she took a step closer to him.

Lorenzo shot Malfoy a sharp look. "Oh, shut up, Draco," he snaps, pulling Esmie even closer and whispering something softly to her, clearly trying to calm her down. Rosie couldn't help but admire the way he stood up for his friend, the protective side of him coming out in full force, but before anything else could be said, a shrill voice cut through the tension.

"YOU'VE KILLED MY CAT!" Filch screamed, his face twisted in a mixture of anger and panic as he rushed toward the group. His eyes locked onto Mrs. Norris, his beloved cat, lying motionless on the floor, her fur rigid and her eyes wide open. "You've killed my cat!" He repeated, his shaking finger pointed accusingly at Harry.

Harry's face went pale, his hands raising in immediate defence. "No! No, I didn't!" He stammered, clearly horrified by the accusation. His voice was panicked, but the hallway feel eerily quiet, all eyes on the scene unfolding in front of them.

The tension in the hallway thickened, and just as things seemed to spiral out of control, the commanding voice of Professor Dumbledore filled the space. He stepped into view, his presence immediately drawing the attention of everyone in the corridor. His eyes scanned the scene briefly before he spoke, his voice steady but firm.

"Everyone will proceed to their dormitories immediately," he commanded, his gaze sweeping over the gathered students. "Everyone, except you three," he added, gesturing to Harry, Hermione, and Ron. The three friends nodded solemnly, their faces a mix of confusion and concern as they were left behind to deal with the mess.

Rosie hesitated, her feet barely moving as she lingered in the doorway, watching as Dumbledore knelt beside Mrs. Norris. The cat's fur remained unnaturally stiff, and its wide, unblinking eyes made it look almost frozen. She couldn't help but feel a pang of unease.

Dumbledore's voice broke through the silence once again, calm yet reassuring. "She's not dead, Argus," he said softly to Filch, who was still standing there in shock. "She has been Petrified."

Filch didn't seem to fully comprehend, his mouth working as he struggled to process the news.

At that moment, Lockhart appeared, his trademark smile in place, clearly revelling in the chaos around him. "Ah, thought so!" He puffed out his chest, as if he had already known the truth. "Such a shame I wasn't there. If I had been, I would've known exactly the counter-curse that could've spared her."

Rosie felt a surge of irritation well up inside her. She rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath as she turned to leave. The last thing she wanted to hear was Lockhart's self-absorbed commentary. His arrogance and constant self-promotion grated on her nerves.

As she walked slowly back toward the Slytherin common room, her thoughts were far from the trivialities of the current scene. The words on the wall, the Petrification of Mrs. Norris — it was all pointing toward something darker than anyone seemed to be willing to admit. Even if the professors weren't willing to acknowledge it, Rosie couldn't shake the feeling that something sinister was happening beneath the surface.

By the time Rosie reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room, her chest felt tight with the weight of her thoughts. The uneasy feeling in her stomach refused to go away, and she knew one thing for sure: she had to keep her eyes open. Something dark was at work, and she couldn't shake the feeling that it was only just the beginning.  

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Hello,

Enjoy the new chapter and some slightly flirty moments between Tom and Rosie. I don't know why they happen in the bathroom every time but anyways 🤣

Enjoy! Xo

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