VIVIAN LUPIN

It's this scent...
It swirls through my senses like smoke—intoxicating and impossible to place. It feels like the moon and the sun, the positive and the negative, the good and the evil, the light and the darkness, the truth and the lie. Opposites. And yet, always bound together. If he's a soulmate, then—
"Lupin!"
The sharp call of my name snaps me out of the thought spiral. I blink, dragged back to the present, and find Riddle's eyes already on mine.
"Who's dead?" I blurt without thinking.
A low chuckle rumbles from his throat—an unexpected sound that makes my breath hitch. It might be the first time I've ever heard him laugh. And strangely... It's not displeasing.
"Professor Slughorn wants to speak with us after class," he says calmly.
My brow furrows in confusion. "Why? Have we done something wrong?"
"You might have," he replies smoothly. "I, on the other hand, haven't. Although you don't exactly do much during class." It's an insult, but more than that—it's an answer to a question I didn't ask aloud. My stomach twists.
"Well, if you'd let me practice brewing for once, I'd be focused on that instead of watching you," I snap back. He rolls his eyes, and I can practically see the next insult forming behind them. But it never comes.
Quit staring at me like that.
His voice drops into my thoughts like a stone in water. His eyes remain locked on mine, sharp and unreadable. I quickly look away, pretending to focus on the bubbling potion in the cauldron in front of us.
My fingers flip through the pages of my notebook, eyes scanning half-finished notes—most of them recreated from his handwriting. I remember slipping a small thank-you note between the pages of his textbook before returning it. A silent peace offering.
Now I wonder if he ever read it.

Professor Slughorn dismisses the class just before his eyes meet mine. I quickly avert my gaze and find Tiernan's eyes instead. I roll mine at him, trying to signal that I need to stay behind. He smothers a laugh, nods subtly, and slips out with the others.
We wait in silence as the last of the students leaves the room. With a flick of his hand, Slughorn closes the door.
"You wanted to see us, Professor?" I ask, breaking the silence. His eyes flicker between me and Riddle.
"I did," he says. "Though this concerns you more than Tom, m'boy. Your grades are just hovering at average, but I know you can do better. I see potential in you, Miss Lupin."
He sees potential.
In me?
Don't make me laugh.
"You see potential," I repeat flatly. "Continue."
"I was thinking a tutor would help. Someone to guide you."
His eyes glance toward Riddle before returning to mine.
No.
I glance at Riddle. He's already looking down at me.
Surprise.
His voice rings clearly in my head. The words don't come from his mouth—yet I hear them. Just like before. The idea of him tutoring me fades into the background.
What matters now is... does he know I can hear him? And can he hear me too?
"Tom, m'boy, has been kind enough to volunteer," Slughorn continues. His voice brings me back to the moment. My stomach twists with annoyance, and I clench my fists, nails digging into my palms.
"That is most kind of him," I say sweetly, voice sugarcoated with forced gratitude. I offer a faint, fake smile.
"I just know you can do so much more," Slughorn beams, entirely oblivious to the storm inside me. "And with Tom being the top of my class, he's the best choice to help."
"I appreciate your faith in me, Professor," I say smoothly. "However, I am terrible at Potions. Riddle said it himself—called me useless, in fact." I turn to Riddle, raising an eyebrow.
Slughorn gasps. "Did you say that to Miss Lupin?"
"I did," Riddle says without hesitation. "But I've made it up to her. Right, Lupin?" I feel his eyes on me, but I refuse to meet them.
"He did," I grit out.
"Well, I'm glad to hear that," Slughorn says with a chuckle. "It's settled then. Tom will help you improve your Potions skills." He waves us off, and I leave the classroom in a haze. A strange mix of shock and conflict surges through my veins. The terrifying idea of him being my soulmate won't leave me. And yet... if he is, it changes everything.

"I'll schedule our first tutoring session for tonight," he says suddenly.
I snap back to reality. "No. You're not going to tutor me."
"You don't have much of a choice, Lupin," he replies sharply, walking beside me with his hand gripping the strap of his bag.
"Why you? Out of all students—why you?" My voice cracks with frustration.
He suddenly grabs my arm, and a jolt of electricity shoots through me. My eyes fly up to meet his—and I see it. His eyes widen.
"What?" I snap.
"Your eyes," he says, breathless.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I yank my arm free and turn away, walking as fast as I can. I need to get away from him. But his footsteps follow.
"Lupin!" His voice rings behind me, demanding. I keep walking, each step faster than the last.
"Vivian!" His voice slams into my chest like a hammer. My body locks up. I freeze in place, my breath hitching, a shiver racing down my spine.
He approaches, and I don't move. I keep my gaze locked on the floor.
"Look at me," he growls, voice low and cold.
I shake my head. "Schedule that session and leave me alone."
He doesn't reply right away. Then, "Seven p.m. tonight. In the library."
I hear his footsteps retreating, leaving behind the thunder of my own heartbeat in my ears. My knees give out, and I sink to the floor. The tears come fast, trailing down my cheeks.
This is it.
My secret is no longer safe.

"Stop crying."
The voice makes my eyes snap open, even as tears still blur my vision. I look down and see his shoes in front of me. I already know who it is.
"Get on your feet."
I stand, wiping my face, ready to walk past him. I can't take more humiliation. But he stretches his arm out, blocking my path. Then I feel it—his hand on my shoulder—and before I know it, he pulls me into his chest. I tensed, shocked. The contact is too much, too charged. My whole body burns with static.
But... slowly, I relax. My muscles unclench. I press my face into his chest, letting the scent of him calm the chaos in my mind. He holds me for just a moment before stepping back. The warmth vanishes with him.
"You didn't have to do that," I mumble, searching his eyes. There's something in his expression, but I can't place it.
"Don't speak of it," he mutters. "Don't be late. Seven p.m." Then he walks away. I stand there, eyes wet, heart rattling. I take a shaky breath and turn toward the courtyard, praying I'll find Remus and the others—anything to feel normal again.

"I hear there's going to be a Christmas Ball," Sirius says with a grin tugging at his lips.
"A ball for fifth years and up," James adds, wiggling his eyebrows at Lily. She rolls her eyes, and I let out a quiet chuckle but stay silent. Remus nudges my arm gently, drawing my attention. "You okay?" he asks softly.
I give him a faint smile and shake my head. "Tom Riddle saw my eyes," I whisper. Remus's expression shifts instantly. "I broke down... and then he comforted me."
He blinks, stunned. "Seriously?"
"I didn't expect it either," I murmur. "But he's still a Slytherin. He could be playing a game."
Remus wraps an arm around my shoulder, grounding me. "Whatever he's playing at, we'll figure it out. Together."
"We'll need dance lessons too," Lily says with a light laugh, steering the conversation to lighter ground.
"Maybe with the person sitting next to you," Peter adds with a teasing grin. I glance toward James just in time to see the blood drain from his face.
"Who's he sitting next to?" I ask, already smiling.
Lily smirks. "Not me."
"A guy," James grumbles. "A Hufflepuff guy." A laugh bursts from me as I lean into Remus's side. But then his voice brushes close to my ear.
"Remember who you are sitting next to, Luna." The laughter dies in my throat. I place a hand on my chest, trying to steady the sudden flutter there.
"Tom Riddle doesn't dance," I say, half to myself. "He won't even show up to a ball." But then I catch it—his scent, cold and unmistakable. Like he's summoned by the mention of his name, he steps into the courtyard. My gaze lifts instinctively... and finds his.
Our eyes lock.
"Speak of the devil," I breathe.

After dinner, a knot coils in my stomach, tight and unforgiving. I gather my books from the common room with slow, reluctant hands. My feet feel like they're made of stone as I head toward the library, each step dragging me closer to something I both dread and anticipate.
"You need to do this," I whisper to myself, though the words barely convince me. Riddle's cologne lingers in the corridor like a trail, and I hate how the scent calms me—familiar, dark, crisp. It's twisted, really, to find comfort in the presence of someone I fear. But I follow it, letting the scent pull me through the aisles until I find him.
He's already there, seated at a table with a book in his hands, perfectly composed. His eyes lift the second I pull back the chair.
"Hello, Ms. Lupin," he says smoothly, closing the book with deliberate care. "Let's dive right into it."
I say nothing. Just nod. I pull out my Potions textbook and a nearly empty notebook, flipping it open and setting my quill down. As he begins to speak, I write—every word he says, I etch into the paper, refusing to miss a single sentence.
This is how our first tutoring session begins. Quiet. Intense. Not a single mention of my eyes.
I don't know how long we've been here when he finally leans back, the chair creaking softly under the motion.
"That's enough information for tonight," he announces, his tone final. "Next session is Saturday morning. Nine o'clock sharp."
He begins packing his books with that same eerie precision. I do the same, slower, distracted as I scan the library.

I frown. "Where the hell is Aramir?"
"Something amiss?" Riddle asks, his voice soft and intrusive all at once.
I look at him, irritated. "Aramir was supposed to patrol with me tonight. But, of course, he's vanished. Great. I'm going to kill that idiot."
"Feisty." There's a flicker of amusement in his voice, and I catch the smallest twitch of his lips—almost a smile. Almost.
I exhale sharply. "Guess I'll be patrolling alone. Thanks a lot, Hawthorne," I mutter under my breath.
Riddle rises slowly. I don't miss the faint uptick in his pulse. It's subtle, but it's there. A shift.
"Would you accept my presence during your patrol?" he asks, and there's something unnervingly gentle about the way he says it. Like it's a real question. Like he's giving me a choice.
I blink. "What?"
His expression remains unreadable, hands clasped neatly behind his back. "Would you prefer if I joined you? For your patrol."
Is he actually asking to spend more time with me? This is bizarre. Riddle never walks with students outside of his little circle of Slytherins.
"Wouldn't that be... awkward? Or weird?" I narrow my eyes slightly. "You're never seen with anyone outside your house."
He shrugs like it means nothing. "Students are under curfew," he says simply. "They won't see us. And if they do, they wouldn't dare speak of it."
He has a point. I hate that he has a point.
But walking with him? That's dangerous—for more reasons than I care to admit.
He's my soulmate. And the most feared student in Hogwarts.
Fantastic combination.
I sigh. "Fine. But if you say anything—anything—about my eyes, I'm leaving."
He raises his hands, mock-innocent. "You don't hear me objecting."
"No, but I know you want to." I tilt my head, watching him carefully. "You're dying to bring it up." He glares at me. It's cold, pointed—confirmation that I'm right.
"Don't challenge me, Lupin," he says, low and sharp.
I laugh under my breath and shake my head, already turning toward the library doors. "Let's go." He follows without another word.
And just like that, we walk into the dark halls of Hogwarts—side by side.