For Tom Riddle, today was destined to be… trying.
After all, it was Valentine's Day.
He awoke to find a beautifully wrapped chocolate on his bedside table, even before he'd left his dorm.
The giver was obvious; only one person possessed a key to his private chambers.
...
After washing, he opened the door to find Nagini waiting, positively radiant.
She had dressed with particular care for the occasion, wearing a long black dress accented with dark blue that seemed, at first glance, to be embroidered with stars—glamorous yet understated.
Seeing her expectant face, Tom gently stroked her long, dark hair. "My little snake looks particularly fetching today."
Then, with the other hand, he retrieved the chocolate from his bedside table. The wrapper was already torn, revealing the confection beneath.
Crunch…
Tom took a bite, raising an eyebrow at Nagini. "Mmm… not bad."
Hearing his approval, Nagini seemed to taste the chocolate herself, a sweet sensation spreading through her.
Her pleasure was transparent.
Tom couldn't help but smile; his little snake was so easily pleased.
...
Leaving the dormitory was the start of Tom's woes.
Countless young witches accosted him on the way to the Great Hall.
"Professor, are you free after class today?"
"Professor, I made these chocolates myself. Won't you try one?"
"Professor, actually…"
Before Tom could react, a mountain of chocolates materialized in his hands.
Nagini, her face darkening, seized Tom's hand, pushed through the throng, and hurried away from the infatuated mob.
After what felt like an arduous journey, they finally reached the Great Hall, where the crowd began to thin.
Tom found a seat and surveyed the massive pile of chocolates in his hands. He'd envisioned enjoying it as a pre-dinner dessert.
But Nagini unhesitatingly confiscated them, her brow furrowed and lips twitching. "Too many sweets are bad for you, Tom. I'll… dispose of these for you."
Though he didn't know exactly what "dispose of" entailed, Tom strongly suspected he would never see the chocolates again.
Never mind, he thought, I can always get my apprentice to buy me more with her pocket money.
Thus reassured, Tom ate his breakfast in peace, or so he thought.
"Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!"
Gilderoy Lockhart, resplendent in a purple robe, burst through the doors of the Great Hall.
Beaming, Lockhart announced, "Thus far, I've received twenty-four Valentine's Day cards! Fewer than last year, perhaps, but I must express my sincere gratitude. And please forgive my presumption, but I've arranged a little surprise for you all."
Lockhart clapped his hands, and twelve winged dwarves, looking utterly miserable, marched into the hall carrying harps.
"Please welcome… my friendly little Cupids, here to deliver your cards!"
As Lockhart explained, the dwarves' task was to deliver love letters.
The following chaos ensued:
The dwarves scurried around the Great Hall, locating recipients and reading the messages aloud, most of which were awkwardly written love letters.
Many of the young witches, experiencing their first crushes, were far from eloquent, resulting in cringe-worthy prose that left the recipients more mortified than touched.
Particularly Tom Riddle, before whom nine of the twelve dwarves gathered. Were he not so supremely self-possessed and indifferent to the opinions of others, he likely would have wished to disappear into the floor.
Besides Tom, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy also received greetings.
There were twelve dwarves in total: nine attended Tom, one each approached Harry and Malfoy, and the last accosted a young wizard in Ravenclaw.
Those who received nothing were consumed by envy, congregating and falling prey to "sour grapes" – which rapidly escalated to, "All the Death Eaters got cards; perhaps we should join them?"
Those who received no cards felt depressed, but so did some who did.
Harry and Malfoy, for example, were not thrilled with their admirers' efforts.
"...Ah! Your green eyes, like green toads…"
Harry's forehead was a mass of wrinkles, his face so dark that one might have mistaken him for an exchange student from Uagadou.
Compared to Malfoy, however, Harry's fate was almost enviable.
"...Your golden slicked-back hair, so dazzlingly eye-catching, and your striking hairline reaching for the clouds…"
Malfoy gasped, his vision swam, and he promptly fainted.
"Oh no! Malfoy's fainted!"
"Someone get Madam Pomfrey!"
"Hey, hey, hey, that little dwarf hasn't finished reading yet! I want to hear more!"
"Alright, then leave Malfoy where he is."
"..."
Observing the commotion, Albus Dumbledore smiled kindly, a wistful memory crossing his mind—his beautiful past with Gellert Grindelwald.
Come to think of it, I haven't corresponded with Gellert in quite some time. Perhaps I shall write him a letter tonight.
The other professors were less pleased. Most of the Hogwarts faculty were single, especially Severus Snape.
Snape glared at Lockhart, his expression venomous, no doubt contemplating violent acts of verdant hue.
He hated Lockhart. He hated Valentine's Day.
Lockhart, basking in the glow of his perceived cleverness, failed to notice the sudden chill in the air.
He was certain this little surprise would win Tom's favor, and he was already anticipating the reward to come.
...
When Tom finally completed his classes and returned to his office, he discovered a veritable mountain of chocolates on his desk.
"..."
The day had been exhausting enough—ambushed by students, ambushed by dwarves... Shouldn't he be the one doing the ambushing?
Tom had hoped to return to his office for some peace and quiet, but the sight of the chocolate mountain only deepened his weariness.
With a sigh, Tom sank into his chair, picked up a chocolate, tore open the wrapper, and prepared to taste it…
He paused and sniffed.
"What is that smell?"
Tom examined the chocolate with a puzzled frown. It appeared normal, smelled quite sweet, yet… it evoked a subtle, pleasurable sensation within him.
Wait, could it be…
An unsettling thought flashed through Tom's mind, and he immediately opened several more boxes.
As expected, they were all the same.
Scanning his desk, he noticed other candies and several greeting cards mingled with the chocolates.
Tom, his expression incredulous, unwrapped a candy and sniffed it, then opened a greeting card. The card seemed to have been sprayed with perfume—an indescribable fragrance wafted into his nose.
"Seriously? They're spraying love potion on their greeting cards!"
Tom threw the cards back onto the desk and slumped back in his chair, exasperated.
He could guess who was responsible.
In fact, Tom was fairly certain that the entire collection originated from a single, persistent admirer.
After all, few could gain access to his private office.
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