"Thank you for the love letter."
Tom Riddle smiled, gently taking the older girl's hands in his. "Your hands are so warm, Miss. I just know you must be a deeply gentle person, with a strong heart and immense courage. Let me guess—Gryffindor?"
The busty upperclassman nodded eagerly.
"I humbly accept your letter. Thank you, truly," Tom continued smoothly. "This is the first time I've ever received a love letter, and to get one from such a beautiful upperclassman... I'm honestly thrilled."
The girl's face lit up with absolute joy—until she caught the "but" hanging at the end of Tom's sentence.
"But," Tom said softly, "you need to make sure you truly understand your own feelings first."
"My... feelings?" The upperclassman looked at him, completely confused.
Tom's lips curled into a faint, self-deprecating smile. "You're just mesmerized by the version of me you saw yesterday. I was dressed up in fancy formal wear, looking the part. But in private, I'm really not that kind of guy. Actually, I'm a kid who gives a lot of the professors massive headaches."
He squeezed her hands slightly. "You should take some time to really get to know me. Take a step back and let the excitement cool off. If that day comes, and your feelings still haven't changed, I promise I will give you a proper answer."
The upperclassman fell silent, blinking rapidly.
Was that a rejection? Or an acceptance?
It didn't sound like a flat-out rejection, but it definitely wasn't a "yes" either. Was it a... half-yes?
Did Tom mean he wants me to get to know him better, and if I still like him then... we'll date?! Oh, Tom is such a gentle, perfect gentleman!
It was a very good thing Tom couldn't read her mind. Otherwise, he would have told her to go eat dirt.
---
He managed to send Busty Upperclassman #1 on her way, only for Busty Upperclassman #2 to immediately take her place.
"Mr. Riddle, can I book you in advance for next year's Christmas ball? I want to be your partner!"
Bro, seriously?! Tom thought, screaming internally. Am I a piece of fresh meat or something? Why are they all swarming me?! Does everyone want a bite of me today?!
He gave her another vague, non-committal answer—basically translating the exact same script he used on Girl #1 and feeding it straight to Girl #2.
And then came Girl #3, Girl #4, Girl #5...
Finally, realizing they were going to miss their trains if they didn't leave right now, the mob of admirers dispersed.
Pockets absolutely stuffed to the brim with love letters, an exhausted Tom finally dragged himself to the door of Snape's office.
Taking off the red scarf around his neck, Tom pulled a dark green one from his bag and swapped it out. He knocked, and once the man inside barked a response, Tom stepped into the office.
"Professor Snape, happy holidays! I just wanted to ask a quick question: am I allowed to return to school early?"
Snape glared at him coldly. "You should not be bringing this to me. You should be submitting a request to Albus, or perhaps your Head of House, Professor Flitwick. Not me. Do you understand?"
"But Professor Snape, you're my absolute favorite professor."
Tom said it from the bottom of his heart. Though, the sentiment was slightly undermined by the fact that his pockets were bulging with love letters and he had Hermione's red scarf aggressively shoved into his satchel.
Snape's heart gave a violent lurch. His Occlumency shields practically cracked!
"...Let me know before you return," Snape muttered.
"Professor, I'd also like to bring Misha back with me."
"Tom, do not push your luck!" Snape exploded, pointing a long, accusing finger right at Tom's nose. "I am warning you, Tom. If you take one more inch, I will—"
Tom, having entirely anticipated this exact reaction, cut him off before he could finish.
"Professor, I really think your Potions lab could use a little assistant. For Misha, the time between now and her enrollment is essentially one long holiday. She needs to use this break to overtake the competition so she can start ahead of the pack."
Tom leaned in slightly. "In the future—no, next year—you are going to have an incredibly outstanding Slytherin student. Her name is Misha."
"Just think about it, Professor. Imagine a kid who arrives on her very first day already having mastered Potions, Herbology, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Charms... and not just the basics, but at a highly advanced level... cough cough."
Tom stopped talking. He didn't need to say another word.
Snape had already started fantasizing.
The Potions Master's eyes went slightly glassy. Who knows what grand visions were playing in his head—he was probably already picturing himself sitting in the Hogwarts Headmaster's chair.
Sigh. Professor Snape is so easy to manipulate.
Tom went in for the final kill. "Professor, thank you for the Christmas present. It's incredibly warm. It's really wonderful having you this winter."
Wait, haven't I said that somewhere before? Tom thought. Why did it roll off the tongue so naturally? Whatever.
Right on cue, Snape waved him off dismissively, trying to hide his reaction. "Get out. Contact me when you return. Until then, I do not want to see you. Not even a glimpse!"
---
Hogwarts' winter break typically started at Christmas and ran through New Year's, lasting exactly two weeks.
But this year was an exception. Due to some special school arrangement, the break was extended to a full four weeks. An entire month.
That was perfect. Tom already had a comprehensive master plan. He just needed to execute it!
After saying goodbye to Snape and leaving the dungeons, Tom headed up to Dumbledore's office. Along the way, he swapped his scarf again.
Blah, blah, blah... "Professor Dumbledore, thank you for the Christmas present. It's incredibly warm. It's really wonderful having you this winter."
The deja vu was getting stronger. Tom felt like he had delivered this exact line three times today.
Leaving Dumbledore's office, Tom made his way to the greenhouses. This time, he took his scarf off entirely and didn't put a new one on.
Why? Because Professor Sprout hadn't given him a Christmas present yet. He was here to collect.
The warm, enthusiastic Professor Sprout saw Tom and reacted like he was her own flesh and blood, pulling him into a tight hug and planting a kiss on his cheek.
"My boy, I saw your performance yesterday! It was perfect. Just absolutely perfect."
"Thank you for the compliment, Professor," Tom smiled sweetly. "Is there anything you need help with? I'm leaving school soon, so I wanted to come give you a hand. You've got a bad back, and I don't want you overworking yourself."
What a sweet, obedient boy! Sprout thought, her heart melting. That bastard Severus actually talks down to such a good kid. I ought to take him home and adopt him myself!
Professor Sprout silently cursed Severus Snape's entire bloodline.
"Oh, I don't need any help, dear. The greenhouse is all sorted," she beamed. "I'm just so happy you came to see me! All I have left to do is take down the stocking hanging on the wall— Oh?"
Professor Sprout's smile froze.
Hanging a stocking in the greenhouse was a little tradition she kept every Christmas, just for the festive spirit. She never expected anything to be in it.
But today—no, this year—was different! Why did the stocking feel so heavy?
Santa Claus had visited! Professor Sprout suddenly looked down at the adorable, handsome little Santa Claus standing right in front of her.