Chapter Text
Valentine’s Day at Hogwarts was, in Tom Riddle’s opinion, a travesty.
He said this every year.
He said it loudly.
He said it to exactly one person: Harry Evans, his best friend, the only person on earth who tolerated Tom’s annual meltdown.
“This is barbaric,” Tom announced as he stormed into the Slytherin common room, dumping an entire armful of pink-and-red envelopes on the couch beside Harry.
Harry looked up from his book. “I take it the Hallway Ambush has started.”
“Started?” Tom snarled. “It’s relentless. I cannot turn a corner without someone throwing glitter at me.” He held up his sleeve, disgusted. “This sparkles.”
Harry bit back a smile. “You are very popular.”
“I am cursed.”
A second avalanche of gifts—chocolates, enchanted roses, a small stuffed dragon—thudded onto the table. Harry blinked.
“Tom, that’s… a lot.”
“It’s excessive,” Tom corrected, kicking a box so hard it squeaked out a recorded love poem. “Obnoxiously pink, aggressively scented, and half of these chocolates might as well be bubbling cauldrons for all the potions they contain.”
Harry grimaced. “Did someone try the love potion thing again?”
“Fourth year,” Tom hissed. “Ravenclaw girl. I hexed the box into confetti.”
He collapsed beside Harry, rubbing the bridge of his nose like the world’s saddest, most handsome drama queen.
“I hate Valentine’s Day,” Tom declared.
Harry smiled softly. “I know you do.”