Two weeks earlier, the Slytherin common room had been transformed into a battlefield of festive chaos. Tinsel hung haphazardly from the stone walls, someone had charmed the fire to burn green and silver, and a half-empty box of mince pies sat abandoned on the table. The annual Secret Santa draw was in full swing.

Draco was orchestrating the whole affair with the solemnity of a general commanding troops, which mostly meant bossing everyone around and pretending he wasn't just as curious as the rest of them.

One by one, everyone reached into the bag and pulled out a folded slip of parchment. There were gasps, groans, and at least one muttered Italian curse from Theo.

Then it was Y/n's turn.

Her fingers closed around a slip, and she unfolded it slowly, her heart doing that stupid little hopeful skip that always happened right before you found out whether the universe had been kind or was about to hand you an impossible challenge.

Tom Riddle.

Of course it was Tom Riddle.

The one person in the entire school who probably wouldn't even want a gift. The one person who could make a lump of coal look like a thoughtful present by comparison. The one person whose idea of a good time was probably reading ancient, terrifying books and winning arguments.

Across the room, Tom sat in his usual armchair, one leg crossed over the other, a book open in his lap, completely oblivious to the fact that he had just become someone's personal Christmas nightmare.

And now, two weeks later, on Christmas Eve, Y/n was still empty-handed.

The common room had been decorated within an inch of its life. There was a massive tree in the corner, presents already beginning to pile up beneath it. Everyone had gathered for the exchange, laughing and arguing about who had bought what. The air smelled like cinnamon and hot chocolate, and somewhere in the distance, someone had started playing Christmas music.

And Y/n? Y/n had nothing. Nada. Zip.

Two weeks of racking her brain, and she'd come up with exactly zero ideas for what to get Tom Riddle. The man had no hobbies, no interests, no wants. He was impossible. Utterly, maddeningly impossible.

But as she stood there, watching everyone else laugh and exchange gifts, a completely insane idea started to form in the back of her mind.

If Tom Riddle wanted a gift so desperately impossible to find, then she'd simply have to give him the one thing he never knew he wanted.

Herself.