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The carefully manicured lawn of Heartslabyul's Croquet Tournament Court glistened in the late afternoon sun. Gentle rays of light slipped through holes in the thick cloud cover overhead. The rosebush leaves and newly formed buds glistened with the dew of a recent rain shower. The blades of grass beneath your heels sparkled, as much a beautiful sight as a warning to be careful, lest you accidentally slip and fall.
Your hedgehog snuffled, impatiently awaiting its turn, still dutifully curled into a ball. Trey’s hedgehog sat just a few inches away from yours, peacefully resting, having seemingly forgotten that it was in lying in the middle of a croquet warzone.
The fall afternoon air was refreshing, the temperature a pleasant median between the fading summertime heat and the approaching winter cold. Despite the earlier rain, Riddle declared that it was the perfect weather to host a small, impromptu, cutthroat* croquet tournament. Although your original plan was to hang out with Deuce and Ace, Riddle easily convinced you to join his game of croquet so as not to interrupt them during their weekend studies (no other reason).
The game was coming to a quick close - with Riddle so many points ahead, you'd given up on keeping track of your score. You had long since acknowledged the vast difference in yours and Riddle's croquet abilities, but you still enjoyed playing.
Riddle’s hedgehog squeaked as his red flamingo mallet made contact, sending the small creature hurtling through the last wicket. You and Trey clapped while Cater let out a long sigh. The housewarden’s hedgehog leaped to its feet and swiftly scurried over to sit beside him. For a hedgehog, he looked rather regal, save for the tufts of wet grass stuck to his spikes.
“No surprise there.” Trey chuckled. Cater shrugged. “T-B-H croquet is a losing battle with a pro like him. I’m pretty sure Riddle has only lost like, one game of croquet ever.”
“I am Housewarden after all.” Riddle swung his flamingo over his shoulder with a flourish, a small smile on his face. “To lose a game of croquet would be a disgrace to the Queen herself.”
"It's still impressive." You chimed in. "Given how hard it is to angle and hit a hedgehog. You manage to make it look effortless." You glimpsed the slightest blush creep across Riddle's face as his grey eyes shifted to avoid your gaze. Riddle cleared his throat, straightening himself.
“Now, the game’s not over yet.” Riddle gestured towards you and Trey. “Second place still has yet to be decided!”
Trey and Cater briefly shared a look, but you struggled to identify its meaning. Brushing it off, you brandished your purple flamingo (which blinked at you, an unsavory reminder that your mallet was ‘alive’) and strode over to your hedgehog, who now bristled with newfound enthusiasm.
Aiming for the wicket, you swung your flamingo and gently bonked the hedgehog, sending it flying (no doubt the work of your hedgehog's efforts to secure your victory) through the tiny metal arch. Trey and Cater took their turns, both hedgehogs missing the wicket.
You and your hedgehog eyed the last wicket. With one final well-aimed bunt, your hedgehog launched forward, tumbling right between the metal posts, victorious or, at the very least, better than Trey or Cater (although you had a looming suspicion that they purposefully missed their last shots).
"You have certainly honed your skills since the last time we played, Prefect." Riddle nodded, clapping alongside Trey and Cater.
The rest of the game passed in a blur; Trey beat Cater for third place and Cater momentarily sulked as he snapped some pictures of the picturesque garden for Magicam. Some students arrived to escort the flamingos and hedgehogs back to their respective habitats (as to where those are, you have no idea). You glanced at the time on your phone: 3:20. You only had 40 minutes left to shower and get ready before your server shift at the Mostro Lounge.
"Bye guys! I'll see you later, I need to get ready for my server shift." You grabbed your bag from the bench. "Thanks again for inviting me, Riddle!"
"Of course, it was my pleasure." Riddle bid you farewell. Cater waved, phone in hand. "See you tomorrow~".
As you turned to leave, Trey jogged over to you, an apologetic look on his face.
"Prefect, I should warn you that there's a dorm rule for second place winners in croquet tournaments. You have to serve Riddle tea the next day." The vice-housewarden placed a hand on your shoulder. "Otherwise, it'll be, you know..." Trey trailed off.
"Right - 'off with your head'." You made a mental note to ask Jade for some loose-leaf tea. "Thanks for the heads up."
You assumed the conversation was over, but he bit his lip as if he was mentally considering saying something else.
"Trey, is something bothering you?" Trey shook his head, releasing a nervous laugh.
"It's nothing. I just wanted to let you know he likes sweet things." Trey paused, a curious glint in his eyes as he regarded you. "Like honey."
You found Riddle studying in the common room, engrossed in a book as he wrote notes in that neat cursive of his, face bathed in the warm glow of a lamp. The lounge was surprisingly quiet, save for the rhythmic ticking of the many clocks that lined Heartslabyul's walls. Daylight was fading fast.
During your shift, you managed to convince Jade to spare you some high-quality chamomile tea (Rule 53: the only tea you may drink in the evenings is herbal tea) in return for an extra hour of work. Trey graciously offered you his teapot and tea set, as you lacked your own, and gave you some honey from the Heartslabyul kitchen.
So far, so good.
Hesitant to disturb him, you cleared your throat. Riddle's gaze lifted from his textbook. Dark bags sat beneath his grey eyes. Stress lined his features, his gaze dark with the burden of weary acceptance. Riddle's shoulders were stiff, as if he was fighting the urge to slump, to collapse beneath the omnipresent, suffocating weight of perfection he carried so proudly. A wave of familiar sadness washed over you.
Most likely, Crowley assigned Riddle another tedious task, some arduous project that the headmaster couldn't be bothered to trouble himself with.
It wasn't fair, but then again, it seemed like nothing in Riddle's life was.
"I brought you some herbal tea," You walked carefully towards him, gently setting the tea tray on the edge of the table, away from the stacks of notes and textbooks that seemed to tower over Riddle. Riddle looked up but his grey pupils seemed to look right through you, his mind still focused on the papers neatly stacked before him. His pupils were uncharacteristically hazy, as if you had just yanked him from the depths of a deep sleep.
"And honey." You added awkwardly, gesturing towards the small pot of honey on the tea tray. Riddle's lifeless expression vanished, replaced by a look you could only describe as bewilderment.
Riddle's mouth was agape in horror, lips upturned in shock, his eyes wide. In the past, you'd seen Riddle furious, embarrassed, irritated, delighted, but never this.
It seemed counterintuitive, even absurd, to feel relieved that he was angry with you. But anything, even rage, is better than seeing Riddle in that state.
"H-honey?" A dumbfounded Riddle stared at you, his voice cracking. His strained voice dragged you back to the present.
You hurriedly looked at the tea tray to see if something was missing or cracked.
Is chamomile not herbal? Did Trey or Jade set you up? Did you get the rules wrong?
Everything looked perfectly normal, no chips, no spills. The tea was steaming, the honey looked appetizing.
"Is honey not okay?" This time your voice cracked. Somehow, this just made Riddle even more flustered, his cheeks blushing a fiery red. You were at a complete loss.
"Are you allergic to it? Trey said you liked honey in your tea!" You gestured desperately at the tea tray. "Am I breaking some rule I don't even know exists?"
"No honey past 6 pm? Honey is banned in the common room on weekdays? Honey must be served in a cup by a dormouse?" You were rambling now, but you couldn't help it.
A look of realization suddenly dawned on Riddle's face, and he shifted to regard the honey sitting on the tea tray.
"Ah, yes. Honey. The sweet." Riddle spoke definitively, as if he was carefully choosing each word. His eyes remained transfixed on the sweetener.
"Uh, yeah, honey." Expecting some form of clarification, you looked at Riddle. Riddle looked at you. He said nothing, instead opting to snap his head in the opposite direction of you completely avoiding your gaze. The seconds dragged on. The bright pink blush on Riddle's cheeks wasn't going away - in fact, it only seemed to be getting worse with each passing second of silence. Oh. Ohhhh.
"Did you think I called you 'honey'?" You intended to phrase the question delicately, but you ended up blurting it out.
"OF COURSE NOT!" Riddle shouted, whipping around, his tone heavy with indignance. Realizing how loud he was, Riddle attempted to lower his voice, although you could hardly tell the difference.
"I was merely surprised that a non-Heartslabyul student such as yourself was aware of Rule 703!" Riddle audibly huffed.
You fought the urge to smile, but your lips involuntarily tugged upward, despite your protests. The only response you could offer without laughing was a noncommittal "Mm-hm."
"ExcUSE ME?" Riddle exclaimed, although you could tell by his tone that he wasn't angry. Just hopelessly embarrassed.
"I mean, yeah, that makes sense." Your factitious words (bordering on a giggle) did not appease Riddle, who just narrowed his eyes.
"I'm sorry Riddle, but you've got to admit it is kind of funny."
"I can assure you it is NOT." Riddle paused, "This is no laughing matter, Prefect." You couldn't hold it in anymore; you broke out into laughter. Your desperate efforts not to laugh only seemed to make the urge to laugh worse.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." You managed to apologize between giggles.
As you fought to control your laughter, Riddle's grumbles went unheard.
"I would have much preferred you to say such a thing under different circumstances." Riddle muttered the words under his breath without even realizing he said them.
No matter, it's not as if they can hear them.
Regaining your composure, you sat down beside Riddle, who shifted to make room for you on the couch.
"Do you like chamomile tea?" You inquired.
"I do." Riddle moved the tea tray closer to him. "Your accordance with the house rules is appreciated, Prefect." His formality sounded forced, as it did when Riddle was trying to compose himself.
"Honestly," You leaned back into the couch as Riddle poured some tea into the teacup. "I'm just happy to visit you." Your own candidness caught you off guard. "And do at least something to make your life a bit easier."
Riddle's grip on the spoon tightened as he stirred the honey into the tea.
"I can always help you with whatever Crowley assigned you." You watched as Riddle delicately raised the teacup to his lips, slender fingers wrapping around the handle.
"Just don't-" you paused, weighing your words, considering what to say. Don't overwork yourself. Don't take on too much. Don't forget to ask for help.
"Thank you, Prefect." Riddle took a sip of the tea, a gentle smile appearing on his face, finishing your sentence for you.
Perhaps your thoughts were too loud and he heard them.
You bathed in the silence between you and him, embracing the company of another person on a cool fall evening.
"You are a strange one." Riddle voice was soft, as if he was speaking to himself rather than you. "The others fear me, but you aren't fazed in the least."
"Strange?" You tried to sound shocked, offended. Riddle's grey irises met yours and he let out a soft chuckle.
"Not that I'm rebuking you for it, mind you."