Chapter Text
Riddle Rosehearts did not make impulsive decisions.
Every rule in the Queen of Hearts’ rulebook existed for a reason. Every additional dorm regulation he enforced had been debated internally, cross-referenced, and justified. Structure was safety. Order was survival. That was simply how things were.
Which was why the new line of text at the bottom of the dorm notice board felt like a personal betrayal.
Ace squinted at it, leaning far too close to the parchment. “Rule eight-Evelen… ‘Floyd Leech is permitted entry to Heartslabyul after curfew hours.’”
Deuce blinked. Then blinked again. “W-Wait, Floyd? As in…Floyd Leech..?
Ace slowly turned toward Riddle. “Housewarden. I am begging you. Explain. Slowly. Preferably with diagrams.”
Riddle adjusted his gloves, posture stiff, expression perfectly neutral. “It is a practical amendment.”
Deuce frowned. “Practical how? He scares people!”
“I’m scared, but in, like, a chronic way.” Ace added thoughtfully.
“Floyd Leech has demonstrated a pattern of appearing regardless of existing restrictions,” Riddle said sharply. “This rule allows his presence to be regulated.”
Ace stared. “You regulated him by letting him in.”
“Yes.”
“That’s not regulation. That’s inviting a shark into the koi pond.”
Cater leaned over Deuce’s shoulder, phone already out. “Hold up, hold up. New rule drop? About an Octavinelle boy? This is content.”
Riddle’s ears burned. “This discussion is concluded.”
Cater snapped a photo of the rule. “Too late, Riddle-chan. The group chat’s gonna eat this alive.”
Riddle turned on his heel and left before Ace could say anything else, pulse irritatingly loud in his ears.
That evening, the moment he stepped into the hallway, he knew.
There was a presence there. A familiar, looming, obnoxiously cheerful presence.
“Gooood evenin’, Goldfishie!!”
Riddle jolted. “Floyd Leech! Announce yourself!”
Floyd was sprawled against the wall, upside down, arms folded behind his head, grin sharp and bright. “I did! You were just thinkin’ too loud!”
“That is not- why are you inverted?!”
“Better blood flow!” Floyd flipped upright in one smooth motion, boots hitting the floor with a soft thud. “Also Jade said you made me official!”
Riddle stiffened. “You are obstructing the corridor.”
Floyd slid aside dramatically, bowing. “Your Highness.”
“…Do not mock the rules.”
“I’m not!” Floyd chirped. “I’m followin’ them! See? Walkin’. Not breakin’ stuff. No screammin’ Heartslabyul kids!”
Riddle narrowed his eyes. “You are enjoying this far too much.”
“Obviously!” Floyd leaned in, eyes glittering. “You wrote my name. In ink. That’s like… romantic, right?”
“That is not-!” Riddle cut himself off, cheeks heating. “How did you even learn about the rule so quickly?”
Floyd tapped his temple. “Jade reads. I skim. Ace screams. News travels!”
They walked together, and to Riddle’s mounting discomfort, Floyd actually behaved. No grabbing roses. No slamming doors. No lurking behind corners to startle people.
When they reached Riddle’s office, Floyd stopped short, rocking on his heels.
“Ooo, do I get to go in too?” he asked, sing-song. “Or is this a ‘hallway only’ kinda deal?”
Riddle hesitated. The rule did not specify private rooms. This was a mistake. A terrible, glaring loophole.
“…You may enter,” he said anyway.
Floyd’s grin widened instantly. “Hehehe. Jackpot!”
Inside, Floyd spun once, arms out. “Wow! It’s so neat! Everything’s in straight lines. Even the air feels bossy!”
“It is organized,” Riddle snapped.
“Same thing,” Floyd said cheerfully. “Smells like tea and overwork!”
“I do not overwork.”
“Uh-huh.”
The silence that followed was unfamiliar. Not awkward exactly. Just… quiet.
Floyd broke it first. “You didn’t hafta do that, y’know!”
Riddle frowned. “Do what.”
“Make me official,” Floyd said, suddenly less loud but no less bright. “You usually just yell and kick me out.”
“This was not done for your benefit,” Riddle said, too quickly. “It was inefficient to pretend you would not come.”
Floyd hummed. “Still. You used my name.”
Riddle looked away. “…Rules must reflect reality.”
Floyd stepped closer, stopping just short of Riddle’s space, eyes gleaming with something warm and mischievous. “Then I’ll be real good. Promise!”
Riddle swallowed. His chest felt tight in a way no rule addressed.
“…You may stay for tea,” he said quietly. “Briefly.”
Floyd gasped dramatically. “Goldfishie. That’s my favorite rule EVER!!”
And for the first time, Riddle wondered if some rules were not meant to restrain chaos.
Some were meant to let it splash around safely.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Riddle moved on autopilot.
Kettle. Cups. Tea leaves measured precisely, hands steady despite the way his pulse kept misbehaving. This was familiar territory. Tea followed rules. Tea did not grin at him like it knew secrets.
Behind him, Floyd did not sit.
He leaned. He crouched. He circled the room once, peering into drawers he was absolutely not allowed to open.
“Don’t touch anything,” Riddle said sharply.
“I’m not!” Floyd replied instantly, hands clasped behind his back. “I’m just lookin’! With my eyes!”
“You are hovering.”
“That’s my natural state!”
Riddle set the kettle down harder than necessary. “Sit. Properly.”
Floyd froze. Then, very deliberately, he dragged a chair out and flopped into it, legs splayed, chin propped on his hands.
“Like this?” he asked sweetly.
“No.”
Floyd straightened, feet flat on the floor, hands folded in his lap with exaggerated care. “Like this?”
“…Acceptable.”
“Hehehe,” Floyd whispered, vibrating with suppressed laughter.
Riddle poured the tea, focusing on the steam instead of the fact that Floyd was actually, miraculously, staying seated. He turned and placed a cup in front of him.
“Do not drink until it cools,” Riddle instructed.
Floyd nodded solemnly. Then immediately leaned down and blew across the surface. “Coolin’ it!”
“That is not-!” Riddle stopped himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Just don’t burn yourself.”
“Ooo, concern!” Floyd teased. “That’s new!”
“It is basic decency!”
“Sure it is, Goldfishie!”
They drank in silence for a few moments. Real silence. Not the tense kind that begged to be filled, but the rare sort that settled gently.
Floyd broke it anyway.
“So,” he said, slurping loudly on purpose. “You really gonna let me come whenever?”
Riddle stiffened. “The rule states after curfew. Not ‘whenever.’”
“Mmm. Still.” Floyd tilted his head. “You trust me not to wreck stuff?”
Riddle hesitated. The honest answer lodged uncomfortably in his throat.
“…I trust that you are capable of restraint,” he said at last. “When you choose to be.”
Floyd blinked.
Once. Twice.
Then he grinned so wide it almost hurt to look at. “Wow. That’s like… the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me!”
“That is deeply concerning,” Riddle muttered.
Floyd leaned back in his chair, balancing on two legs. “Most people just tell me to leave or stop or die quietly somewhere else.”
“That is unacceptable phrasing,” Riddle snapped.
“See?” Floyd tipped forward again, eyes bright. “You care!”
Riddle opened his mouth, then closed it. His cheeks were warm. Annoyingly so.
A knock echoed down the hallway.
Both of them froze.
“That better not be Ace,” Riddle hissed.
The door creaked open without waiting for permission.
“Riddleee,” Cater sang. “Please tell me Floyd is actually in there because the vibes are wild tonight.”
Deuce peeked around him, eyes wide. “We heard yelling! And then… laughing?”
Floyd waved enthusiastically. “Hiiii!! I’m bein’ good!!”
Deuce yelped. “He’s in the office?!”
“This is temporary,” Riddle said immediately. “And controlled.”
Cater leaned in, snapping a photo of Floyd holding a teacup like a menace. “This is going in the vault. Or my grave.”
“Out,” Riddle ordered. “Both of you.”
Deuce scrambled back. “Yes, Housewarden!”
Cater saluted. “You’re doing great, bestie.”
The door shut.
Riddle exhaled slowly.
Floyd laughed, loud and unrestrained. “Wow! You didn’t even explode!”
“Do not encourage them,” Riddle said, though his voice lacked its usual bite.
Floyd studied him then. Really studied him. The way Riddle’s shoulders were still tense. The way his fingers hovered near the teacup, precise and careful.
“You’re nervous,” Floyd said.
“I am not.”
“You are,” Floyd insisted, leaning forward. “But not mad-nervous. It’s the other one.”
Riddle frowned. “The other one?”
“The ‘what if this goes wrong but I want it anyway’ one!”
Riddle’s breath caught. Just slightly. Enough.
“…Rules exist to prevent harm,” he said quietly.
“Yeah,” Floyd replied, just as soft. “But sometimes they’re there so stuff doesn’t break when you try new things!”
Riddle looked at him. Really looked.
Floyd Leech, sitting in his chair, following rules he technically hated, holding teacups like they mattered.
“You may come again tomorrow,” Riddle said before he could reconsider. “At the same time.”
Floyd froze.
Then he slammed both hands on the desk. “YES!!”
“Quiet!” Riddle snapped, but there was no heat in it.
Floyd beamed, tail practically wagging. “I’ll be perfect! I’ll knock! I’ll sit! I won’t scare the first-years unless they deserve it!”
“They will not deserve it.”
“Debatable!”
Riddle sighed, but this time it felt lighter.
As Floyd stood to leave, he paused at the door, glancing back.
“Hey, Goldfishie?”
“Yes.”
“…Thanks for lettin’ me in.”
Riddle straightened. “It is simply a rule.”
Floyd smiled. “Best one yet!”
And when the door closed, Riddle found that the room did not feel empty.
It felt… settled.
Like something had finally been placed where it belonged.