Romans & histoires Professor Tom Riddle

She lets the question hanging in the air, her eyes glancing towards our professor. My breath catches. “That Mr. Madden is the father of Maddy’s child?” The possibility hangs between us, thick and dangerous. Slowly, we both turn to look. Liam is finishing off his wine, laughing too loudly at something one of his friends says, like he’s trying to drown everything else out. Tom sits across the room, sipping his tequila with a sour expression, his gaze still drifting back to me in a way I pointedly ignore. And Mr. Madden—

A man soon approached, smiling as he greeted the Alpha and glancing at me with curiosity. “Maya, meet Professor Talisman, my friend and the head of Shifting at the college,” the Alpha introduced us. Professor Talisman extended his hand, which I shook. “Nice to meet you,” I said politely. From the corner of my eye, I noticed the Alpha clenching his jaw, but he stayed composed. I wondered why. “Likewise,” Professor Talisman said, “I’ve heard of your work with Regina, and I’m intrigued. I’d love to invite you to the college headquarters sometime.”

ISABELLA'S POV I could still hear the loud breathing of my colleagues; they appeared to be louder now than normal. Judge Jonathan was slipping away from us, and we were running out of options, out of time. I dimmed my eyes, remembering the words of my favorite professor in my third year, Professor Raghav. He was Indian. He always had a way of seeing beyond the immediate problem—a way of finding the thread that connected everything. As I struggled to keep my composure, one of his popular quotes during our ward rounds hit me with a force triggering the light of insight.

She mourned him for so long that time has polished him perfectly in her memory again. He might be back, but her Draco is forever gone. The lab door tilts open but instead of professor McCall, it’s his assistant, Linda, who steps in, her black leather skirt clinging to her deviously and above it a white inner top and a black jacket. “Class is cancelled for today and Raven, the professor, wants to see you in his private lab immediately,” she says in an air of finiteness and walks back out of the lab. Raven frowns, ignoring the groans and murmurs of some of her classmates. It’s not the first time the professor has cancelled his lectures to spend time alone with her in his private lab but today

He reached over and grabbed the stack of papers. Her heart skipped a beat and she got a good whiff of his cologne. The both of them stared at each other, a form of heat expanding around them. It wasn't until the door opened that professor Thompson finally pulled away. "Well, Ms.Moore, thank you for lending a hand. I will see you next class and hopefully you're early next time." The man held out his hand and glanced at the person that stepped in. It's Mrs.Laime, she's a Spanish professor. "Oi dios mio. I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone was inside." She chuckles nervously.

On the other side of the door, Selly clamped her own hand over her mouth, desperate to swallow every moan. She hadn’t expected Professor Alex Harrington to summon her the second class ended, let alone demand she satisfy his forbidden hunger right here on campus. The lecturer’s office was dead quiet, the kind of silence that amplifies every heartbeat. Selly’s breath came in ragged gasps. Professor Alex Harrington—late fifties, still built like a linebacker, with a stare that made the girls whisper—loomed over her, a smug curve on his lips. His white shirt hung open at the collar, sweat glistening across the hard planes of his chest.

So far, they had been polite and considerate, and he could sense sincerity in their actions. “I am Professor Jackson. Next to me are Professors Talia and Janet.” Both professors bowed slightly to extend their respect to the Supreme once they were introduced, and Mane returned their bows eagerly. “We cannot lose the Supreme to them,” Professor Stern informed Professor Stanley and Dean Desmond silently. While he spoke softly, Mane heard him, and Abelard’s wide smile showed that he heard him as well. The two shared sly looks as though they could read each other’s minds, and Hildegarde could only sigh in pity and say,

“I already told you.” “Fuck, man! I wish I had it, too,” Ben says. “Who else has it? Mariah Carey? Mozart?” Lora’s chin rests on her palm. “But isn’t the professor amazing? He figured it out after only listening to you once. How does he do it?” “Because he has it too,” Kristoff says proudly. A gleam in his eyes expresses his admiration for the professor. “Really?” I say breathlessly. He nods. “You can ask him about it later.”

“Prof. Milford is coming. Act natural.” I followed his gaze and nearly fell off my chair. Professor August Milford, one of the killer professors in Columbia, walked up the stairs and stopped by our table. I did not have to look around to realize that all eyes were deadset on us. It may have only been a week for me to breathe and live like a college student, but even I knew that the professor usually only wandered about at the podium, at the front of the classroom.

1 Jennifer *Bell Rang* "Alright, students, the class is over. I hope you have understood today's topic. If any of you have questions, feel free to ask till I'm here. Once I'm out, you will not be able to reach me easily," Professor Richard stated, pausing for a while to detect any raised hand but finding none, as if no one had attended the lecture. I doubted if anyone was interested in today's topic of common drawbacks of criminals' mentality. Although it was an interesting topic for me and I could discuss it for hours, I didn't feel like having any questions for him, nor any energy to speak.