Tʜᴇ Dᴀʀᴋ Lᴏʀᴅ's Aɴɢᴇʟ | Tom Riddle √

08: A Proposal in Hogsmead

Cassiopeia Black felt a light, teasing touch brush the top of her upper lip. Turning toward Tom, she instinctively raised her hand to wipe it away. "There's something there," he insisted, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief.

She shook her head with a soft laugh, dismissing his concern. "No, it's nothing. You're being silly."

Tom's chuckle rippled through the air. "Oh, is it?" he asked, leaning in closer, his breath warm against her skin. Before she could react, he gently licked her upper lip, a playful smile spreading across his face. "Butterbeer," he remarked, his grin widening.

Cassiopeia's cheeks flamed with a mix of surprise and embarrassment. She didn't dare look around the bustling Three Broomsticks, choosing instead to meet his gaze, her heart racing. "I hope no one saw that," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the chatter around them.

Tom's response was a low chuckle as he leaned in to press his lips to hers. The world around them seemed to blur, the clinking of glasses and murmur of voices fading away as she melted into the kiss. Her fingers found the fabric of his shirt, tugging it lightly as their lips moved together in perfect sync.

When their lips finally parted, Cassiopeia couldn't help but steal a glance around the pub. She spotted other seventh-year students scattered throughout, and the sudden fear of being noticed, especially by her twin brother, filled her with dread. The thought of him catching sight of them made her stomach twist uncomfortably.

Tom, ever attuned to her, noticed her unease. His hand, warm on her lap, gave a gentle squeeze. "Don't worry about them," he said softly, his voice steady and soothing. "Just focus on me. Pretend it's just the two of us."

Her gaze shifted back to him, and she felt the tension slip away. Tom's jet-black hair, the stray curl resting against his forehead, the sharpness of his cheekbones, and those irresistible dark brown eyes—all of it held her captive. He was everything she loved, and in this moment, nothing else mattered.

A grin tugged at Tom's lips as he noticed her staring. "You're looking at me like I'm a dessert, Lestrange," he teased, his own cheeks tinged with a faint blush.

"Admiring," she corrected with a playful smile, her face flushing slightly. Even after all this time, the fact that Tom Riddle could blush still surprised her. "I still can't believe we came for a date today."

Three years. It had been three years since they'd begun this secret, intoxicating relationship, but only now did they have a proper date. Tom's hand stayed firmly on her leg as he gazed back at her, his intensity never faltering.

Cassiopeia smiled to herself, but to her, this wasn't their first date. "Honestly, Tom, every moment with you feels like a date," she mused, shrugging lightly.

He tilted his head, amusement in his eyes. "Really?" His tone was affectionate, as if he both believed and doubted her all at once.

She thought for a moment, and then nodded. "Yes, really."

His smile deepened, but there was something thoughtful behind it. "Well then, since this is officially our first date," he began, his voice taking on a more serious edge, "I want to make it special." He paused, his fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on her knee. "Tell me, Cassiopeia—what do you know about immortality?"

The question caught her off guard. She blinked, her smile faltering as her brows furrowed. "Immortality?" she repeated, confused by the sudden shift in topic. "What do you mean?"

Tom leaned closer, his eyes darkening with intrigue. "What would you do if you could live forever?" His voice was smooth, but there was something unsettling beneath the surface, something hungry.

Cassiopeia didn't hesitate in her response. "I don't like the idea," she said firmly. "Living forever means watching everyone I care about die. It's too painful."

Tom nodded thoughtfully, as though he had expected her answer, yet there was a gleam in his eyes that suggested he wasn't finished. "But what if we both had it? What if we could live forever... together?"

She shook her head, her answer still unwavering. "Even then, I'd want a normal life. Graduate, become a Potions professor at Hogwarts, have children, watch them grow up and attend the same school. I want to spend my days with my family... with my husband, in his arms."

Tom chuckled softly, propping his chin on his hand as he studied her. "I wonder if I have a place in your dreams, then."

Cassiopeia raised an eyebrow, curious. "What place would you want, Tom?"

A sly smile curled his lips. "Perhaps... the father of your children. The husband you'll be holding in your arms."

Heat crept up her cheeks at his words, and before she could respond, he leaned in, their lips meeting once more. The kiss was tender yet passionate, and Cassiopeia's heart pounded in her chest as her fingers tangled in his shirt. Their tongues danced together, the heat between them undeniable, until Tom finally pulled back, his expression suddenly more serious.

From his trouser pocket, he pulled out something small, causing Cassiopeia's breath to hitch in anticipation. A ring.

He held it out in front of her, the thick gold band glinting under the flickering candlelight. His eyes, dark and intent, bore into hers. "Cassiopeia Lestrange, will you give me the honor of being your husband after we graduate?"

Her heart skipped a beat, her wide blue eyes locked on the ring and then on him, her mind reeling. "T-Tom..." she stammered, utterly taken aback.

Tom's smile softened, his confidence never wavering. He didn't wait for her to finish her sentence. Gently, he took her left hand, sliding the ring onto her finger. "I don't need to hear your answer," he murmured, his voice low and possessive. "I already know it. You're mine—completely mine."

Cassiopeia rolled her eyes, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "You're so stubborn."

His smirk mirrored hers, his fingers still lightly brushing her hand. "Why would I need your answer when I already know it?" He leaned in, capturing her lips in another kiss, this one even deeper, more intense than the last.

As much as she wanted to lose herself in him again, Cassiopeia reluctantly pulled away, glancing nervously around the pub. "Not here," she whispered, her cheeks still flushed.

Tom followed her gaze and then tilted his head toward the staircase that led to the upper floors of the Three Broomsticks. His eyes sparkled with mischief. "Why not there?"

Her mouth fell open in disbelief. "Are you serious, Tom?"

He didn't answer with words. Instead, his hand slipped into hers, and before she could protest, he led her toward the stairs, leaving behind a wide-eyed Madam Rosmerta, who watched them disappear with a raised brow and a knowing smile.