Tom Riddle, the son of the Dark Lord, has always been burdened by the weight of his lineage, destined to follow in his father's footsteps as the heir to a reign of terror. Yet, in Rosie Hart, he found a glimmer of hope-a love that made him dream of...
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DAYS HAD PASSED BY SINCE ROSIE'S BIRTHDAY.
Although she kept the letter she received that day to herself, her mood had gradually lifted. The initial melancholy that clouded her celebrations slowly dissipated, replaced by a renewed energy as she returned to her routine - spending time with Tom, whom upon noticing her change in demeanour, had suggested they spend the day together to properly celebrate her seventeenth birthday.
They day of their date had been perfect. Tom had gone out of his way to make Rosie feel special, leading her through a series of activities that seemed designed to remind her how much he cared. From a quiet stroll through the Forbidden Forest — where they found a secluded spot to talk and laugh — to a private dinner in Hogsmeade at Madam Puddifoot's, Tom ensured that Rosie felt cherished. By the time the day ended, Rosie's spirits were entirely lifted and she had found herself falling more and more for Tom, but she was still finding herself scared to admit her feelings to him, but tonight she was enjoying spending time with him in the Slytherin common room.
The Slytherin common room was quiet, save for the soft crackling of the fire that flickered in the large, ornate fireplace. Shadows danced along the walls, casting a warm, golden glow over the dark green and silver decor. The heavy velvet drapes were drawn, shutting out the cold from the Black Lake that loomed outside the dungeon windows. Most students had retreated to their dormitories for the night, leaving only a few lingering by the fire.
Tom sat on his usual couch, his legs stretched out comfortably before him, one hand resting casually on the armrest while the other held a book. He wasn't reading, though. His gaze was distant, lost in thought as the firelight reflected in his dark eyes. Rosie was curled up on the couch beside him, her head resting on his lap, her feet tucked beneath her, a blanket draped over her lap. She had been reading too, but the story hadn't managed to hold her attention. Instead, her thoughts drifted to the boy sitting next to her.
For a while, neither spoke, content to simply be in each other's company. The silence between them was comfortable, filled with the quiet intimacy of two people who had grown used to one another's presence. Rosie eventually closed her book, resting it on her lap as she glanced over at Tom. His birthday was coming soon, and though he rarely talked about it, she knew it was on his mind.
