𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒, ᵗᵒᵐ ʳⁱᵈᵈˡᵉ. ✓

024.

___

The soft, golden light of the late afternoon sun filtered through the grand windows of the Hogwarts courtyard, casting long shadows across the cobbled stones. Students milled about in small groups, chatting and laughing, taking advantage of the break between classes. Daphne Greengrass sat on a low stone bench, her green and silver Slytherin scarf draped loosely around her neck. She was reading quietly, her calm expression unbothered by the lively energy around her. Her long, blonde hair fell over one shoulder, catching the light as she absentmindedly twirled a strand between her fingers.

___

Nearby, leaning against the archway that led back into the castle, Tom Riddle stood with a group of his usual Slytherin followers. His arms were crossed, and his sharp, dark eyes scanned the courtyard with cold precision. He looked composed, as always, but there was an unusual tension in his stance today. Every so often, his gaze flickered toward Daphne.

___

Tom had always admired Daphne's quiet intelligence and the grace with which she navigated the often tumultuous world of Hogwarts. She was one of the few people whose presence didn't irritate him, and she was perhaps the only one whose opinions he valued. They shared a mutual respect, but lately, Tom had found himself watching her more often, feeling something stir within him that he couldn't quite identify. It wasn't just respect. It wasn't just admiration.

___

And today, something was different. A boy—blond-haired, smiling far too much—had made his way over to Daphne's bench and was standing much too close for Tom's liking. "Hey, Daphne," the boy—Matthew Vaisey, a Beater on the Slytherin Quidditch team—said with a charming grin. "You're looking particularly stunning today. Did you do something different with your hair?" Daphne looked up from her book, startled at first, then offered a polite smile. "No, it's the same as usual, Matthew." Tom's jaw clenched. Matthew took a seat beside her, leaning in ever so slightly. "You know, I was thinking... maybe after dinner tonight, we could take a walk by the lake? The stars are supposed to be clear tonight. Perfect weather for... getting to know each other better."

___

Tom's fingers tightened around his wand, which was concealed beneath his robes. He could feel his pulse quickening, an unfamiliar and unwelcome heat spreading through his chest. The conversation in his group continued, but he wasn't listening anymore. All he could hear was Matthew's smooth voice; all he could see was the way the boy leaned too close to Daphne, and all he could feel was a gnawing, burning sensation that he hated. Daphne, ever gracious, tried to let Matthew down gently. "That's kind of you, but I have a lot of work to catch up on tonight. Maybe some other time." Tom knew that tone—polite but firm. She wasn't interested. Yet Matthew didn't seem to get the hint.

___

"Come on, Daphne," he persisted, flashing her that same infuriating smile. "You've got to relax sometime. Besides, I could help you with your work. I'm sure we'd make a great team." Tom had heard enough. With a smooth, deliberate motion, he pushed off the wall and began to make his way toward them, his expression betraying none of the roiling emotions beneath his calm exterior. His footsteps echoed slightly in the courtyard, catching Daphne's attention first. Her eyes flicked up, meeting Tom's, and in that moment, something unspoken passed between them. He saw the faint flicker of relief in her gaze, though she quickly masked it with her usual calm.

___

"Vaisey," Tom's voice cut through the air like a blade, cold and sharp. He approached with the grace of a predator, every movement controlled yet carrying an unmistakable menace. Matthew looked up, his confident demeanor faltering for a split second when he realized who was standing in front of him. "Riddle," he greeted, trying to maintain his casual tone. "What's going on?" Tom's gaze didn't leave Daphne's. "I think Daphne has more important things to do than entertain your... distractions." The implication was clear, and Matthew bristled, his bravado returning in full force. "I was just offering her some company. There's no harm in that."

___

Tom's lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. "Is that what you think?" His tone was low, dangerous. "I suggest you find someone else to pester. Daphne doesn't need your company." Matthew, trying to save face, stood up and squared his shoulders, though he was uncomfortable under Tom's cold stare. "Right," he muttered. "If that's how it is, then." He cast one last glance at Daphne, then turned and walked away, his steps brisk and tense. As soon as he was out of sight, Tom's attention shifted fully to Daphne. She stood as well, slipping her book into her bag and watching him with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

___

"Was that necessary?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Tom gave her a look that was difficult to decipher. "You didn't seem too thrilled with his advances." She smiled, a little warmth breaking through her composed demeanor. "I could have handled it." "I know you could have," he replied, his voice quieter now, though the edge hadn't completely left. "But he wasn't getting the point." For a moment, they stood in silence, the tension from earlier slowly dissipating. Daphne's eyes softened as she regarded him, her head tilting slightly as if she were trying to figure out something she couldn't quite put into words. "Thank you, though," she said finally. "For stepping in."

___

Tom nodded, though he didn't respond immediately. Instead, he studied her, the way the afternoon sunlight danced in her hair, the way her expression was open and unguarded around him. That unfamiliar feeling from earlier stirred again, more intense this time, and for a brief second, Tom allowed himself to acknowledge it. Jealousy. It was a foreign sensation, one he wasn't used to feeling and one he wasn't entirely sure how to control. "I don't like seeing people waste your time," he said eventually, his voice even though the words held more weight than he intended.

___

Daphne's eyes sparkled with a mix of understanding and something else—something that made Tom's pulse quicken. "Maybe it wasn't my time he was wasting," she said softly. Tom's gaze sharpened, searching hers for meaning. But Daphne, ever elusive, simply smiled, turned on her heel, and started to walk away. She glanced back over her shoulder as she headed toward the castle. "Are you coming, Tom?" she asked, her voice light, as if nothing had just happened. He hesitated for a split second, then followed her, the burning jealousy that had gnawed at him moments before now replaced by something far more unsettling—a realization that Daphne Rose had a way of getting under his skin in ways no one else ever had. As they walked back into the shadowed halls of Hogwarts together, Tom couldn't shake the sense that this was only the beginning of something he couldn't quite control. Something he wasn't sure he wanted to control.

Word count: 1155