𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒, ᵗᵒᵐ ʳⁱᵈᵈˡᵉ. ✓

035.

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The corridors of Hogwarts were quieter than usual, with most students holed up in their common rooms or the library. The echo of footsteps on stone carried through the castle's long, empty halls, and Daphne Rose found herself walking aimlessly, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of Tom Riddle.

___

Weeks had passed since their last real conversation—the one in the library where he had shut her out so coldly, calling her nothing but a "distraction." The words still stung every time she thought about them. He had cut her out of his life without any warning or explanation, leaving her with only unanswered questions and a dull ache in her chest.

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But today, something in her had snapped. She couldn't go on like this, wondering if she had imagined all the moments between them, all the shared glances, the unspoken connection she thought had been real. Maybe she was foolish, maybe he truly saw her as nothing more than a distraction, but she needed to know. She couldn't let it end like this—with silence and misunderstandings.

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Turning a corner near the empty classroom that Tom often used to study alone, Daphne stopped abruptly. There he was, standing near the window, his tall, lean frame bathed in the soft glow of the fading afternoon light. He was alone, as usual, lost in thought, his brow furrowed in concentration as he stared out at the snow-covered grounds. He hadn't noticed her yet.

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Daphne's heart thudded painfully in her chest as she approached him. She could feel the tension radiating off him even from a distance, and she hesitated for a moment, her courage faltering. But then she reminded herself why she was here, and before she could talk herself out of it, she called his name. "Tom."

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His name fell softly from her lips, but it was enough to pull him out of his reverie. He turned sharply, his dark eyes locking onto hers, and for a brief second, something flickered across his face—surprise, perhaps, or something deeper. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the cool, impassive mask he always wore.

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"Daphne," he acknowledged, his voice calm and distant. He didn't move from where he stood, simply watching her as if waiting for her to speak. Daphne took a deep breath, steeling herself against the storm of emotions swirling inside her. "I need to talk to you," she said, stepping closer, her gaze never leaving his. Tom's expression didn't change, though there was a subtle shift in his posture as if he was bracing himself. "About what?"

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"You know what," she said quietly. "About us." His jaw tightened imperceptibly, but he said nothing, waiting for her to continue. The silence stretched between them, heavy and charged with unspoken tension. Daphne could feel her pulse quickening, but she forced herself to stay calm, to say what she had come here to say.

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"You've been avoiding me," she said softly, taking another step forward. "Ever since that day in the library. You told me I was a distraction, and then you just... disappeared like none of it mattered. Like I didn't matter." Tom's eyes flickered, but his face remained expressionless. "It's better this way." "Better for who?" she demanded, her voice sharper now, the hurt she had been holding back slipping through the cracks. "Because it certainly hasn't been better for me."