𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒, ᵗᵒᵐ ʳⁱᵈᵈˡᵉ. ✓

038.

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The night was unusually clear, the sky above Hogwarts dotted with shimmering stars, their cold light twinkling like distant, unreachable diamonds. The air was crisp, with a biting chill that clung to the stone walls of the Astronomy Tower. It was quiet up there, away from the hustle of the castle below. Perfectly still, except for the faint rustling of leaves in the Forbidden Forest far below and the occasional gust of wind that swept across the ancient tower.

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Tom Riddle stood near the edge of the tower, his sharp features illuminated by the silvery moonlight. His posture was as straight and rigid as ever, his hands clasped behind his back as he gazed out at the stars, deep in thought. For someone who valued control and order, the vastness of the universe above them—the chaos of stars scattered across the sky—was both fascinating and infuriating. The stars existed in their own time and space, unaffected by the petty concerns of mortals.

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Behind him, Daphne Rose was sitting on one of the stone benches, looking up at the same stars, though with far less intensity than Tom. She had been the one to suggest coming up here, craving a moment of peace with him away from the complexities of their lives, away from the eyes of their fellow Slytherins and the weight of Tom's ever-present ambitions. "It's beautiful," Daphne said softly, breaking the silence. Her voice was quiet, almost reverent as if speaking too loudly would shatter the delicate atmosphere. "I don't think I've ever seen the stars so clearly."

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Tom didn't respond right away. His gaze remained fixed on the sky, but his mind was elsewhere—thinking of the future, of power, of control. But there was something about the calmness of the night, about Daphne's presence, that tugged at him, pulling him out of his thoughts and back to the moment. After a long pause, he finally spoke. "The stars have been there for thousands of years, unchanged, unaffected by anything that happens here." His voice was cool, as it always was, but there was an underlying current of fascination. "They are constants in a universe full of chaos."

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Daphne smiled softly, wrapping her cloak tighter around her shoulders as a breeze drifted by. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? To be constant. Unchangeable. Untouchable." Tom glanced down at her, his dark eyes flickering with something unreadable. "Perhaps." Daphne shook her head gently, leaning back and resting her hands on the cold stone of the bench. "I don't know. I think change is important. Growth. Without it, we're just... stuck."

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Tom's gaze lingered on her for a moment, his expression carefully neutral. She always had a way of challenging him, pushing him to think differently, though she did it in her own quiet, unobtrusive way. It was one of the reasons he had let her get so close, despite the walls he kept up with everyone else. "You would think that," he said, his tone cold but not unkind. "You're far too optimistic." Daphne chuckled, shaking her head. "I'm realistic. I just think there's more to life than trying to control everything." She looked up at him, her eyes bright in the moonlight. "Even you can't control the stars, Tom."

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He turned to face her fully now, stepping away from the edge of the tower. "I don't need to control the stars," he said, his voice low and commanding. "What matters is what happens here—on this earth, in this life." Daphne's gaze softened, and she held his stare for a long moment. She knew how much control mattered to him. It was the foundation of who he was—Tom Riddle didn't let anything slip out of his grasp. He built his world on ambition, and she accepted that about him. But there were moments, like now, when she wished he could see things differently. When she wished he could allow himself to be vulnerable, just for a moment.

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"You don't always have to carry the weight of the world, you know," she said quietly. "Not with me." Tom's expression flickered for a brief moment, a crack in his carefully constructed armor. He wasn't used to such softness, to someone offering him something without expecting anything in return. His instincts told him to dismiss her words, to brush them off and return to the cold, calculated path he had set for himself. But something in her gaze, in the way she looked at him—completely unafraid—held him still.

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He sat down beside her on the bench, though he didn't say anything at first. The silence stretched between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was almost peaceful, the kind of silence that only existed between two people who truly understood each other. After a while, Tom tilted his head back, looking up at the stars again. "They're not as constant as they seem," he said, almost to himself. "Stars die. They burn out and disappear. It just takes longer for us to notice."

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Daphne turned her head to look at him, her brows furrowing slightly. "And what does that mean?" Tom's eyes flicked to hers, and there was something dark, almost foreboding in his gaze. "It means everything is temporary, Daphne. Even the stars. Even us." She watched him closely, sensing the weight behind his words. There was a coldness to Tom, a darkness that she had always known was there, but moments like this reminded her just how deeply it ran. He saw the world differently than she did—saw it as something to conquer, something that would eventually fade away, leaving only those strong enough to survive.

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But Daphne wasn't afraid of that darkness. She had never been. "Maybe," she said softly, her voice steady despite the chill in the air. "But that doesn't mean we shouldn't enjoy the moments we have." Tom didn't respond right away, his gaze drifting back to the sky. For a long time, he said nothing, and Daphne wondered if her words had even registered. But then, slowly, he reached out, his fingers brushing against hers where her hand rested on the stone bench.

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It was a small gesture, almost imperceptible, but to Daphne, it spoke volumes. Tom Riddle wasn't someone who allowed himself to be vulnerable. He didn't let people in, didn't let anyone get too close. But with her, he was different. He didn't have to say it out loud—she could feel it in the way he held her gaze, in the way his hand rested against hers.

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They sat like that for a while, watching the stars in silence, the weight of their unspoken bond hanging in the air between them. Tom's mind was still racing with thoughts of power, of control, of the future he would carve for himself. But for this moment, with Daphne beside him, the stars above, and the cold wind biting at their skin, he allowed himself a rare moment of peace. And perhaps, for once, that was enough.

Word count: 1150