𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒, ᵗᵒᵐ ʳⁱᵈᵈˡᵉ. ✓

043.

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The evening was still and quiet, the halls of Hogwarts lit only by the faint glow of the enchanted torches. Most of the students were already in bed, but Daphne Greengrass found herself wandering the corridors, her thoughts tangled with emotions she had tried to suppress for weeks. It wasn't uncommon for her to find solace in the quiet solitude of the castle at night. Tonight, however, she had a purpose. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her hands felt cold with nervous energy. She had to tell him—there was no avoiding it anymore.

___

For weeks, she sensed the growing tension between them, the unspoken connection that simmered beneath the surface. Tom Riddle was as enigmatic and guarded as ever, but Daphne knew something was between them. Something deeper than the casual glances or brief touches they sometimes shared. But Tom, being Tom, never let his guard down enough to show his true emotions. And Daphne couldn't stand it anymore. She had to know where she stood with him, even if it meant risking everything.

___

She reached the Slytherin common room and hesitated at the entrance. Her heart was racing now, her pulse loud in her ears as she gathered the courage to push through. She had come too far to turn back now. Stepping inside, she found Tom seated near the fireplace, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the fire. He was reading, as usual, a large, ancient book balanced on his knee, his eyes scanning the pages with the kind of intensity only Tom could manage. Even in moments like this, he looked untouchable, always in control.

___

For a moment, Daphne simply stood there, watching him. The flickering firelight cast shadows over his sharp features, highlighting the cool detachment that always seemed to surround him. But Daphne knew better. She knew there was more to him than the mask he wore for the rest of the world. She had seen glimpses of it in the quiet moments they had shared—moments where his guard had slipped just a little, and she had caught sight of the vulnerability he kept hidden so well. "Tom," Daphne said softly, breaking the silence.

___

Tom's eyes flicked up from his book, meeting hers. His expression remained unreadable, but there was a brief flicker of curiosity in his gaze. "Daphne," he acknowledged, his voice calm and composed, as if her presence was nothing out of the ordinary. Daphne walked toward him, her heart pounding in her chest as she closed the distance between them. She felt the weight of her confession building inside her, the words threatening to spill out before she was ready. But she couldn't back down now. She had to know. "I need to talk to you," she said, her voice steady despite the nerves swirling in her chest.

___

Tom raised an eyebrow, setting his book aside as he straightened in his chair. He studied her for a moment, his dark eyes unreadable, but she could sense the shift in his attention. He knew this wasn't just a casual conversation. "What is it?" Daphne stood before him, her hands trembling slightly as she tried to find the right words. How could she explain everything she felt? How could she make him understand the depth of her emotions when he was so guarded, so distant? "I've been thinking about us," she began, her voice quieter now, almost tentative. "And... I can't keep pretending that this doesn't mean anything to me. That *you* don't mean anything to me."

___

Tom's expression remained impassive, but his eyes darkened with intensity as he listened. He didn't interrupt, allowing her to continue, though his silence only made her more nervous. Daphne took a deep breath, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "I've tried to ignore it. I've tried to tell myself that it's just a passing feeling, that you don't care about things like this. But I can't anymore. I care about you, Tom. More than I should."

___

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and charged with emotion. For a long moment, Tom didn't move. His eyes searched hers, but his face remained unreadable, the carefully constructed mask he always wore firmly in place. Daphne's heart pounded in the silence. She hadn't expected him to react emotionally—Tom never did—but the stillness, the lack of any response, made her feel exposed, vulnerable. She had laid her heart bare before him, and now, she waited for the judgment she feared. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Tom spoke.

___

"You shouldn't," he said, his voice low and measured. "You know what I am. You know what I'm capable of. I can't give you what you want, Daphne." His words were cold, but there was something beneath them—a trace of regret, maybe, or a warning. But Daphne wasn't deterred. She had expected this. She knew Tom wouldn't make it easy for her. "I don't care," she said, her voice firmer now, more resolute. "I know who you are, Tom. I know the darkness you carry, and I'm not afraid of it. I'm not asking you to change. I'm just asking you to be honest with me."

___

Tom's eyes flashed with something—an emotion he quickly buried beneath his usual calm facade. "Honesty is dangerous," he murmured. "For both of us." Daphne took a step closer, her heart racing. She could feel the tension between them, the push and pull of emotions they both tried to suppress. "I'm not afraid of danger, Tom. Not when it comes to you." Tom's jaw tightened, his gaze hardening as he looked away from her, as though fighting an internal battle. For the first time, Daphne saw the conflict in his eyes—the struggle between the part of him that wanted to push her away and the part that couldn't.

___

She reached out, her hand brushing against his, a small but meaningful gesture. "Tom," she whispered, her voice soft but filled with emotion. "I know you care. You wouldn't be trying so hard to push me away if you didn't." His fingers twitched under her touch, and for a brief moment, she thought he might pull away. But he didn't. Instead, he turned his hand over, his fingers brushing against hers in a rare, vulnerable moment of connection. "I can't give you what you want," Tom repeated, though his voice lacked the conviction it had before. "I can't love the way others do. I'm not... like them."

___

Daphne's heart ached at his words, but she refused to let go. "I don't need you to be like everyone else. I just need you to let me in. To let me care about you, even if you think you don't deserve it." Tom's eyes met hers again, and this time, she saw it—the briefest flicker of something real, something raw, buried deep beneath his carefully controlled exterior. For a moment, he was just a boy—alone, guarded, afraid to let anyone get close. But Daphne wasn't afraid. Slowly, Tom stood, stepping toward her until they were standing mere inches apart. He was so close now that she could feel the warmth of his body, the tension radiating from him as he struggled with the emotions he had always kept at bay.

___

"I don't want to hurt you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes dark and intense. Daphne looked up at him, her heart pounding in her chest, but her voice steady. "Then don't." The silence between them stretched thick with unspoken emotions. And then, before she could say anything more, Tom's hand cupped her cheek, his touch gentle yet firm, as though he was still unsure of how much he could allow himself to feel. For the first time, Tom let his guard down—just a little. It wasn't a confession, wasn't an outpouring of love, but it was something. A step toward her, toward the truth they both knew but had been too afraid to acknowledge.

And that was enough. At that moment, Daphne knew that Tom cared. It might not have been in the way others did, but it was real. And for now, that was all she needed.

Word count: 1348