𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒, ᵗᵒᵐ ʳⁱᵈᵈˡᵉ. ✓

044.

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The air at Hogwarts was buzzing with excitement as the Yule Ball approached. The castle was alive with chatter about dates, dresses, and who was taking whom to the grand event. Daphne Rose, however, found herself less excited and more distracted by one particular enigma—Tom Riddle.

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He hadn't said much about the Ball, though she had noticed his sharp gaze lingering on her more than usual in recent days. As always, Tom kept his emotions well hidden, a master at maintaining his calm, detached demeanor. But Daphne knew him better than most. She could sense when something was stirring beneath the surface. She had no idea if Tom would even attend the Ball. He wasn't the type to indulge in the frivolities most students reveled in. And yet, there was a small part of her that hoped, however foolish it seemed, that he might ask her to accompany him. But then again, hope felt dangerous when it came to Tom.

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As Daphne sat in the common room, finishing a letter to her parents, she sensed a familiar presence enter the room. She didn't have to look up to know it was Tom—his aura was unmistakable, commanding the space with quiet authority. He approached without a word, standing at her side until she finally looked up. "Tom," she greeted, her tone neutral, though her heart picked up its pace. She carefully folded the letter, tucking it away as she met his gaze. "Daphne," he replied smoothly, his voice low, his expression unreadable as always. But there was something different in his eyes tonight—an intensity she hadn't seen in a while.

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He stood there in silence for a moment, watching her, and Daphne raised an eyebrow, trying to read him. She was used to his cryptic ways, but this time, there was an unfamiliar tension between them, and it made her pulse quicken. "Is something wrong?" she asked, her voice soft. Tom shook his head slightly, a faint smirk touching the corner of his lips. "No. There's something I've been meaning to ask you." Daphne blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Tom Riddle didn't ask things—he demanded, expected, and received. The fact that he was hesitating, even for a second, intrigued her.

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"I've been hearing talk about the Yule Ball," Tom continued, his tone as cool as ever, but there was a certain edge to it now. "A waste of time, in my opinion. But..." Daphne leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. "But?" Tom's gaze didn't waver, his eyes dark and intense. "But if I must go, I'd prefer not to waste my time with anyone who doesn't matter." Her heart skipped a beat at his words, though she tried not to show it. Was he suggesting what she thought he was? "And who, exactly, do you think matters?" Daphne asked, her voice steady despite the flutter of anticipation rising within her.

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Tom was quiet for a moment, studying her with that sharp, calculating gaze of his as if weighing his next words carefully. Then, in a tone as smooth as silk, he finally said, "You, of course." Daphne's breath hitched, and for a moment, she wasn't sure she had heard him correctly. Tom Riddle, the cold, distant, ever-calculating boy she had spent months trying to unravel, was asking her to the Yule Ball. In his way, of course—without flourish or sentiment—but still, it was unmistakable. "You want me to go to the Yule Ball with you?" she asked, just to be sure. Her tone was light, though her heart pounded in her chest.

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Tom gave a slight nod, his expression unreadable. "Yes." For a moment, Daphne could hardly believe it. Of all the things she had expected, this wasn't one of them. But as she looked at him, she realized that this was how Tom showed he cared. He wouldn't shower her with affection or grand gestures, but this—inviting her to share something as public as the Yule Ball with him—was a step. "I didn't think you'd be interested in something like that," Daphne said, unable to keep the teasing tone from her voice.

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Tom's lips twitched, almost forming a smile. "I'm not. But I would be interested in attending with you." Her heart warmed at his words, even if they were delivered in that cool, calculated way of his. This was Tom's way of letting her in, of showing her that she meant something to him, even if he would never admit it outright. Daphne stood, smoothing out her robes as she faced him. "Well, then," she said, her voice softer now, "I'd be honored to go with you." For a brief moment, Tom's expression softened—just a fraction, but enough for Daphne to notice. He stepped closer, his presence commanding as ever, though there was a strange sort of warmth in the air between them now.

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"Good," he said simply, his voice low. "Then it's settled." Daphne smiled, feeling a rare flutter of excitement that she hadn't expected. "You'll have to try not to scowl the whole time," she teased lightly. "It is supposed to be a celebration, after all." Tom's eyes darkened with amusement, though he didn't smile. "I'll do my best." With that, he turned and walked toward the entrance, but before leaving, he glanced back at her, his gaze lingering for just a moment longer than usual. "I'll see you then, Daphne."

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As he disappeared into the shadows of the corridor, Daphne stood in the empty common room, her heart still racing. She had always known Tom was different—complicated, difficult, and dangerous. But tonight, for the first time, she had glimpsed the part of him that wanted something more. Something with her. And as the Yule Ball loomed on the horizon, she couldn't help but wonder what that night would bring—what it meant for both of them to step out of the shadows together.

Word count: 968