Chapter 1
It was a rainy October afternoon at Hogwarts, the kind where the chill seeped into your bones and refused to let go. A day like every other, or was it? The castle, usually bustling with students, was quieter than usual. Most were holed up in their common rooms, or quickly making their ways from class to class.
You, on the other hand, were already in class, DADA to be specific. A stack of books balanced precariously in your arms, as you made your way towards your seat. Tom took his seat next to you a few minutes later, you could notice his usually impeccable posture slumped, dark circles under his eyes, and a slight tremor in his hands as he turned the pages of a thick tome. The uneasiness surrounding him was different than usual, not in the arrogant and egoistic way, rather sickly and distressed.
He is pale, paler than usual, almost looking like a walking corpse, his hair unkempt and a slight bit greasy.. An image you’d never expect to see from the most praised and intellectual Slytherin prefect that got furious when just a strand of his hair was in the wrong place. His tie seemed also way too crooked to have it this way intentionally, more likely messily tied in a haste, almost as if he’d overslept. But that wasn’t possible, right? The perfect Tom Riddle oversleeping? It must’ve just your mind running wild with speculations.. He wasn’t talking, no comment on how your bloodline was a disgrace to all of the witching community, no insults on your own slightly crooked tie. Nothing, not a single syllable.
“Morning..”, was all you could mutter out as you saw his state.
He was silent, sniffling a little before blowing his nose. Now that you could have a closer look at him, you could see the small beads of sweat building up on his forehead, his eyes cloudy and dull like the fog over the forest ground in the early morning.
Later during the lesson, you noticed that his attention was totally not on the lesson, more on trying to stay awake. You put your hand on his shoulder, making his head whip into your direction with a slight irritated expression.
“What do you want?”, his voice hoarse and scratchy, sitting up straighter, trying to hide his unwellness.
“Riddle, you look like death warmed over,” you remarked, unable to keep the concern out of your voice. Tom glanced up, his eyes narrowing at the intrusion.
“I’m fi-..”, his answer is interrupted by a harsh coughing fit.
You rolled your eyes, used to his abrasive demeanor. “If that’s what you think then sure, go on with your day as if you’re fine, even though you’re not.” Ignoring his glare, you set your books down and got into a comfortable position in the seat next to him. "You need rest. Pushing yourself like this will only make it worse."
“I said I’m fine, I’m just a little.. unwell. Nothing worth much attention.”
He looked at you, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. Maybe it was exhaustion, or maybe it was a rare moment of vulnerability. Either way, he didn't protest when you slowly reached over and touched his forehead.
"You're burning up," you said softly. "Come on, let's get you to the hospital wing, the lesson can wait."
For a moment, you thought he would refuse, but then he sighed, the fight seeming to drain out of him. "Fine," he muttered. "But only because I don't want you to keep nagging me. But I’m fine either way.."
“Tom.. you’re this close”, I pinch my fingers together, until there is just around a millimeter of space between them, “to falling asleep right here. You’re coming. This is not an invitation for discussion.”
You smiled a small and soft smile, as he let you help him to his feet. The journey to the hospital wing was slow, each step seeming to sap more of his strength, resulting in you stepping closer to him, to wrap your arm around his waist to keep him steady. When you finally arrived, Madam Pomfrey took one look at Tom after he collapsed into one of the beds, and tutted disapprovingly.
You stayed with him as Madam Pomfrey fussed over him, brewing potions and casting diagnostic spells. Tom lay back on the bed, eyes closed, his usual mask of indifference slipping.
"You didn't have to stay," he murmured after a while, his voice softer than you had ever heard it.
"I know," you replied, taking a seat beside his bed. "But rivals or not, I don't like seeing anyone suffer."
He opened his eyes, regarding you with an intensity that made you shift uncomfortably. "Thank you," he said finally, the words sounding foreign on his lips.
You shrugged, trying to play it off. "Just don’t expect me to go easy on you in class once you’re better."
A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I wouldn’t dream of it."