Chapter 3
The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over Tom's dormitory. The room was quiet, the usual bustle of Hogwarts still subdued in the early hours. Slowly, consciousness returned to you, the comfort of the warm bed and the feeling of safety making you reluctant to open your eyes.
As you began to wake, you became aware of a weight draped over you, and something—or rather, someone—pressed against your side. Your eyes slowly opened, and you found yourself face-to-face with Tom Riddle, his arms wrapped around you in a gentle embrace. His expression was peaceful, the usual stern lines of his face softened in sleep.
Your heart skipped a beat as you realized the position you were in. You were cuddling with Tom Riddle. The same Tom Riddle who was your academic rival and the same Tom Riddle who had been so vulnerable the night before.
You tried to shift slightly, but Tom's grip tightened, a small, content sigh escaping his lips. It was clear he was still asleep, and the last thing you wanted to do was wake him. Instead, you took a moment to just... be. The warmth of his body against yours, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the feeling of his arms around you—it was surprisingly comforting.
After a few minutes, Tom began to stir. His eyes fluttered open, and for a brief moment, confusion flashed across his face. Then, as his gaze met yours, realization dawned, and his cheeks flushed slightly.
"Good morning," you said softly, a small smile playing on your lips.
"Good morning," he replied, his voice still heavy with sleep. He didn't immediately pull away, and you noticed a flicker of something in his eyes—hesitation, perhaps, or uncertainty.
"Did you sleep well?" you asked, breaking the silence.
"Better than I have in a long time," he admitted, his voice soft. "Thank you, Y/N. For everything."
You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "You're welcome, Tom. I'm glad you're feeling better."
He finally released his hold on you, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. "I suppose we should get ready for the day," he said, though there was a hint of reluctance in his tone.
You nodded, also sitting up. "Yes, we should. But remember, take it easy today. You're still recovering."
Tom glanced at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I will. And thank you, Y/N. For staying with me."
As you both got ready for the day, the comfortable silence between you spoke volumes. There was no need for words; the bond that had formed between you was enough. The rivalry that once defined your relationship now seemed trivial in the face of the connection you had discovered.
---
The Great Hall buzzed with the usual morning chatter as students filled the long tables for breakfast. You sat at the Ravenclaw table, occasionally glancing towards the Slytherin table where Tom sat. To your surprise, he avoided your gaze, focusing intently on his plate.
You brushed it off as him needing some space. After all, the previous night had been a lot for both of you. However, as the day progressed, Tom’s behaviour grew increasingly cold and distant. In Potions class, he barely acknowledged your presence, a stark contrast to the night before when you had shared such an intimate and vulnerable moment.
By lunchtime, it became clear that something was wrong. You found Tom in the library, surrounded by books. Gathering your courage, you approached him.
"Tom," you began softly, not wanting to startle him. "Can we talk?"
He looked up, his expression unreadable. "What is it, Y/N?"
You took a deep breath. "About last night... are you alright? You’ve been distant all day."
Tom's eyes flickered with a mixture of emotions—confusion, fear, and something else you couldn’t quite place. "I’m fine," he replied curtly. "I just have a lot of work to catch up on."
You frowned, sensing there was more to it. "Tom, you don’t have to shut me out. I thought we... I thought we connected."
His jaw tightened. "There is nothing to discuss, Y/N. We were rivals, and that’s all we should be."
Hurt flashed through you. "Is that really what you want?"
Tom's eyes hardened. "Yes. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."
You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat. "Alright, Tom. If that's what you want."
You turned and walked away, your heart heavy. It hurt to see him retreat behind his walls, but you knew that pushing him wouldn't help. Tom Riddle was complicated, and the vulnerability he showed last night was something he wasn't ready to accept.
---
The rest of the day passed in a blur. Your mind kept drifting back to Tom and the confusing mix of emotions you felt. By the time evening came, you were exhausted, both mentally and emotionally.
As you lay in bed that night, you couldn't help but replay the events in your mind. The warmth of his embrace, the coldness of his words. It was like two different people. You resolved to give him the space he seemed to need, hoping that in time, he would come to terms with his feelings.
Meanwhile, in his own dormitory, Tom lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He felt a tumult of emotions—fear, confusion, and a strange longing he couldn't quite understand. He was terrified of what he felt for you, of the vulnerability you brought out in him. So, he did what he always did—he pushed you away.
But as he lay there, the memory of your warmth and care lingered, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had made a mistake. Tom Riddle was many things, but he was also human, and the feelings he tried so hard to deny were not so easily dismissed.