Tom Riddle’s dark eyes rose from the parchment he had already laid out on his desk to meet my eyes. My stomach jumped, just as it did whenever he looked at me. Such dark eyes, like bottomless pools in a cave at midnight. I could drown in those pools. Who needed to breathe anyway? Dying in his eyes would be preferable to living anywhere else.
Tom blinked and, disgruntled, I surfaced from my thoughts about dark pools and midnight caverns. An effortless smile crossed his thin lips.
“Hello.” He paused, then his smile widened. “Anne… isn’t it?” My heart fluttered as he said my name. It sounded so right coming off his tongue, passing his lips. I was immediately entranced by those lips. If only I could bring them closer to mine…
Remembering that he had asked a question, I nodded and cleared my throat. “Yes, th-that’s my name –Anne… Yeah.”
Tom gestured to the seat beside him. “Would you like to sit with me, Anne?”
My heart fluttered and I nodded again. I hurried forward, tripping over my own feet, and slid into the proffered seat, still staring at him. He quirked an eyebrow (he looked so mischievous!), and, still smiling, asked, “What? Do I have something on my face?”
Embarrassed, I shook my head and allowed my hair to swing into my face as I dug for parchment and quills in my bag, trying to hide my blush.
Professor Binns entered the classroom through the chalkboard as usual, and class began.
“On June 2, 1372, Aldebert the Inexperienced led an army of Goblins in a surprise attack—“
I couldn’t concentrate. The most handsome boy in Hogwarts was sitting next to me! He was sitting so close that I could feel his knee pressing against mine under the table. I tried to take notes, but my handwriting wavered. Tom was bent over his parchment, scribbling notes. Already an entire paragraph had bloomed under his quill. The sunlight pouring in through the windows shone on his smooth dark hair, and I couldn’t look away.
I drifted into daydreams involving myself, Tom Riddle, and deserted corridors…
Just as I was getting to the really good part there was a snapping noise and I sat up, startled. Tom’s quill dangled from his hand, broken in two pieces. He grimaced (such a lovely grimace) and turned to me.
“Can I borrow a quill?” he whispered. Binns droned on.
“Yes! One moment!” I almost literally dove into my bag, thrusting aside books, looking for an extra quill to give Tom Riddle. After a moment I emerged, victorious, a battered quill in my grasp. I handed it over with a flourish. Tom smiled then went back to his furious scribbling.
“In September of 1372, wizard Midas Lionheart convinced the Wizengamot—“
I lapsed back into daydreams.
, Tom thought wryly as he left the classroom, that was an interesting Legilimency practice session.