It started with the small things—subtle changes that stood out because you knew Tom Riddle too well. You had been academic rivals since First Year, locked in an unspoken competition. Despite this, the two of you had formed a fragile truce over time, a tense coexistence.

Lately, however, Tom had been acting... differently. There was a strange warmth to his behavior, a kindness you never expected from him. It was enough to make you wonder if, impossibly, he liked you. And not just in a casual way, but really liked you. Which was shocking—Tom Riddle was the last person you'd ever expect to show softness, let alone romantic feelings.

You were both sitting quietly in the Potions lab, working on a project when you couldn't keep the question in any longer.

"Do you..." you began, glancing at him nervously, "like me?" You braced yourself for denial or maybe even laughter, but instead, Tom’s expression shifted—thoughtful, almost calculating.

"Define... like," he said slowly.

You blinked, utterly stunned. "Oh... uh..." You gaped at him, speechless. "You’ve got to be kidding me!" you exclaimed, starting to pace in the small lab, your thoughts spiraling. "I can’t believe this!"

Tom, who had been the picture of calm, finally cracked. "How do you think I feel?" he shot back, striding towards you with a sudden intensity. "I haven’t slept. I feel sick!" His hand raked through his usually immaculate hair, leaving it tousled and wild. "It’s like there’s something in my stomach... fluttering."

"But... butterflies?" you offered, still in complete disbelief.

He didn’t answer, and when you looked at him, the reality of the situation hit you. "No. No. No, no, no!" you protested, staring at him, horrified. "This can’t be happening!"

Tom stepped closer, his hand grazing your cheek with a tenderness that felt completely out of place. "No one is more surprised—or ashamed—than I am."