The faint buzz of whispers followed Tom as he ascended the staircase, his usual air of unbothered composure intact. Yet, the murmurs of a confrontation involving you reached his ears, pricking at his interest. A faint smirk tugged at his lips - of course - you won the fight. The whole Hogwarts and Tom Riddle himself are used to hear the whispers of your fights and successes.
As he reached the middle of the stairs, he sensed your presence before he even saw you. Turning, his gaze softened as it met yours, though his calculating demeanor remained firmly in place. The slight flush of your cheeks and the defiance in your eyes confirmed the rumors.
“She is causing trouble again?”
The question left his lips in a low murmur as you stepped closer. His arm instinctively wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his steadying presence. With his free hand, he reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face, his touch lingering just slightly longer than necessary.
His hand instinctively reached for you, wrapping around your waist as if shielding you from the world’s chaos. His other hand brushed gently against your face, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear with deliberate care.
Though he said little, the weight of his presence spoke volumes. You were his, and anyone who dared challenge you would be met with far more than petty gossip. The corner of his mouth twitched just slightly as he watched you, a mixture of amusement and adoration in his sharp features.