You could recognise his presence everywhere.

Tom.

He walked beside you without a glance, as if he didn't know the taste of your lips or the shape of your body in the dark. As if he hadn't kissed you just hours ago, as if he couldn't breathe without you.

"I hate her," he said simply, his voice almost bored.

“He’s my enemy,” you said flatly. “Not my friend.”

Draco barked a laugh. “You two are exhausting.”

“I’m just saying, one of you will eventually snap,” Blaise added, “and honestly? I’m rooting for her.”

Mattheo smirked. “What is it now? Another duel? Maybe she beat you in class again, Tom?”

You rolled your eyes. “He’s not worth the energy.”

And yet all you could think of was last night - how his mouth had moved over your skin like a secret, slow and desperate, whispering things like 'mine' and 'stay'.

How, in the silence afterwards, he had rested his forehead against yours and just breathed.

But now?

Now his eyes were cold steel, staring past you as if you were nothing. You clenched your fists to keep from reaching for the ghost of his touch.

“Honestly,” Theodore muttered, “I’m surprised one of you hasn’t hexed the other into next week.”

You forced a cold laugh. “Tempting.”

Tom didn’t say anything. He just looked away.

But you felt it - how his gaze flickered to you when no one else was looking. Just the smallest of glances. Barely there. As if he wanted to make sure you were still real.

You looked back at the boys, forcing the bitterness to twist into a smirk. They believed it. They bought every word.

No one knew the truth.

No one saw how you'd clung to each other the night before, like lifelines, like enemies who knew they could only be soft in the dark.

Like two people who couldn’t afford to be seen loving each other in the light.

But you loved each other in a way that defied explanation, and the ring on your finger was the silent proof - a secret no one else knew.