She smiled at the eight-year-old boy who crept to her side, glancing around furtively as if he did not want to be seen. He reached into his pocket and displayed a handful of wilted flowers.
"For you," he said, smiling shyly and toying with his lovely black hair.
She grinned back. Kneeling, she accepted the flowers. "Thank you, Tom. These are lovely."
He gazed at her, completely enamored. Suddenly, he lunged forward and hugged her around the middle.
Blinking with surprise, she patted his head. "Run along, now."
I do believe Tom Riddle is in love, she thought.