Author's Notes: When I originally posted this chapter, I was quite concerned about the response it would receive. Thankfully, the reviews were all positive, so it is my sincere hope that you will find this as they did. And thank you for all of the reviews that you have been leaving.

Chapter Eighteen:
Confessions

I grew skittish as weeks passed, more so when Tom was near. I tended to avoid being close as often as I could, though it nearly broke my heart to do so, and found comfort in Hagrid, whom I took to visiting each day. It pained me to no end that Tom knew of the time I spent with the young gamekeeper, yet in turn, I hardly spoke to him. The dreadfully hurt look upon his face whenever we encountered one another made me feel loathing toward myself, for I longed to explain my actions, but what I had Seen continued to haunt me, and so I could not.

And then the day came, the day I knew was bound to come, one I had come to dread, the day when my lack of the ability to speak at the appropriate moments, finally took its toll. Tom began to take an interest in other Slytherins—girls—ones who had more beauty at sixteen than I could ever have hoped to graze in my lifetime. They were remarkably sensitive at first, knowing that I was often seen with him in the library.

"What about her?" they would ask, their eyes flickering to where I sat, and glancing away when I met their gaze.

Tom would glance at me coldly before withdrawing his piercing eyes from me. "Her?" he would repeat with a voice laden with venom. "Why should I care what she thinks? She matters not to me." With tear-stained cheeks I would turn away and bury my nose into a book, the heavy parchment pages deadening my sobs. The girl would laugh with relief and oft times poke a jest at me, thinking that I could not hear. They seemed not to realize that my ears were not stuffed with cotton, and that I could never be in the least bit ignorant to them.

And so I relied once more upon my studies to keep me progressing forward, though even that was not enough. It was true that I had learned, through the years, to mask my love to keep him oblivious, and yet I had not learned to destroy it (for many times I wished that I could). I allowed myself to slip below—though only just—my average marks, pushing Tom to the top of our year. At the time, it was as if I knew the precise things that he would miss, if any, and would attempt to score as high as possible without passing his marks. I was nearly always correct in my estimates, receiving at most two points less than he. It was only once that I was wrong.

"Exam grades today, class," announced the Potions Master of the time. I sighed to myself, fully aware that whatever I had learned, I could have surpassed easily. He stalked between the rows, handing back papers to their terrified recipients. "Parmellie..." He shuffled through the scored exams and handed one to me from near the centre. "Top marks, well done."

I stared numbly at what had been returned to me. Top marks? It meant that I had out-scored Tom.

"Riddle," I heard him say, "Very surprising, I would have expected better from you... Hornby, fair marks..."

I swallowed. From the silent fashion in which he had accepted such low marks, and the satisfied smile twisting at his upper lip when he glanced at me, I realized that he had guessed of my plan. I supposed that I had made my intentions terribly and entirely too obvious, and that in his brilliance, he was bound to come across a conclusion for my behavior. My reaction had been enough to confirm it, though he still remained puzzled as to why I had done so, sacrificing a great deal, and seemingly for his sake.

As the bell tolled that signaled the beginning of our final meal for the day, I packed my belongings quickly, exiting the classroom before the remaining students had noticed that they were permitted to leave. I had not, of course, taken into account that I would perhaps be followed.

It was only when I neared a secluded corner when I perceived the echo of footsteps behind me. I quickened my pace and glanced over my shoulder, though I saw no one; the corridor was deserted, or nearly so, for students and staff alike had begun their trek to the Great Hall. However, with another darted look behind me, my follower failed to conceal himself in time. It was Tom.

My mind raced. I was not prepared to—nor did I wish to—speak with him. I knew that his sprint was much faster than mine to a point that he could overtake me in seconds if I ran, so I deemed that the only escape would be to outwit him. But it was not to be.

"Danielle!" I heard him call, as if his voice alone could stop me. I acted as though I had not heard him. "Danie- Please... wait!" I should have anticipated his next move, but in my haste I had not thought of it. "Bloody... IMPEDIMENTA!" he bellowed, freezing my legs. I swore silently as he came at a jog to where I stood. He soon muttered the counter-curse and I regained the use of my legs. He stuffed the wand into its place in the pocket of his robe. Then he rounded on me, his eyes flashing. "What was that, Danielle! It is most obvious that you can do much better than you have been on the exams, yet you choose not to! Why is that! What are you doing, Danielle!" He grasped my shoulders as if to prevent me from attempting escape. I firmly held my ground, though my heart fluttered in panic. "And why is it that you do not speak to me! Why have you suddenly avoided me! Tell me what it is that I have done!"

I wrenched myself from his grip, choking on the saltiness of my tears. "Do you not understand!" I sobbed furiously, briefly biting down upon the inside of my cheek. "It is because I love you, Tom!"

A stunned silence lay between us. I glared at him defiantly, as if daring him to laugh. He blinked, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly agape. "What?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I said," I trembled, "It is because I love you!" He moved his hand as if to touch my shoulder, but I brushed it away. "And I always have, ever since we met!" I choked out an incoherent explanation of what I had Seen in Divination, all the while clenching my fists, digging my nails into my palm. "I n-never wanted to lose you to anyone! I could not bear to think of you with someone else, but I knew that you would never... f-feel the same!" I sobbed.

"Danielle..." his voice was laden with emotion. He was so close, we were nearly touching. "How could you possibly know how I feel?" He lifted his fingers up to stroke my cheek. I followed the length of his arm with my gaze until I reached his eyes.

And suddenly, we were kissing.

He ran his hands through my hair, my arms thrown around his neck. I had pinned him against the wall of the corridor, though it seemed that our passion was not to be contained. Two -and-a-half years of pent-up emotion let itself run free, released from the confines of my heart.

Tom shifted a hair's breadth to one side, when a hidden doorway was opened, triggered by his sudden change of position. We staggered through it, his lips never leaving mine, until we fell upon something that felt unmistakably like a mattress.

-

I lay in his arms, against his bare chest, our ragged breaths synchronized as one. My shirt lay some place where Tom had cast it aside—though that was the only garment I had allowed him to remove. (Although impassioned, we still had our wits about us.)

He caressed my skin tenderly as he spoke, his voice hoarse. "Marry me, Danielle..."

"What?" I asked, awed, and I waited for him to continue.

"It could be a secret for now, a promise. When we complete our schooling, we can be wed!"

My heart nearly exploded with joy, but I remained cautious, if only to tease. "But what about... well, you mentioned settling down, dropping hints about someone..."

"Oh, Danielle!" he whispered exasperatedly. "Do you still doubt me? Every time, that 'someone' was you!"

A tear escaped my eye and pooled upon his arm. "I have never doubted you, Tom." I turned so that I faced him, and we kissed once more.

With that, I was engaged, in secret, to become the future wife of Tom Marvolo Riddle.