Bella's Point of View
Bella hadn't slept much.
Tom's room had been quiet, and his arms around her had been almost comforting... almost. But her thoughts had been too loud—whispers of guilt and questions spinning round and round in her head like ghosts.
She walked through the castle the next morning with a growing ache in her chest. The dungeons had felt colder than usual, the Slytherin common room stifling, and now the sharp winter sunlight in Greenhouse Three was too bright. Too exposed.
The class was half over before she realized her fingers were trembling around her pruning shears.
"Bella," came a voice beside her. Gentle. Familiar.
She looked up.
It was Marianne, one of her roommates—soft brown eyes, always clutching a book, always patient. Her face looked worried now.
"Are you alright?" she asked.
Bella blinked. "I'm fine."
"You haven't spoken to anyone since the Yule Ball. And..." Marianne hesitated, glancing around before leaning closer. "People are saying things. About you. And Tom."
Bella's chest tightened. "Let them talk."
Marianne frowned. "I'm not worried about them. I'm worried about you."
There it was again. That tone. Concern. Doubt. Like they thought she couldn't see the truth of things.
"I know what I'm doing," Bella said, more sharply than intended.
But Marianne didn't back down. "Do you? Because the professors are starting to ask questions. And I saw how Tom looked at that Ravenclaw boy in the corridor yesterday. Bella, he hexed someone because they laughed at you."
Bella lowered her eyes. Her throat felt dry.
"I didn't ask him to."
"I know," Marianne whispered. "That's what scares me."
Before Bella could respond, Professor Sprout called for attention. The moment shattered like a glass jar dropped on stone, and Marianne turned away reluctantly.
Bella barely heard the instructions for the rest of the lesson. Her mind was too full.
They didn't understand. Not really.
Tom was difficult, yes. Intense. Controlling sometimes. But he cared. He was the only one who ever looked at her like she wasn't a mistake, like she mattered.
And yet...
Why did she feel like she was disappearing a little more every time she let him tell her what was true?
After class, she tried to slip away quickly, but Professor McGonagall caught her just outside the greenhouse.
"Miss Mia," she said, not unkindly. "A word, if you please."
Bella stiffened. "Yes, Professor?"
McGonagall glanced around, then spoke in a low tone. "You've been seen spending a great deal of time with Mr. Riddle. And there are rumors—persistent ones—about your involvement with matters far beyond your year's concern."
Bella's heart pounded. "I haven't done anything wrong."
"I hope that's true." McGonagall's eyes softened slightly. "You are kind. Loyal. And far brighter than you think, Miss Mia. But sometimes, loyalty can be misplaced. Especially when it clouds judgment."
Bella didn't answer. She couldn't.
"Take care," McGonagall finished quietly. "And please, if you are in trouble—"
"I'm not."
She turned and walked away before the professor could say anything more.
That night in the common room, Bella sat by the fire, staring into the flickering orange glow. She didn't see Marianne, or the students whispering across the room. She didn't even flinch when someone laughed too loudly.
She just waited.
And like always, Tom came.
He sat beside her in silence, then took her hand. His touch was warm. Possessive.
"You've been quiet," he said.
"I've been thinking."
"About what?"
She turned to him. "About what people say. What they think."
His eyes darkened. "They're wrong."
"They think you're dangerous."
"Do you think that?"
Her lips parted. She didn't answer.
Tom leaned in closer, his voice velvet and steel. "I'd burn this whole castle down before I let them take you from me, Bella. You know that."
She shivered. Whether from the words or his tone, she didn't know.
"Do you believe me?"
"I... I don't know," she whispered. "I want to."
Tom reached up and touched her cheek, his thumb brushing just under her eye.
"Then don't think. Just stay."
He leaned in and kissed her—softly at first, then deeper, until the world melted away again and there was only the fire and the echo of his heartbeat against hers.
And somewhere in her chest, something fractured a little more.