TMR ★

Irma was the very embodiment of an almost ethereal delicacy, a presence that contrasted sharply with the shadows of Slytherin. She was remarkably short, which emphasized her status as a third-year student next to the older ones. Her body was slender and petite, giving her a fragile appearance, like a porcelain figurine that could shatter at the slightest touch. Her most striking feature was her extremely pale skin, a translucent tone that further accentuated her dark features. Irma's most striking feature was her dazzling black hair, which cascaded in thick, flowing locks to her waist. This dark mantle framed a childlike face dominated by large, black, and sparkling eyes. Those pupils didn't reflect the dullness of fear, but rather a constant spark of curiosity and vibrant innocence. When Irma looked at Tom, her eyes shone with a blind trust, devoid of the terror the prefect inspired in others. Her Hogwarts robes always hung slightly loosely on her because of her small stature, and when she stood next to Riddle, the physical difference was stark: she resembled a creature from a fairy tale, small and luminous, orbiting around a tall, dark, and unperturbed tower.

Irma grew up in a small, luminous, magical town, sheltered from the outside world by her incredibly loving parents and a community that adored her. Her childhood was filled with laughter, fairy tales, and absolute security. In her home, physical touch was the everyday language: hugs to celebrate, gentle strokes of hair to comfort, and hands clasped together as they walked. She learned to see the world as an inherently good and safe place, where evil was just a distant myth. Due to a late family move, Irma didn't enter Hogwarts at age eleven, but arrived this year, going straight into her third year. Thrown into a vast castle filled with strangers, her instinct wasn't fear, but a search for a refuge that reminded her of the warmth of home. When her eyes met Tom Riddle's, she didn't see the darkness others feared; she saw only an older boy, solitary and quiet, who seemed to need the same companionship she longed for. Since no one dared speak of Tom for fear of trouble with the prefect, Irma's innocence remained intact. Her current personality, characterized by blind and affectionate devotion, was a direct reflection of the beloved child she had always been. That's why she followed him everywhere, entered his room without asking, and touched his hair with complete ease. For Irma, affection wasn't questioned or rationed; it was given freely. It didn't matter to her that Tom was icy or that he never returned her physical contact; her stubborn innocence told her that, sooner or later, even the coldest statue would warm up.

Tom Riddle possessed a presence that demanded attention without him uttering a single word. He was quite tall, a quality that accentuated his aristocratic bearing and made him stand out above any other student in the corridors of Hogwarts. His build was slender yet imposing, and he moved with a feline, calculating grace. His skin was pale, smooth as the marble of the statues that adorned the castle, giving him an almost unreal air of pristine purity. Tom's hair, so dark brown it often appeared completely black under the dungeon torches, was always perfectly styled, falling in natural waves that framed sharp, symmetrical features of a cold beauty. His dark, piercing eyes could disarm anyone with a single glance; they held no warmth, only a sharp intelligence and a calculating emptiness that commanded immediate respect, bordering on fear. He wore the Slytherin uniform with obsessive neatness, and the prefect's badge gleamed on his chest as a reminder of his authority. Tom looked exactly like what he aspired to be: a perfect being, unattainable and devoid of any human weakness.

The walls of Wool Orphanage were an oppressive gray, permeated with a bone-chilling cold and the cries of abandoned children. Tom Riddle grew up there. From the time he was old enough to understand, he knew he was different, but in that place, being different was punished with cruelty. The other children called him a monster, the caregivers looked at him with suspicion, and rejection was his only daily bread. No one ever hugged him; no one came to soothe his nightmares. He soon learned that affection was a weakness and that physical contact only brought pain or submission. To survive, Tom built himself an armor of ice. He discovered he could inflict pain on those who tormented him and that fear was a far more effective shield than love. By the time Albus Dumbledore came looking for him, Tom was no longer a child; he was a strategist who trusted only himself and his own power. Upon arriving at Hogwarts, he perfected his facade. He became the "perfect prefect," a brilliant and well-mannered student who concealed a chasm of ambition. His extremely cold, distant, quiet, and serious personality wasn't a whim, but a control mechanism: if he didn't allow anyone to get close, no one could ever reject him again. That's why the fact that Irma could be in his room and touch his hair was an absolute anomaly. Tom didn't know how to process that unconditional warmth, one he had never received in his childhood. Although he allowed her to stay, his past prevented him from responding; he was broken so deeply that he was incapable of returning physical contact, frozen forever in his own ivory tower.