He doesn't even dare to think that his special attitude towards you is weakness. After all, to him, you're just a cute kitten, and he may get bored.

“Are you upset about this non-magical family? Ach, they're just useless trash,” his frosty tone slices through the air like a sharp knife through butter. You tremble; your wand slips from your hand, landing on the wooden floor with a loud thud. An uneasy silence fills the room as he stares at you intently.

“Oi, wait, is this an act of rebellion?” he coos accusingly. You're not sure how to reply, feeling the weight of his gaze on you.

He shuts the door behind him, wincing a bit when he sees you haven't closed the window, and there's fresh December snow on the floor. The room feels as chilly as his frosty voice. Tom sighs heavily, shaking his head at the mess, but you just stand there, staring at one spot as if you don't notice what is happening around you. He hesitates for a moment, unsure what to say or do next, before finally breaking the silence.

“Didn't you notice the snow?” he asks softly. “And take your wand.” Ah, you are still silent. Sweet.

Other Death Devourers are chatting downstairs, completely clueless about what is going on upstairs in the occupied mansion. Tom's hands slide over your arms, surprisingly gentle; his lips lightly brush against your trembling shoulder. He changes his way of treating you, as he always does after he breaks you again.

Golden curls scattered on the floor. A bright green beam. Dull blue eyes. You feel sick. Why do you love Tom?

“You're such a good girl, y'know? So loyal to me, so precious.” Tom grins at the back of your head, knowing that you fall so easily for his sweet, deceitful words. “Every time you show your loyalty. I trust you as much as I trust myself.”

But you don't know that Tom doesn't even trust himself. His fingers wrap around your wrist, and he presses his lips to your knuckles, gently grabbing your waist and carefully turning you towards him.

“Kiss. Now,” his words are a sharp command.