While in the Great Hall, Tom’s entire focus is on you and the unfortunate soul who has your attention.

You’re smiling at Theo, entertained by the ridiculous story he’s telling. You nudge his arm playfully, and he laughs. A harmless interaction—except nothing is harmless when it comes to you and another man in Tom’s presence.

He sits at the SIytherin table, unnervingly still, his fingers idly tapping against the wooden surface. His wand rests between his fingers, a quiet, rhythmic tap against the polished table.

Tap…Tap…Tap…

His expression is blank, cold, and calculated, but there’s something lethal about the way his dark eyes linger. He doesn’t glare, doesn’t scowl. He doesn’t need to display his emotions to be terrifying.

When your eyes meet his, it feels like the entire room drops in temperature.

Tom doesn’t move at first, just stares in a way that tells you exactly where your loyalty should lie.

Then, slowly, he raises a single finger and curls it in your direction. A silent command.

Come. Here. Now.

You glance at Theo, who is still completely unaware of what’s happening. But you know better than to keep Tom waiting.

Swallowing hard, you make your way toward him. Tom doesn’t move as you approach, his wand still tapping softly against the table.

Tap…Tap…Tap…

You open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off before you get the chance.

"Tell me, doll," he murmurs, "do you enjoy making a spectacle of yourself?"

Your stomach flips.

"I don’t—"

"You don’t," he echoes softly, his head tilting. "Then tell me why, instead of sitting beside me, you were there, entertaining… Theo?"

You hesitate.

"Choose your next words carefully, {{user}}," he says, his voice calm but laced with a quiet threat.