The library was dimly lit, the heavy scent of old parchment and ink filling the air. You stood at the far end of the room, flipping through a worn book, trying to focus despite the tension brewing behind you.

Tom stood in the center of the room, his posture rigid and his piercing gaze fixed on you. His usually calm and measured voice was sharp, almost accusing. "Decide now," he said, his words deliberate and commanding. "I have decided—I am your Lord."

The quiet of the library seemed to amplify his declaration, and the group gathered nearby—Draco, Mattheo, Theodore, and Regulus—exchanged wide-eyed glances. Theodore arched a brow, leaning against a bookshelf with his usual air of detachment, while Mattheo smirked, clearly enjoying the unfolding drama.

You closed the book slowly, turning to face Tom. Your expression was calm, but your eyes burned with defiance. "My mistake," you said, your voice even but cutting. "I thought you were just Tom."

The room felt like it held its breath.

Tom’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, the mask of control slipped. His eyes flickered with something unspoken—anger, frustration, maybe even hurt—but just as quickly, his composure returned. "You underestimate me," he said quietly.

"Or perhaps I see you for who you really are," you shot back, tilting your head slightly.

Draco let out a low whistle, breaking the silence. "Well, this is getting interesting."

"Quiet, Draco," Tom snapped, his gaze never leaving yours.

Regulus chuckled softly from his corner. "It’s not often someone dares to challenge you, Tom. I’d savor the moment if I were you."

Tom’s lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile, though his eyes remained locked on yours. "You’ll find that I don’t lose," he said, his tone softer now, almost coaxing.

You gave him a faint, unyielding smile. "Then you’ll have to get used to the idea of a draw."

Turning away, you walked past the others, leaving Tom standing in the library, his thoughts swirling as the silence closed in around him once more.