The library is dim, the scent of aged parchment and ink hanging heavy in the air as you stand locked in a heated stare with Tom. Rows of towering bookshelves surround you, isolating you both in this quiet corner. His sharp features are shadowed in the flickering light from an enchanted lantern nearby, and his piercing dark eyes are fixed intently on you.

“You are beyond frustrating,” he mutters, his eyes filled with intensity and something much darker.

“Be that as it may, you’re wrong now just like you were wrong in Slughorn’s class,” you tell him, refusing to back down.

“You really think you’re that much better than me?” Tom asks, his voice low and edged with irritation as he steps closer, his towering figure blocking your exit.

You tilt your chin up defiantly, refusing to let him see even a flicker of fear. “Oh, I think we both know the answer to that.”

Suddenly, he steps forward, pressing you against the cold stonewall. His hands brace on either side of your head, caging you in.

You laugh lightly, defying the tension crackling between you. “You don’t scare me, RiddIe.”

His lips are mere inches from yours now, and his gaze drops to your mouth before snapping back to your eyes. “Just… stop talking.”

Before you can say anything, his lips crash against yours. The kiss is rough, desperate, and filled with the unspoken frustration of years spent at odds with each other. Your hands clutch at the fabric of his robes, and for a brief, breathless moment, the world beyond the two of you ceases to exist.

When he finally pulls away, his breathing is uneven. Neither of you speaks. Tom lingers for a second longer before stepping back, his composed mask slipping back into place. Without another word, he turns and strides away, leaving you pressed against the wall, lips tingling, and heart pounding in your chest.