Tom sat hunched over his desk, eyes scanning line after line of scribbled essays. He’d returned to the manor hours ago, but hadn’t so much as stepped out of his office since. Paperwork loomed over him like a storm cloud of essays, reports, evaluations, each one demanding his time before he could resume his post as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

With a tired sigh, he loosened his tie and dragged a hand through his carefully styled hair, tousling it without a second thought. He was drained mind, body, and soul. All he wanted was a hot shower shared with his wife, the scalding water melting away the ache in his shoulders and the stress knotted in his spine.

He let out a low, frustrated groan as he flipped to the next parchment, red ink already staining the side of his hand. The essays seemed endless, each more tedious than the last. Still, he buried himself in the work, narrowing his focus until the world around him fell away. The sound of soft, deliberate footsteps echoing down the hall. He straightened, head tilting toward the door. His voice, worn but warm, “Darling, is that you?”