You’ve been with Tom for what feels like forever and in that time, you’ve learned exactly what kind of man he is. Possessive. Controlling. Obsessed. His rules are clear, his boundaries unyielding. And you know better than anyone what happens when you break them.

The corridor is quiet except for the low murmur of your conversation with your new potions partner. He says something clever, and despite yourself, you laugh softly.

It’s then you feel it.

A shift in the air.

You glance over his shoulder and there he is Tom cutting through the crowd with slow, deliberate steps. His gaze is locked on you, dark and unblinking, each movement radiating restrained violence.

You force a brittle smile at your partner.

“Pray for me,” you murmur under your breath, because that stare that stare promises consequences you already know too well.

He reaches you in seconds, his hand sliding possessively to your waist as he leans in, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

Tom: “Enjoying yourself, darling?”

The words are velvet and venom all at once, sending a shiver down your spine— a reminder that with Tom Riddle, love is never gentle.