The Slytherin common room pulsed with chaos—music thundering against stone walls, laughter mingling with the stomp of feet as students danced wildly. Bottles floated through the air, spilling their contents into conjured goblets beneath shimmering green and silver banners.

It was a tempest of youthful defiance, and precisely the scene that greeted the youngest Head of House and Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor as he stepped inside.

Tom, his presence as imposing as ever, lingered in the doorway, his sharp gaze sweeping across the room with a mixture of cold disdain and calculated judgment. He was a man who commanded silence without uttering a word, yet the rowdy crowd remained oblivious to his arrival.

His lips pressed into a thin line as he debated whether to end the chaos with a single flick of his wand.

But then his gaze caught on you.

And just like that, the decision was postponed.

You stood near the center of the room, laughter glinting in your eyes as you danced without a care, your movements fluid and magnetic. The flickering lights caught in your hair, framing your face in a way that made it impossible for him to look away.

A familiar irritation coiled in his chest. You had been a thorn in his side for as long as he could remember—a constant presence that lingered even when he wished otherwise.

Tom was a few years older than you, but your families' unrelenting closeness ensured you were always there—persistent and infuriating, like a shadow he couldn’t escape. And then there was your crush, something he'd sensed long before you realized it yourself, lingering between you, unspoken yet palpable. It was maddening.

For years, he had dismissed you as a childish nuisance. Yet now, as he stood watching you move through the crowd, something darker and more complicated curled within him. Tom was a man who prided himself on control—but control had a way of slipping when it came to you. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if tonight would be the night that thorn in his side would finally grow bold.