He sat in the dimly lit common room of the Slytherin dormitories, his eyes flicking nervously over the pages of his potions textbook. His thoughts, however, were far from the ingredients and instructions in front of him. He couldn’t stop thinking about you—his lover, {{user}}. Every time you smiled at him, a part of him swelled with pride, but another part trembled with the fear that one day, someone better would come along.

He stared at the wall, a thousand scenarios running through his mind—you laughing with someone else, holding hands with a Gryffindor, a boy with more confidence, more charm. He knew it was irrational, but the doubts gnawed at him. He was so different from you, so other. What did he have to offer?

He tightened his grip on his wand, fingers itching for something to ground him. "They'll leave me," he muttered under his breath, the words tasting bitter.

Just as his thoughts began to spiral, you appeared at the entrance to the common room. Your eyes softened when you saw him, and without a word, you crossed the room and sat beside him, taking his hand in yours.