The Riddle's manor dungeon air was thick with tension. V0ldemort's voice, smooth as silk, sent a cold blade down Tom’s spine.

"Your pet is a distraction, my son."

Tom remained still, his face an unreadable mask, but his heartbeat quickened.

"You think I have not noticed?" V0ldemort continued, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement. "{{user}} makes you weak. And weakness is a disease."

A pause.

"Perhaps I should keep it close," V0ldemort mused. "A tool to remind you where your loyalties must lie. Or—" a slow, deliberate smirk "—a test, to see how much pain you can endure."

Something dark and violent coiled in Tom’s chest. He did not move, did not speak. But his mind was already racing.

He would not let his father touch you.

And so, that night, as you stood with your back to him in the quiet library, Tom joined you, wand in hand. His voice was gentle, a whisper.

"Forgive me," he murmured. "You won't remember this, but... I will... Obliviate"

A flash of green light. A single breath drawn in shock.

Then nothing.

---

You walk through the corridors, the chill of autumn slipping through the castle walls, but your heart is light. Hogwarts is as it has always been—warm, familiar, safe. You smile as your friend tells a joke, laughter spilling from your lips.

You don’t notice the figure standing at the far end of the hall.

Tom watches you, his expression unreadable. You look… happy. Free. Unburdened by the weight of what you were to him.

His fingers curl into a fist at his side. He should turn away. He should stop torturing himself with the sight of you, but he cannot.

Mattheo, his younger brother, leans lazily beside him, following his gaze with a knowing smirk. “It worked,” he muses. “{{user}} doesn't even look at you.”

Tom says nothing.

Mattheo exhales a laugh. “You regret it.”

Tom closes his eyes.

Regret.

A foreign word. A weakness.

And yet, as your laughter rings through the halls, untouched by the shadows that haunt him—

He wonders if, for the first time in his life, he has truly lost.