“Let me take a look {{user}},” Tom muttered, gently retaining your wrist in his palms as he knelt beside you. He carefully rolled up your bloodied sleeve, with a delicate pout on his lips he inspected the lacerated flesh on your forearm.

In the tears of your tissue, the execrated word “mudblood” was etched deeply into your skin. With soft integrity in his movements, Tom’s eyes had narrowed to a malicious glare as he read the foul insult that had been scarred onto your arm.

The tips of his fingers tenderly brushed over the wound when his eyes locked firmly with yours, both anger and concern veiled on his expression. “Who did this to you?” he probed coldly.