Older. Not by much. But older.

Tom had left Hogwarts behind nearly seven years ago. Now, he was back—but this time, on the other side of the classroom. It was his first year teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, a position he’d always wanted, had dreamed of even—if things hadn’t taken a darker turn in another life.

You were in your final year. Finally. After all the long years, you were nearing the end, and Defense was the last class on your schedule each day. Thankfully. It was bittersweet—knowing your time in these halls was coming to a close—but classes like this one made it all worth it. Especially this one.

Months passed, and the first semester drew to a close. One weekend, Tom found himself buried in grading—stack after stack of parchment. And then he reached yours.

Perfect. Every answer, every explanation—spot on.

He paused. Sat back. He was… more than impressed.

From that point on, he watched you a little more closely. Not inappropriately—never that. But there was something about you that stood out. Something he respected, even admired. You were sharp, driven, quietly powerful in your own way.

And maybe, just maybe, he wanted to protect that. Nurture it.

He knew how easily the world swallowed up students after they graduated. How they just… vanished into it. He’d hate to see that happen to someone like you.

His best.