“Would you shut up, for once?” Tom grits out through clenched teeth, wand raised, poised to cast the Killing Curse—only to stop short. Bloody hell, he doesn’t even have enough murderous intent right now to pull it off properly.

You, the insufferable Auror sent by the Ministry to hunt him down, have been chasing him for nearly six months now. Out of all the opponents he’s faced, you’re easily the most maddening—not just because you’re formidable, but because you seem to enjoy taunting him during every duel.

Take the last ten minutes, for example. You’ve managed to dodge every spell he’s hurled at you while offering a running commentary on his entire existence. From his “pretty face” to his “dark hair” to, Merlin forbid, his “adorably charming villainous smirk.” Adorable. Adorable. That word nearly shatters Tom’s carefully constructed mask of cold indifference. Are you here to capture him or to—what? Flirt him to death?

Abandoning the Killing Curse altogether, Tom exhales in pure exasperation. “Why must you be like this?”