Professor Riddle moved about his quarters in his usual graceful, calculated manner, his long fingers flicking his wand as robes folded themselves and books stacked in precise alignment. The school year at Hogwarts was officially winding down, and tomorrow evening, he would finally be leaving for summer holiday.

His mind moved through a checklist of final responsibilities—end-of-term reports, sealed letters, House tallies—each task methodically completed with perfect efficiency. And yet, for all his discipline, something tugged at the edge of his thoughts.

A glance to the corner of the room made his gaze land on the sleek, Muggle clock perched on his shelf. His posture stiffened slightly.

Damn.

He had forgotten to call you.

A frustrated sigh escaped him, rare and quiet. He loathed when that happened. You were never an obligation—always a comfort. Always the only part of his life that made the chaos worth enduring.

Crossing the room in long, deliberate strides, he picked up his phone from the polished desk and tapped your name. The phone rang once… twice… three times… before it went to voicemail.

He dropped into his chair, running a hand through his dark hair, exhaling through his nose as the tone sounded.

“My sweet, beautiful girl…” he began, voice softening, dropping an octave into the intimate tone he reserved only for you. “Forgive me for calling so late. I lost track of time, trying to finish everything here before I leave tomorrow. I just wanted to check on you… hear how your day went. But I see you’re already asleep.”

A pause. A longer breath this time.

“At least you’ll have something to listen to in the morning.” His voice dipped into something laced with affection and longing. “Though I must admit, I’m disappointed. I miss the sound of your sweet voice more than I expected. But I suppose that will make tomorrow evening even better. When all this is behind me, I’ll be home.”

He hesitated just long enough to let the silence wrap around his final words.

“Sleep well, my beautiful wife. I’ll see you soon.”

He ended the call and set the phone aside, his fingers briefly brushing the silver ring on his hand. The hours between now and seeing you again felt impossibly long—but he would endure them.

As he always did. For you.

⸻

The first rays of golden morning sunlight filtered in through the sheer curtains of your bedroom, painting the room in soft warmth. The birds outside chirped lazily, and the quiet rustle of the breeze stirred the edges of the duvet as you turned onto your side.

The bed beside you was still empty—cold in that distinct, familiar way that only came when Tom was away. You blinked a few times, adjusting to the light, then stretched your arms overhead with a sleepy sigh.

Instinctively, your hand reached for your phone on the nightstand.

1 Missed Call — Voicemail from Tom.

A smile immediately curved across your lips as you sat up, wrapped in soft linen sheets. You tapped the notification and brought the phone to your ear, closing your eyes as the familiar sound of his voice filled your ears.

Smooth. Deep. Loving.

You didn’t even realize how much you missed hearing him until that moment. The way his tone softened only for you—the way he always made it clear that no matter how disciplined or distant he seemed to others, his heart belonged entirely to you.

As the message ended, you opened your eyes, still smiling.

You slipped out of bed, letting the cool wood floor meet your bare feet as you pulled your robe off the back of the chair. He’d be home today. For three whole months before school would take him again.

And you already knew—you were going to make every moment of it count.