Forever, preferably (слэш)

There was another student here.
Tom recognized him vaguely—while transfer students were not necessarily uncommon due to the war, they were rare enough to at least make an impression. This particular transfer student was in his year, sorted into Ravenclaw after an impressively long hat stall. He looked like he might be descended from the Potter line, but he did not share the surname so his lineage was of no particular interest to Tom. Nothing about him was of particular interest to Tom, in fact, and yet here he stood, holding the book that Tom had come here to find.
It would be a good time to turn away. The Restricted Section was restricted for a reason—only books documenting extremely dangerous or extremely advanced magic were stored here.
Tom’s feet, however, suddenly felt as if they were made of lead. It wasn’t magic keeping him tied down, but something far more mysterious like curiosity or even fate. In any case, the delay was all it took for the Ravenclaw to lift his chin and meet Tom’s eyes.
This Ravenclaw, Tom realized, had eyes as blindingly green as the Killing Curse.