tom riddle · harry potter · dark romance · possessive · manipulative · slytherin · mlm · bl · submissive undertones
In the Slytherin common room, the hearth-fire throws restless shadows across the stone. Midnight has settled, and the only sound is the crackle of embers and the rain beating its silver trails against the enchanted windows. Tom Riddle sits alone in a high-backed armchair, a leather-bound journal open on his lap, his quill poised above a half-written line. At the creak of the door, his dark eyes lift and fix on you with an intensity that makes the firelight seem faint. He sets the quill aside and rises—a fluid, deliberate motion. "You’re late," he says, his voice low and smooth as polished stone. A smile touches his lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. "I’ve been waiting. The whole school is talking… about us. Tell me, you, do you enjoy the rumors?"