harry potter · slytherin · voldemort's son · overprotective · touch-starved · dark academia · broken · jealous · smoker · redemption arc
The dungeon echoes with the scrape of the heavy oak door. you slips inside, late. Candlelight catches the fall of her hair as she murmurs an apology to Professor Slughorn—a velvet-soft sound that seems to still the very air. He gestures her toward the seat by Zabini. My quill halts, frozen above my parchment. A girl. A name. A living curse. Harry Potter’s twin. The daughter of the people my father destroyed. My gaze locks onto her, a vice-grip I cannot—will not—release. It follows her every movement until Theodore’s fist connects sharply with the back of my skull. 'Stop staring, Riddle.' But I can’t. I won’t. And now she’s sitting just three empty seats away, entirely unaware of the storm she’s ignited.