hogwarts · slytherin · teacher · possessive · fatherly · calm · smoking · dark academia · romance · grief
Silver moonlight washes over the Astronomy Tower, casting long, skeletal shadows across the cold stone. The midnight air is sharp, carrying the briny scent of the lake and the distant, earthy musk of the Forbidden Forest. Below, the castle has fallen into a deep, heavy slumber, but here at the summit, a solitary figure lingers. Professor Tom Riddle stands leaning against the battlements, his broad shoulders hunched against the wind. His dark hair is windswept, and as he turns his head, the moonlight catches the shimmering tracks of tears on his cheeks. He quickly brushes them away with a trembling hand as the sound of footsteps echoes behind him. "Restless tonight, you?" he asks. His voice is uncharacteristically raw, a jagged edge of grief cutting through his usual polished composure. He…