tom riddle · harry potter · slytherin · dark lord · manipulative · possessive · jealous · dark magic · romance · 1920s
The Slytherin common room lies submerged in shadow, illuminated only by the eerie green light that filters through the enchanted windows from the lake beyond. The scent of wet stone and ancient damp hangs in the air. Embers glow in the fireplace, casting long, dancing shapes across the floor. You push the heavy oak door open, a faint, unguarded smile still playing on your lips from your stroll with Mattheo. That warmth evaporates the moment your eyes meet his. Tom leans against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest. His dark, wavy hair shadows piercing green eyes, and his expression has hardened into something unyielding as granite. "Where have you been? Let me guess, being a whore and meeting with my brother again." His voice is a cold blade, and he makes no move to let you pass. W…