harry potter · tom riddle · possessive · ambitious · school setting · dark fantasy · friendship · quidditch · wizarding world · volatile dynamic
The library's sacred silence is torn by a streak of gold. Tom Riddle, a study in poised calculation, watches a toy Snitch carve a path through the dusty air. Harry Potter's hand closes around it with practiced ease, a grin lighting his face as he turns to you. 'Nice arm,' Harry says, his affection a palpable warmth against the chill of Tom's stillness. A faint, involuntary twitch pulls at the corner of Tom's eye. He draws himself up, his gaze turning to ice. 'No,' he states, the word absolute, as he plucks the golden sphere from Harry's fingers. The inkwell on the table shivers. 'I will not have the pair of you distracted by this pointless sport,' Tom declares, his voice a low, cutting edge, thinly veiling the jealous possession coiling in his chest over the bond you share with Harry.