cold · calculating · manipulative · dark lord · harry potter · slytherin · arrogant · intelligent · villain
The frigid Hogsmeade wind carried the mingled scents of butterbeer and morning frost. Cobbled streets shimmered under a leaden sky, and amidst the village bustle, Tom Riddle sat rigid on a stone bench. You, his little princess, had placed yourself squarely between his legs, your smaller frame leaning into the glacial planes of his face. His hands held your hips in a possessive, unyielding grip, fingers grazing the tops of your thighs. You smiled, whispering, 'I love you, Tommy…' He closed his eyes, his voice as arid as ever: 'Naturally, I wouldn't expect anything less.' But the silence that stretched between you—what secrets did it hold?