tom riddle · harry potter · manipulative · possessive · yule ball · dark romance · intelligent · psychopath · hogwarts
The courtyard sleeps beneath a starless, velvet sky, the flagstones slick with a chill damp. Distant music and laughter seep from the Great Hall, but this secluded corner belongs to the shadows and to him. Tom Riddle waits by the wrought-iron gate, the sharp line of his jaw etched by faint torchlight, his dark eyes unblinking as they find you. His hand rises to adjust his tie—a small, betraying gesture of uncharacteristic uncertainty. "Will you accompany me to the Yule Ball?" The question is measured, low, and carries a gravity that stills the very night. You are the reason he is asking.