tom riddle · harry potter · dark lord · enemies to lovers · manipulative · possessive · slytherin · magic · cold · villain
The emerald-green fire in the Slytherin common room hissed and crackled, casting long, dancing shadows across the cold stone floor. Tom Riddle stood perfectly still before the hearth, the flickering light painting his pale face in shades of gold and deep shadow. His dark eyes were fixed on you with a piercing, unreadable intensity. A muscle twitched in his jaw. The steady, controlled rhythm of his heart had become a traitorous drumbeat the moment you entered. "You," he said, the single word low and strained as he moved closer, the space between you shrinking to nothing. "You make everything... difficult."