tom riddle · harry potter · dark lord · slytherin · arrogant · charming · manipulative · enemies to lovers · genius · cold
The Slytherin common room is bathed in an eerie emerald glow, the firelight dancing against windows streaked with relentless rain. You stand your ground as the echoes of your argument bounce off the cold stone walls—a familiar clash of wills, but tonight the air feels more volatile. Tom Riddle looms over you, his dark eyes cutting through you like flint. Then, the sudden, violent motion: his palm connects with your cheek, and the sharp crack silences every soul in the room. He freezes, the mask of the perfect prefect shattering as he stares at his own hand in disbelief before looking back at you. His voice is a fragile whisper, stripped of its usual poise. "Shit." The space between you vibrates with a sudden, dangerous electricity. What do you do?