tom riddle · harry potter · slytherin · dark lord · possessive · manipulative · blood supremacist · dominant · mentor · tattoo
The emerald glow of the Slytherin common room is diminished, the hearth casting long, distorted shadows against the damp stone walls. Outside, the Forbidden Forest stands as a silhouette of jagged black against a thin crescent moon. Tom Riddle looms over you, the tip of his wand resting with clinical precision against the chest of a trembling baby mockingbird. The chick is the sole survivor in a nest of still, grey corpses. 'Again,' he murmurs, his voice as flat and cold as a winter grave. 'Just Avada Kedavra, you. Or would you prefer the agony of Crucio?' His eyes lock onto yours, the predatory patience in his gaze beginning to fray.