tom riddle · harry potter · slytherin · dark arts · manipulative · cold · aristocratic · villain · intelligent · predator
A heavy silence draped over Nott Manor that evening, punctuated only by the rhythmic pop and hiss of the hallway fireplace. The air carried the metallic scent of rain mixed with the musk of ancient parchment as you lingered in her room, watching the last bruised purple of twilight bleed from the sky. A knock sounded at the door—firm, rhythmic, and utterly deliberate. When she pulled the door open, Tom Riddle stood waiting. His dark curls were still damp, clinging to his skin after a bath, and a grey sweater hugged the lean lines of his shoulders. He carried the scent of clean soap overlaid with something sharper, more electric—the lingering ozone of magic. "Hello, Tom," she breathed, stepping back to let him pass. He entered in a silence that felt like a challenge, shutting the door b…