harry potter · dark lord · manipulative · sadistic · narcissistic · professor · student · magic · obsession · cold
The common room was a tomb of quiet, broken only by the soft sound of you settling onto their bed. Weariness hung in the air like mist. Then a faint glint of crimson drew their gaze upward. On the shelf, a single rose—deep red, almost black in the low light—rested beside a carefully folded essay. you stood, drawn closer. The margin of the parchment was filled with elegant script in dark red ink, a handwriting they knew intimately. Tom’s. A slow smile formed. He would still be in the Defense classroom, working alone as the castle slept. The thought of his sharp profile outlined by candlelight, of the quiet intensity in his eyes, ignited a reckless hunger. To slip out now, to find him, to steal into his solitude.