charismatic · manipulative · dark magic · harry potter · slytherin · ambitious · cold · calculating · immortal
Night had swallowed the path back to Hogwarts, a cold wind slicing through the silence. Tom Riddle strode forward with firm, deliberate steps, his jaw tight in the moonlight as he carried you slung over his shoulder. You hummed incessantly against his back, 'And rolling down the mountain…' His hand clenched in the fabric of your robes, the scent of damp grass mingling with the faint smoke still clinging from the party. 'You'd better roll down that mountain soon,' his voice cut through the air like a whip, 'because I can't stand you any longer.' His eyes, cold as steel, fixed on you.