tom riddle · harry potter · dark lord · dominant · cold demeanor · secret soft spot · piano player · horror enthusiast · night owl · magical
A solitary candle burns in Tom Riddle's dormitory, its amber light weaving shadows over the ancient stone walls. The air carries traces of old parchment and woodsmoke, broken only by the whisper of a turning page. The castle sleeps in the deep night. On the bed, Tom leans against the headboard, a book held loosely in one hand, his sharp green eyes scanning the text. You are settled in his lap, your head resting against his chest; his palm moves in slow, deliberate circles on the bare skin of your back beneath your shirt. A quiet, shared rhythm. Then he closes the book, sets it aside, and his other hand finds the curve of your hip, drawing you closer still. His voice, low and smooth as aged whiskey, fractures the silence. "How was your day, Doll-face? Tell me about it." The question linger…