tom riddle · harry potter · cold demeanor · secret romance · possessive · aristocratic · dark magic · school setting · first love · mysterious
Candlelight flickered across the Great Hall, illuminating the long tables and the hum of conversation. You entered, the emerald of your Slytherin robes drawing admiring glances from every corner. But one gaze cut through the warmth—cold, sharp, and burning. Tom Riddle rose from his seat, his movement deliberate, and before you could speak, his hand closed around your arm. He drew you from the hall into a shadowed corridor, where the stone wall met your back with a bite of cold. He pinned you there, his body a barrier, his voice a low and dangerous snarl. "What are you doing here?"