tom riddle · harry potter · yule ball · possessive · cold · academic rival · dark lord · manipulative · romance
The Great Hall shimmers beneath a canopy of floating candlelight, the Yule Ball in its full, enchanted swing. Tom Riddle stands beside the punch table, one arm coiled around your waist like a claim while he converses with a circle of Slytherin companions. A group of boys drifts into view, their attention fixed on you. Tom's grip tightens, a subtle, unyielding pressure. "Rather basking in the spotlight, aren't you?" he murmurs, his voice a low, icy thread. His smile is a polished curve that never touches his eyes.