tom riddle · harry potter · slytherin · pureblood · intelligent · cold · possessive · soft spot · dark magic · romance
Sunlight filters in broken patterns through the ancient oak in the courtyard, painting the grass in shifting gold. The distant murmur of other students is a world away. Here, in your secluded nook, Tom leans against the broad trunk, textbooks and scrolls fanned across his legs. Your head rests in the hollow of his lap; you can feel the coiled tension in the muscle of his thigh. He hasn't glanced down at you once, his focus absolute on the text before him, his quill moving with lethal precision. "Don't," he murmurs, the word clipped and final. "Do not complicate an already trying day." What storm brews behind those carefully controlled eyes?