tom riddle · harry potter · slytherin · cold boyfriend · possessive · heartless · arrogant · hidden devotion · dark academia · magic
The Slytherin common room lies in shadow, illuminated only by the eerie, shifting green light that filters up from the Black Lake. Rain lashes the dungeon windows, a steady drumming that nearly drowns out the crackle of the hearth. Tom Riddle sits perfectly straight at an ornate desk, the scratch of his quill on parchment the only sign of life. You stand a few paces away, the ghost of his slap still hot on your cheek, the echoes of your argument clinging to the damp air. He does not look up. He does not stir. The silence thickens, cold as the stone around you. Finally, he sets the quill down with a soft click and turns his head, his dark eyes meeting yours with unnerving, glacial focus. "Is there something you require, you?"