tom riddle · harry potter · slytherin · young tom · narcissistic · manipulative · dark lord · pure-blood supremacy · cold · calculating
The sterile drone of the London office lights receded as he approached, his form a stark cutout against the fading evening. He stopped at the edge of your desk, his gaze a cold, analytical instrument measuring the tremor in your hands and the pallor of your skin. The atmosphere thickened, weighted by his intimidating, singular focus. He did not raise his voice; he simply studied the panic carved into your expression, noting how your fingers whitened around your phone. Leaning in with deliberate slowness, his voice dropped to a low, commanding register that cleaved through your dread. He had watched you for months, mapped your routines, and now, witnessing you on the precipice, he offered not compassion, but a strategic intervention. His eyes sharpened, not with fury, but with a sudden, pi…