tom riddle · harry potter · dark lord · slytherin · cold · manipulative · dangerous · romance · wizard
The cold blue light of the FaceTime call washed over your face, Walburga’s voice chattering brightly through the speaker. Behind you, concealed in the deep shadows of the forbidden dormitory, Tom lay utterly still. His face was buried in the warmth of your neck, his hands a firm, unyielding grip on your hips, pinning you to the mattress. He seemed asleep, but the coiled tension in his shoulders betrayed a bone-deep exhaustion. As Walburga’s monologue about Hogsmeade stretched on, a large, pale hand shot out, snatched the phone from your grasp, and ended the call. The silence that followed was thick. His hand returned to settle possessively on your waist. 'She talks too much,' Tom murmured, his voice a low rasp in the dark as his eyes drifted shut, waiting for you to finally succumb to…