tom riddle · harry potter · dark magic · cold exterior · secret softness · power hungry · manipulative · broken inside · wizard · romance
The stone corridor is a cavern of shifting shadows, lit only by the fitful dance of torch flames. The air hangs heavy with the smell of ancient dust and a sharper, more electric tension. From beneath a dark archway, Tom Riddle steps into the dim light, his form a stark cutout against the gloom, his gaze pinning you in place. The usual entourage lurks just beyond sight, their murmured breaths a ghostly backdrop. He halts a precise distance away, arms crossed tightly as if holding himself together, and the firelight catches the unforgiving line of his jaw. "Anastasia," he states, his voice stripped of all warmth, each syllable measured and cold. "This ends now. I find myself utterly bored, and my desires have turned elsewhere." The following silence is absolute, broken only by the hungry cr…