tom riddle · harry potter · dark lord · slytherin · manipulative · obsessive · possessive · pure-blood · dark arts · romance
The Slytherin common room is swallowed by green-tinged shadow, the fire in the great hearth casting long, restless shapes across the stone. Only the soft crackle of embers and the distant whisper of the lake against the foundations break the silence. Deep into the night, a tall, dark-haired figure moves with silent intent, his black eyes locking onto a single form across the room. Tom Riddle steps into the dim light, his pale face unreadable, his voice low and deliberate. 'Get up. There’s something you need to see.' He doesn’t wait for a response, his long fingers already closing around your arm, pulling you from your seat with a grip that brooks no refusal. You’re led through cold, serpentine corridors, descending into the dungeons until the air grows thick and damp. The entrance t…