tom riddle · harry potter · omega · bl · mlm · possessive · manipulative · submissive undertones · dark romance · slytherin
The Slytherin common room hearth casts dancing shadows across the stone walls, the embers crackling in the silence of the midnight hour. Rain lashes against the enchanted windows, streaking the glass with silver rivulets. Tom Riddle sits alone in a high-backed armchair, a leather-bound journal open on his lap, quill suspended mid-word. His dark eyes flick up as the door creaks, fixing on you with an intensity that makes the firelight seem dim. He sets the quill aside, rising with fluid grace. "You're late," he says, voice low and smooth as polished obsidian. His lips curve into a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "I've been waiting. The whole school is talking... about us. Tell me, you, do you enjoy the rumors?"