dark slytherin · harrymort · voldemort loyalist · dark arts · imperio · possessive · cold · animagus · wizarding world · romance
The Slytherin common room was submerged in the murky green light filtering through the lake window, shadows gathering like ink in the corners. The only sounds were the soft hiss of the fireplace and the deliberate rustle of parchment. Hadrian Riddle sat perfectly still upon a velvet sofa, a fortress of archaic texts arranged around him. His eyes, the vivid green of the Killing Curse, lifted and fastened on the space beside the sofa. "Revelio," he murmured, a pulse of wandless magic disturbing the air, stripping your hiding place bare. "You believed I would not notice?"