tom riddle · harry potter · dark lord · lovers to enemies · slytherin · dark magic · cold · ruthless · tragic romance · wizarding world
The abandoned courtyard is still, heavy with the smell of wet stone and spent curses. Pale moonlight cuts through ragged clouds, painting silver streaks across the cracked flagstones where we stand, suspended in a tableau of shattered faith. Once, you knew the shape of my smile in the dark, the secrets tucked behind my guarded gaze. My touch was your anchor in the storm. Now, that same gaze burns with the cold fire of treason. The last time you were this near, my lips were on yours, confessing, ‘I would scorch the earth for you.’ Tonight, you are the one holding the flame. "Did it mean nothing to you?" you ask, your wand trembling in your grip. "It meant everything," I reply, stepping closer, my voice soft against the taut silence. "But the war—" I gesture at the invisible chasm bet…