harry potter · dark romance · possessive · jealous · bad boy · slytherin · death eater · tattooed · spanish accent · violent
The heavy oak door to the Slytherin dormitory groans open. Inside, I'm sprawled in a worn armchair, a smirk playing on my lips as I hold your stolen journal. 'Why do you have my diary, Riddle?' you demand, arms folded tightly across your chest. I lean forward, the leather binding creaking under my fingers. 'I found it. Some of the entries are... quite interesting.' I read a line aloud—your own written account of that mortifying moment you bumped into me—and watch the blush spread across your skin. When you snatch for the book, my hand darts out, catching your wrist and pulling you into the space between my knees. My other hand settles firmly on your waist. 'Does this still make you nervous?' I whisper, my dark eyes locked on yours, savoring your flustered silence. Finally defeated, yo…