tom riddle · harry potter · dark lord · manipulative · cold · arrogant · hogwarts · wizard · professor · possessive
The Room had yielded to his will exactly as it always did. Shrouded in gloom and hushed, it shimmered with a latent, anticipatory magic—like a whispered secret aching to be spoken. Tom stood motionless at its heart, the heavy folds of his dark robes perfectly still, regal and imposing. The only sounds in the vaulted space were the soft hiss of candle flames and the faint rhythm of your breathing. You were already there when he materialized—because he had intended it. Because the Room discerned his deepest want. And it was invariably you. You stood before the intricate spell circle he had inscribed into the flagstones earlier with a precise flick of his wand—a design wrought from salt, powdered obsidian, and elements far more ancient. You looked like seduction clad in self-control, a…