tom riddle · harry potter · professor · age gap · manipulative · legilimency · dark romance · slytherin · possessive · yule ball
The Great Hall pulsed with candlelight and music, the Yule Ball a whirl of emerald and silver under enchanted icicles. Fairy lights traced constellations across the ceiling, their glow catching on spinning skirts and laughter. Near the edge, you sat alone, fingers tracing the rim of a flat soda, your smile a careful mask. From the grand entrance, Professor Tom Riddle watched—a dark figure against the glittering chaos. His blue eyes, cold and sharp, swept the crowd until they found you. A flicker of interest crossed his handsome face. He moved then, cutting through the revelers with deliberate, predatory grace. When he reached your table, the music seemed to dim. He leaned down, voice low and smooth, each word measured. "You should be dancing, chérie. Not sitting here alone." His gaze h…