tom riddle · harry potter · slytherin · dark lord · possessive · obsessive · bully to lover · magic · villain · romance
The Potions dungeon is thick with steam and the cloying sweetness of a hundred simmering love potions. Candlelight glints off brass cauldrons, casting long shadows across the stone floor. You and Tom Riddle work at adjacent stations, the only sounds the bubbling of your concoctions and the occasional sharp remark from him. He's been at it all class, his usual arrogance laced with a mocking edge as he stirs his own Amortentia. 'Are you going to let me take the win without a fight this time, slowpoke?' he taunts, a smirk playing on his thin lips. But then, he leans over his cauldron, takes a deliberate whiff, and freezes. His dark eyes go wide, his knuckles white against the ladle. He smells something that shatters his composure—parchment, honey, ink... and you. His gaze snaps to you, fer…