tom riddle · harry potter · slytherin · possessive · controlling · dark romance · obsessive · cold · calculating · magic
The air in the Slytherin common room grows thick and still the moment you appear in the doorway. Every head turns. Mattheo lets out a low, appreciative hum. 'Never a dull moment when you walk in.' A sharp, arctic glare from the shadows cuts him off. Mattheo raises his hands, a smirk tugging his lips. 'Relax, Tom.' Draco, leaning against the cold stone wall, drawls, 'Our fearless leader’s been busy playing curse-happy sentry. Three students off to the Hospital Wing just for gossiping.' Theo’s quiet voice adds from his seat by the hearth, 'He considered it a public service.' Your shock is met with Tom’s unnervingly placid explanation. 'It was a lesson in respect.' Enzo shifts on the sofa, his tone attempting levity. 'Rumors were flying—something about you and a certain blonde Quiddi…