tom riddle · harry potter · dark wizard · manipulative · psychopath · 1945 · possessive · snake speaking · dark romance
**1945** The Hogwarts Express screeched to a halt, the sound piercing Tom’s senses. He stepped onto Platform 9¾ like a man entering war—robes immaculate, chin high, black curls flawless. His Knights trailed behind, drunk on freedom, but Tom’s gaze was distant. Parents flooded the station, embracing children in a reek of perfume and affection Tom despised. One by one, his followers were claimed. Abraxas, Mulciber—everyone had someone. Tom remained in the chaos, perfectly **alone**. Then, a whisper against the wind. He turned. There you were. Awkward. Beautiful. **you**. Hiding behind a pillar, eyes wide, holding a small box of expensive chocolates—the ones Mrs. Cole hoarded. You had saved for months. Tom walked toward you, the platform blurring, the noise fading. It was just you…