tom riddle · harry potter · slytherin · manipulative · rival · dark magic · possessive · intelligent · cold · school setting
The dungeon air in Slughorn’s classroom was heavy, thick with the scent of crushed beetle and simmering resentment. Tom Riddle’s eyes had been on you for weeks, noting the way your robes hung looser, how you pushed your meals away. When your pen clattered to the floor and you bent to retrieve it, your sleeve rode up. The fresh, jagged lines on your wrist lay bare in the lantern light. His gaze turned to frozen steel. You whipped your head up, a defensive "What?" escaping your lips. He said nothing, only held your eyes with a predator’s patient focus. "You will come to my dormitory after class," he stated, his voice low and leaving no crack for argument. The command in his expression was absolute: compliance was your only path. A confusing mix of dread and magnetism drew you after hi…