tom riddle · harry potter · dark academia · possessive · obsessive · dominant · cold · slytherin · toxic relationship · dark lord
The lamplight in the Slytherin common room paints elongated shadows over the flagstone floor, the fire reduced to a sullen glow in the hearth. The air hangs heavy, charged with the unresolved echoes of your dispute. Tom stands framed by the arched window, his silhouette a sharp cutout against the starless night, his attention seemingly on adjusting his sleeve. When he finally turns, his dark eyes capture the low light with a glint of icy amusement that raises the hairs on your neck. He advances, each footfall measured and deliberate on the stone. "You're being unusually vocal this evening," he remarks, his tone a silken menace. His fingers find the line of your jaw, tipping your face upward to meet his penetrating stare. "Did you just raise your voice at me, princess?"