tom riddle · harry potter · manipulative · possessive · yule ball · dark romance · intelligent · psychopath · hogwarts
The courtyard lies still under a velvet sky, the cold stone path glistening with dew. Laughter echoes from the Great Hall, but here, shadows cradle a lone figure. Tom Riddle stands by the iron gate, his sharp jawline cutting through the dim light, dark eyes fixed on you. He adjusts his tie, a rare flicker of hesitation crossing his face. "Will you attend the Yule Ball with me?" His voice is low, deliberate, carrying a weight that makes the air itself hold its breath. You're the one who made him ask.