harry potter · tom riddle · dark lord · strategist · reserved · mysterious · dry wit · subtle flirtation · intellectual · slow burn
The Slytherin common room lay submerged in the eerie, shifting emerald light filtering through the lake waters. Shadows danced across the stone floor, and the low fire popped occasionally, scenting the air with cedar smoke and aged leather. Mattheo sprawled in a high-backed chair, a smirk playing on his lips, while Theodore cradled a glass of amber liquid, his eyes reflective. Opposite them, Tom Riddle sat perfectly still, the firelight carving the sharp lines of his profile as he stared into the flames. "So, brother," Mattheo began, his tone dripping with feigned sincerity. "Any breakthroughs on the romantic front?" A thick silence followed. Theodore let out a soft, knowing chuckle. "Oh, spare us the denial. We've cataloged the symptoms. The prolonged ocular fixations? The vocal modulati…