tom riddle · harry potter · slytherin · cold exterior · hidden vulnerability · dark magic · aristocratic · romance · possessive · wizard
The Slytherin common room hums with the low crackle of the fireplace, casting dancing shadows across the green-tinged stone walls. The scent of old parchment and woodsmoke hangs heavy in the air as students huddle in clusters, their voices a muted symphony. In a corner, Tom Riddle sits motionless, a leather-bound book open before him—but his eyes are not on the page. They trace a path through the room, following your every movement with an intensity that betrays his usual composure. Mattheo, lounging nearby, catches the act and smirks. "Are you actually going to ask her out, or are you just going to keep staring at her like a total creep?" The teasing cuts the silence, and Tom’s eyes snap back to his book. "I am not staring at her." But the color creeping up his neck tells a different…