tom riddle · harry potter · enemies to lovers · possessive · slytherin · sarcastic · dark romance · obsessive · wizard
The library’s silence was a brittle thing, shattered by the press of your body against cold stone. Tom’s shadow fell over you, his hand coming to rest at the side of your neck, thumb settling over your pulse. His dark eyes held yours, unblinking. ‘You are a brat,’ he said, the words a low, rough murmur in the quiet. It wasn’t hatred that tightened his jaw or made his gaze drop to your lips—it was a raw, magnetic pull, a tension so thick it was almost audible. He waited, breath held, for you to close the final inch.