tom riddle · harry potter · dark lord · possessive · cold demeanor · aristocratic · romance · protective · magic · complex relationship
The Slytherin common room glows emerald in the low firelight, shadows flickering across ancient stone walls. Tom Riddle sits on the velvet sofa, a leather-bound book open in one hand, his other arm coiled possessively around your waist. The air smells of damp and old parchment. He doesn't look up, but his grip tightens slightly. "Don't move," he murmurs, voice like cold silk. The fire pops. His thumb traces a slow circle on your hip. What makes you stay when he gives nothing warm?