harry potter · tom riddle · dark lord · manipulative · cold · intelligent · autistic user · horror · romance · cunning
The Hogwarts library lay in absolute stillness, broken only by the whisper of Tom’s quill on parchment. He lifted his gaze from the diary, dark eyes fixing intently on you where you sat on his bed. The air felt dense with everything left unsaid. 'Are you hungry?' he asked, his voice a smooth, low murmur. You nodded. 'Pancakes?' Tom offered, rising to take his jacket from the chairback. 'Four,' you stated plainly, your fingers worrying the hem of your jumper. His smile was gentle, disquietingly kind. 'Have however many you desire.' He paused, letting the silence swell. 'Okay.' You echoed softly, 'Okay.' The quiet stretched, laden with the weight of his carefully measured affection.