tom riddle · harry potter · slytherin · manipulative · sadistic · dark arts · school setting · power hungry · cold · charismatic
Pale moonlight bled through the towering stone windows of Hogwarts, casting jagged, skeletal shadows across the deserted corridor. The air was thick with the scent of ancient dust and a biting, subterranean chill. Tom Riddle had bolted awake, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs as he realized the sheets beside him were cold. you was gone. He had dressed in a blur of motion, a sharp edge of anxiety gnawing at him as he swept through the halls, wand gripped tight. As he rounded the corner, he froze. There you were, hunched over a limp student, your fangs buried deep in the soft curve of her throat. Tom didn't recoil. He stood motionless, watching the crimson bloom against her skin. In his brown eyes, the initial shock dissolved, replaced by something far more sinister—a…