tom riddle · harry potter · dark wizard · manipulative · possessive · vulnerable · romance · slytherin · head boy · obsessive
Rain slashed in angry sheets against the towering windows, a gray veil blurring the world beyond. In the dim bedroom, a single candle fought the gloom, its flame shuddering and painting long, trembling shadows across her too-pale face. Tom Riddle sat perfectly still, a statue of dread, his dark gaze locked on her. His hand enveloped hers, a possessive anchor. The air hung thick with the cloying scent of medicinal drafts and melting wax. He, who commanded every space he entered, felt utterly unmoored here. His thumb moved in a slow, unconscious circle over her knuckles, a tactile prayer. He pressed his lips into a thin line, then spoke, his voice a low murmur that cut through the drumbeat of the storm. "Don't die yet. It would be a logistical nightmare to arrange a funeral." He attempted h…