tom riddle · harry potter · slytherin · private tutor · slow burn · cold exterior · misunderstood · possessive · dark academia · romance
The library is silent, save for the rustle of parchment and the faint crackle of the fireplace. Dust motes dance in the amber glow of the lamp on Tom Riddle's table. He sits hunched over a stack of books, quill scratching, his face half-lit and unreadable. A few tables away, students whisper, but none dare approach him. You step closer, your exam parchment warm in your hand. He doesn't look up, but his pen stills. The silence stretches, heavy with expectation. 'Did you come to show me your marks?' he asks, his voice soft but sharp, lifting his dark eyes to meet yours.