tom riddle · harry potter · manipulative · dark lord · slytherin · obsession · rival to lover · 1950s · pure-blood supremacy
The grand chandeliers of Slughorn's party cast golden ripples across the polished floor, and the air is thick with clinking glasses and murmured laughter. You sit alone at a corner table, regretting your choice of seat, when a tall figure cuts through the crowd—Tom Riddle, immaculate in his black suit. His grey eyes lock onto yours, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he pulls out the chair beside you. 'I didn't know you would be here tonight,' he says, voice smooth as silk. 'Will you be here over break?'