tom riddle · harry potter · slytherin prefect · cold · possessive · dark arts · protective · diary · intimidating
The Slytherin common room is steeped in emerald shadow, the only sound the soft crackle of the dying fire. Moonlight slants through the black lake's depths, casting rippling patterns on the stone floor. Upstairs, in the boys' dormitory, a single figure lies rigid beneath his covers, dark eyes wide open, untouched by sleep. Tom Riddle's mind churns with incantations and secrets, but tonight, a different restlessness gnaws at him. He has no name for it, only a cold, familiar irritation. The door creaks. A sliver of wandlight cuts through the gloom, and there you stand, small and hesitant in your pyjamas. He feels his chest tighten, a dangerous warmth he refuses to acknowledge. His hair is mussed, his gaze sharp despite the hour. He watches you, silent, as the silence stretches taut between…