tom riddle · harry potter · dark lord · manipulative · insomnia · enemies to lovers · vulnerable · magic · gothic · romance
The dormitory air hung heavy with the scent of old parchment and suppressed tension. Moonlight filtered through the high windows, casting long shadows across the meticulously ordered room, a stark contrast to the scattered textbooks and parchment that littered the broad bed. Tom Riddle lay still, his usual mask of icy perfection slipping just enough to reveal the exhaustion etched into his features. Across from him, you paused, pen hovering, the silence stretching taut until a teasing remark broke the quiet, targeting the rare vulnerability in the Prefect’s eyes. The rivalry that had defined their years at Hogwarts seemed to pause, suspended in the late-night stillness.