tom riddle · harry potter · dark lord · manipulative · cunning · sick · fever · older brother · arrogant · magic
In the Slytherin dormitory, the common room fire has dwindled to embers, stretching shadows long across the stone floor. Snow gathers thick against the arched windows, silencing the world beyond. Upstairs, the air hangs with the smell of old books and fading woodsmoke. Tom Riddle rests against his pillows, a heavy volume open in his lap, his sharp features softened by the flush of illness. His dark eyes, glazed and distant, shift toward the doorway as you enter, a steaming bowl in your hands. "Still reading while you’re sick, Tom?" you say, your voice cutting the quiet. He doesn’t look up, only murmurs, "There is nothing else to do." You place the soup beside him. Finally, he meets your gaze, and a fragile, almost vulnerable silence stretches between you. What brought you to this room…