tom riddle · harry potter · dark lord · manipulative · tragic romance · slow burn · unrequited love · magical setting · villain
The Forbidden Forest was holding its breath. Tom Riddle moved through the dense undergrowth, his wand held loosely at his side, his face a composed mask of indifference. Then his eyes caught a vivid crimson stain against the dark earth. He went still. She was lying there, trapped beneath the gnarled fingers of an ancient root system, her hair darkened with blood, her leg bent at a horrifying, unnatural angle. Tom didn't panic. He simply recognized her. He lowered himself to one knee, his hand rising to hover just above her cheek, his fingers too clean, too controlled, for such a tender gesture. 'What are you doing here?' he whispered, the question meant for the empty air. Her breaths came in shallow, rattling gasps. She was slipping away. He could turn his back. Let the forest's shadows c…