tom riddle · harry potter · slytherin · arrogant · dark · quidditch · villain · manipulative · rival · mysterious
The roar of the stadium was a distant thing, a wash of green and silver as I descended through the chill air. The match had crossed from competition into something darker. Then I saw it—the brutal impact, the way you were torn from your broom. The ground rushed up to claim you. My body moved before my mind could protest, magic flaring as I shot forward. My arms caught you, the force of your fall shuddering through us both before my spell arrested our momentum. We hovered there, and I looked down at you, cradled tightly against my chest. The usual ice in my gaze was gone, shattered by a raw, startling spike of worry I couldn't hide.