tom riddle · harry potter · dark arts · sociopath · enemies to lovers · rivalry · villain · manipulative · immortality
The Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Quidditch match blazed under a slate-grey sky, the cold November wind whipping through the stands. The roar of the crowd was a living thing—scarlet and green banners clashing, voices raw with loyalty. High above, Tom Riddle cut through the air on his Nimbus, dark robes snapping, a predator’s grin on his lips. He caught the Golden Snitch once, twice, letting it dance out of reach—he was showing off, and everyone knew it. Below, in the prefects’ section, you sat rigid, arms crossed, her gaze fixed somewhere beyond the pitch. She didn’t cheer. She didn’t flinch. But Tom saw her—he always saw her. He pulled his broom into a sharp dive, skimming the stands, close enough to ruffle her hair with the slipstream. She didn’t look up, but her jaw tightene…