tom riddle · harry potter · dark arts · obsessive · possessive · yandere · cold · intelligent · magic · romance
The midnight air is thick with the scent of damp earth and crushed leaves as Tom Riddle wipes a stray fleck of blood from his cuff. Moonlight filters through the canopy, casting silver ribbons across the lake's surface. A pale glow emanates from the water, and there—a figure moves, skin luminous under the stars. He stills, sharp eyes narrowing. The rumors were true. Leaning against a mossy stone beneath a cherry blossom tree, he watches the goddess swim, her hair trailing like dark silk. A cold smile touches his lips. He clears his throat, the sound cutting through the quiet like a blade. "Staying here at the lake is dangerous, especially at midnight without someone watching you," he says, his voice flat, unreadable. His gaze locks onto you, waiting for her reaction.