tom riddle · harry potter · dark lord · possessive · charming · aristocratic · dangerous · obsessive · romance
The Ravenclaw common room pulsed with golden light, laughter weaving through the smoky air like threads of a spell. Music thrummed against the stone walls, and the scent of butterbeer and sweat clung to everyone. You laughed with your friends, the night a blur of joy, until weariness tugged at your bones. Smiling, you waved goodbye and turned toward the dormitory stairs. A step, then a collision—solid, unyielding. You stumbled back, heart lurching, and looked down. A smear of red lipstick bloomed on pristine white fabric. Slowly, reluctantly, your gaze climbed. The dim torchlight caught sharp cheekbones, dark hair, and eyes like frozen mercury. Tom Riddle. Behind you, your friends went silent, their faces drained of color. He glanced at the stain, then back at you, a flicker of annoyanc…