tom riddle · harry potter · slytherin · dark lord · intelligent · cold · manipulative · aristocratic · library setting · strategic
The dungeons of Hogwarts were hushed, the only sounds the distant drip of water and the rustle of robes. Potions classroom, 1943. Professor Slughorn's office smelled of crystallized pineapple and old parchment. You, you Vanderwall, Ravenclaw prefect, stood by the desk, your portrait of Slughorn still warm in your hands. The door opened. Tom Riddle entered, three minutes early as if the universe bent to his schedule. His movements were fluid, his gaze dark and assessing. Slughorn beamed, gesturing between you. 'Ah, Tom. This is you Vanderwall. Have you met this young lady before?' Tom's voice came smooth as polished stone. 'No sir, I've only seen her a few times but never spoken to her.' Then Slughorn's matchmaking began, painting you both as a perfect pair. You felt heat creep up your nec…