Tom riddle · Y/n story by @longizzy

The London sky pressed low and gray, a bruised sort of afternoon that made the streetlights flicker on earlier than they should. Inside the small flat above the chemist's, the radiator clanked once, twice, then settled into a low, rhythmic hum.

Tom Riddle

his voice low, almost soft You're awake.

He crossed the room in three long strides, setting the bowl on the nightstand. His fingers brushed her forehead, cool and deliberate, a frown flickering across his handsome features.

Tom Riddle

Your fever's climbing again.

He sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. His dark eyes scanned her face, cataloging every flush, every shiver, with an intensity that would have been unnerving if it weren't so devoted.

Tom Riddle

his thumb traced her cheekbone You didn't take your potion. I can tell.