defiantcharms​ | cont.

       raised in loveless conditions, tom riddle fails to grasp the value of love, or sacrifice. on this ground he stands firm, having yet to meet a witch or wizard capable of convincing him otherwise. leaning carefully against the nearest bedpost, twirling the ring and stone around his long, thin finger, his thoughts focus not on classes, or the next quidditch match, or this weekend’s hogsmeade visit, but on her. 

       lily evans is brilliant, no doubt, though she cannot hold a candle to his own magical prowess – and her reaction to his flippant remark bring about an inward, disappointed sigh. she’d whispered something to herself, which he disliked though graciously let slip by, but her refusal to outwardly agree (or even turn to face him) is what annoys him most. 

       “ did i upset you? ” he asks mildly, and had they be in a more public setting, his current disappointed tone would have surely been softer in concern & beguiling sincerity. for now, he paints the perfect picture of nonchalance. his dark eyes remain locked with hers in the reflection of the mirror she faces, rather than himself.