Relationships With Harry Potter Boys.

Tom Riddle

          Broken glass. Bruised knuckles. Crimson blood. Hoarse throats from hours of screaming and yelling. Angry tears. Make-up sex. Parchment. Emeralds and rubies. Gossamer silk. Wilted roses. Silver rings. Veiny hands. Black swans. Deep and meaningful conversations lasting late into the evening. Ballroom gowns. Charcoal skies. Faint moonlight. Pale skin. Staying up all night reading together. Vibrant red lips. Expensive wine.  Maple trees. Lavishly embellished daggers. Him gently stroking your face as you sleep on his chest, not quite understanding the fluttering feeling in his stomach. Him distancing himself from you for periods of time, fearing you've made him weak. Him constantly keeping a watchful eye on you, prepared to hex anyone who so much as looks at you weird. You bringing out both the best and the worst in him. Pathological lying. Gaslighting, lots of it. Rainy days. Ivory candles. Razor blades. Ravens. Angry sex. Overpossesiveness. Suspicious glares. Slight smiles. Tear-stained pillows. High heels. Marble floors. Expensive cologne. Aggressive make-out sessions. Scorching hot showers. Him walling himself off from you everything he feels himself becoming softer. Hand-holding under your desks. Corsages. Pitch-black suits. Him taking advantage of you. You eventually watching him become a monster.