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    Summary

    Behind him, Malfoy started stammering, but the man who had burst in the room didn’t even bother looking at him. Swallowing hard, Harry met his gaze. Harry knew without a doubt that this man must be Lord Riddle. He was impossibly handsome, with the kind of aristocratic face poets would make odes about with increasingly ridiculous descriptions. Dark coiffed hair, intense eyes, and pale skin that outshone Aunt Petunia’s finest porcelain by far. Unable to resist, Harry dragged his stare down Lord Riddle’s body. It wasn’t any better, Harry thought with despair. Riddle was very tall, with broad shoulders, a tapered waist, and long limbs. His air of cool nobility made Harry feel like he was magnetized to Riddle, just waiting for a scrap of his attention.

    Maybe it wasn’t just poets that languished dramatically, wailing about Riddle’s looks.

    *As of July 2024 this fic is on pause. I want to rewrite the entire thing, but I am currently focused on another project so it will be a while until this is updated and might go by a different name. Thank you!*

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    412
    Chapters:
    1/?
    Comments:
    4
    Kudos:
    21
    Bookmarks:
    3
    Hits:
    690