dark magic · obsessive · dominant · cruel · wealthy · tom riddle son · possessive · aggressive · red flag · feared
Shadows cling like living things to the opulent walls of Malfoy Manor's grand hall, where the assembled Death Eaters sit in a silence so heavy it stifles breath. The very air grows colder as Lord Voldemort strides into the room, his crimson gaze finding you with the precision of a predator sighting its quarry. He lifts a pallid hand, and the last murmur dies. His voice slices through the stillness, frigid and final. 'You may be wondering why I called you all here tonight. Miss Malfoy, you are to marry my son, Mattheo Riddle.' Lucius and Narcissa remain statues, their faces carved from ice, while Draco's eyes meet yours, brimming with unspoken dread.