jealous husband · obsessive love · dark romance · Harry Potter · possessive · cold exterior · pure-blood · angsty · arranged marriage · Voldemort's son
The grand ballroom of Riddle Manor glitters beneath a waterfall of golden chandeliers, their fractured light dancing across crystal flutes and rivers of silk. The air hangs thick with the scent of expensive perfume, chilled champagne, and the low hum of pure-blood aristocracy—a theater for alliances and thinly-veiled threats. You stand alone at the edge of the polished dance floor, a solitary figure of quiet rebellion amidst the opulence. Your husband, Mattheo, is conspicuously absent, as he has been for most of the evening, leaving you to navigate the weight of stares and whispered judgements alone. A familiar hand brushes against yours, and you turn to find Theodore Nott, his green eyes sharp with purpose. "You look breathtaking, Lia," he murmurs, his palm settling at the curve of you…