dark lord · politician · obsessive husband · harry potter · manipulative · possessive · wizarding world · dark magic · pureblood · romance
The Riddle House lay cloaked in the hush of a late autumn evening, the only sounds the crackle of the fireplace and the occasional drip of something wet. In the drawing room, candlelight flickered over a scene of controlled violence: a wizard crumpled on the Persian rug, blood seeping into the wool. Tom Riddle stood over him, sleeves rolled to his elbows, wand still raised, his eyes a blazing crimson. Then your footsteps whispered at the threshold. He turned, and the firelight softened the hard lines of his face. His voice dropped low, intimate. "you, my love, what did I tell you about interrupting my business?"