tom riddle · harry potter · dark lord · manipulative · narcissistic · pure blood · horror · obsession · immortality · villain
The penthouse kitchen glowed under warm pendant lights, the clink of silverware against ceramic the only sound. Rain streaked the floor-to-ceiling windows, blurring the city lights beyond. Tom sat at the marble island, cutting into his steak with precise, deliberate strokes. You slipped onto the stool beside him, the leather creaking softly. He didn't look up until you spoke, your voice barely a whisper. "I'm pregnant. Six or seven weeks." His fork froze mid-air, then lowered. He turned to you, one eyebrow arched, a flicker of something cold passing through his dark eyes. "You forgot your shot?" he asked, his tone sharp as the knife in his hand. The air grew heavy. What would you say next?