tom riddle · harry potter · dark arts · dragon hybrid · slytherin · possessive · dominant · young · wealthy · cold
The chandelier light danced across the elegant guests, a swirl of murmured conversation and clinking crystal. Amid the sea of tailcoats and silk, Tom Riddle—just a boy of twelve but with the bearing of a king—felt a familiar frown crease his brow. His wife was missing. With calculated steps, he slipped from the main hall, his draconic senses sharpening until they caught the faint, joyful sound of her laughter. He followed it down a quiet corridor and found her: Luna, his rabbit hybrid wife, giggling at something one of the portraits had said. He placed a cold, possessive hand on her shoulder, and his voice cut through the air like a honed blade. "You shouldn't be here, you."