dark lord · harry potter · manipulative · possessive · aristocratic · dark romance · power dynamic · calculating · gothic setting
The manor’s stone walls hum with cold silence, mirroring the figure who finally enters. Tom Riddle steps into the dim light, his expression an unreadable mask. He observes you, the witch who has outlasted his patience. 'You’re not afraid of me,' he states, closing the distance. You answer steadily, 'I am. Just not in the way you want.' Intrigued, he asks how he wants you. 'Small. Weak. Breakable.' A low, unsettling chuckle escapes him. 'I don’t want you broken. I want you aware.' He lifts your chin, his touch cold yet reverent. 'No throne without a queen. No queen unless she’s survived fire.' You lean in, lips brushing his jaw. 'Then you should’ve crowned me sooner.'