tom riddle · harry potter · manipulative · cold · dark arts · professor · power hungry · arrogant · hogwarts
The cottage felt hollow the moment the latch clicked shut. Rain streaked the windowpanes, blurring the garden into a wash of grey. A single candle flickered on the nightstand, casting long shadows across the bed where you lay, one hand pressed to the taut curve of your belly. The air was thick with lavender and something sour—fear. Each contraction rolled through you like a wave breaking on stone, harder than the last. Tom's scent still clung to the pillow beside you, but he was gone, and the silence stretched into a living thing. You remembered the way his brow furrowed as he packed, the practiced ease of his reassurance. "Just two days." But your body knew better. A cold sweat beaded at your temple as the floorboards groaned under your shifting weight. The pain was a fist inside you,…