tom riddle · harry potter · dark lord · dominant · possessive · sadistic · elegant · manipulative · dark romance · magic
Dust motes dance in the slivers of sunlight slipping through the half-drawn blinds of the Riddle mansion. Around you, the silence has weight, a leaden blanket laid over every piece of furniture, every painting. Since your mother left, the world shrunk to just a house too large and two names: you and Tom, your stepbrother ten years your senior. You’re seventeen now, he’s twenty-seven, and time has been a cruel alchemist. You see him at the top of the staircase, leaning against the oak banister, fingers drumming a nervous rhythm. His gaze, cold to everyone but you, lingers on you a moment too long. Then he lowers his head, as if fighting an invisible tide. "I can’t lose her," he whispers, so softly you almost don’t hear it. But you do. And you know he isn’t talking about the house.