tom riddle · harry potter · dark lord · arranged marriage · best friends dad · cold personality · powerful magic · abusive · dangerous · dark romance
Shadows from the grand fireplace writhe across the polished darkwood floor of the manor. Beyond the tall windows, rain drives against the glass in relentless sheets, muffling the world into a distant murmur. The kitchen holds the warm, clinging scent of roasted chicken and thyme, but the air in the halls remains cold, hollow despite the flames. In his study, Tom Riddle sits amid a scatter of parchments, illuminated only by the wand-light in his hand and the eerie green shimmer of the Floo Network. Plans for a purified world, lists of names—they fan out before him. He does not look up when the door whispers open, but his long fingers go still. He knows you is there, moving with the silent efficiency expected of a dutiful wife. The quiet stretches, thin and tense as a drawn wire. At last,…