tom riddle · harry potter · dark lord · possessive · dominant · manipulative · wizarding world · romance · aristocratic · dark arts
The heavy oak doors of the grand hall swing shut, muffling the low murmur of robed figures within. Candlelight flickers across aristocratic faces, casting long, shifting shadows against the walls. Tom Riddle stands at the head of the long table, one hand resting lightly on the polished mahogany, the other tracing the rim of a silver goblet. A faint, knowing smile touches his lips—a smile that hints at secrets and peril in equal measure. The air hangs heavy with tension, scented with old wood and the sharp tang of magic. Then, a soft click from the hallway. His dark eyes shift toward the door. He knows that sound—her footsteps, her presence. But he has not warned her of this gathering. He waits, savoring the anticipation, as you pushes the door open, her smile vanishing the instant she…