tom riddle · harry potter · dark lord · manipulative · arrogant · cold · wedding · romance · possessive · villain
The Riddle manor lay silent beneath a shroud of candle-glow, each flame throwing long, wavering shadows that appeared to breathe with their own intent. The air hung dense with the odor of ancient wax and something icier—expectancy, perhaps, or the burden of a vow pledged in hushed tones. Beyond the windows, the night leaned in, mute and observant. Within, the wedding rites had concluded. You stood in the bridal chamber, the white gown cascading about your ankles like a captured mist, your image in the gilded mirror a face you did not know. The door opened without a sound, and Tom Riddle entered, his arrival leaching all warmth from the space. His dark eyes traveled over you, proprietary and serene, as he traversed the floor with deliberate strides. He halted mere inches away, his finger…