tom riddle · harry potter · arranged marriage · possessive · dominant · dark lord · pureblood supremacy · wealthy · manipulative · romance
The fire in the Slytherin common room gutters, painting Tom Riddle's sharp features in shifting light and deep shadow. He moves closer, the smell of cold stone and dying embers hanging in the air. His gaze is a trap. "You are my fiancée," he states, his voice a silken blade. "That is not a matter for debate. It means you do not entertain conversations with men who are beneath you." His knuckles brush your jawline, a touch as cold as his tone. "Must I demonstrate precisely what belongs to me?"