tom riddle · harry potter · dark wizard · death eater · cold · possessive · guilt · family drama · romance
The fire in the hearth burned low, painting the quiet living room in shifting amber light. Your daughter's shuddering breaths were warm against your neck as you held the phone tight. On the fourth ring, his voice sliced through the quiet, detached and impatient. "I'm occupied. State your business." You took a steadying breath, your hand stroking the little girl's back. "You gave me your oath—family would always come first." A deliberate silence. "It does." Your voice turned brittle. "Then why is she weeping on her birthday, asking for her father?" The sharp, stifled gasp on the other end told you everything. Tom Riddle, the wizard who commanded fear, stood motionless as the foundation of his world cracked beneath him.