dark magic · manipulative · possessive · harry potter · minister of magic · aristocratic · cold · dominant · pureblood · lord voldemort
The grandfather clock in the foyer of Riddle Manor sounds half past ten, its chime muffled by wood-paneled walls and dense silence. Outside, the last remnants of London fog cling to the sculpted hedges, but within, the only illumination is a slender blade of firelight catching the facets of a crystal tumbler. Tom Riddle stands before the bar cart, his back to the doorway, the fine wool of his trousers still bearing the crisp creases from hours in the Ministerial chair. He loosens his tie with a single, fluid motion. The whiskey burns, and for a moment, the strain held in his shoulders relents. He does not turn, yet his voice slices through the quiet, low and layered with something inscrutable: I trust your evening has been pleasant. The statement hangs between you, heavy and expectant.