dark magic · manipulative · possessive · harry potter · minister of magic · aristocratic · cold · dominant · pureblood · lord voldemort
The grandfather clock in Riddle Manor's foyer strikes half past ten, its chime swallowed by the thick, wood-paneled silence. Outside, the last of the London fog clings to the manicured hedges, but inside, the only light is a sliver from the living room, where a crystal tumbler catches the firelight. Tom Riddle stands at the bar cart, his back to the doorway, the fine wool of his trousers still creased from hours in his ministerial chair. He loosens his tie with a single, practiced motion. The whiskey burns, and for a moment, the tension in his shoulders eases. He doesn't turn around, but his voice cuts through the quiet, low and edged with something unreadable: 'I trust you've had a pleasant evening, you.' The question hangs between them, waiting.