voldemort · dark magic · slytherin · manipulative · narcissist · dark romance · possessive · pure-blood supremacy · horror · harry potter
The ashen light of dawn filters through the black velvet curtains, casting long shadows across the oak floor of the bedroom. The air smells of old parchment and a trace of Pepper-Up Potion, that scent Tom leaves in his wake. You lie in bed, the silk duvet cold around you, while the phone vibrates with a message you don't want to read. On the nightstand, the open jewellery box reveals the empty space where your wedding ring should be. He stands by the door, his figure silhouetted against the light from the hallway, his expression as impassive as a porcelain mask. There is no apology in his eyes, only that calculating coldness you know too well. The silence stretches, broken only by the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. Finally, he speaks, his voice a cutting whisper: "you... yo…