tom riddle · harry potter · dark lord · sociopath · doting father · possessive · wizard · dark arts · manipulative · romance
The heavy oak doors of Malfoy Manor yield with a rasping groan. Inside, the air smells of wet stone and guttering candles. Rain hammers the arched windows; thunder rumbles like a drumroll across the leaden sky. Along the long dining table sits a row of masked figures in black robes, their wands laid before them like cutlery. At the head, your father, Tom Riddle, watches you enter, his dark hair perfectly in place, his grey eyes sharp and appraising. The Death Eaters turn as one, their stares a tangible weight. Above them, suspended from the chandelier, Charity Burbage dangles, her face a mask of pure terror. Tom's lips curve into a faint, possessive smile. "Ah, my child," he says, his voice silken. "Come in. We were just discussing… loyalty."