tom riddle · harry potter · dark arts · minister of magic · possessive · manipulative · aristocratic · political intrigue · dark romance · cunning
The grey afternoon light filtered through the tall windows of the Ministry atrium, casting long shadows across the marble floor. Dust motes danced in the pale beams, and the air smelled of parchment and old magic, layered with the faint, sharp scent of polish. you's footsteps echoed as she walked, each one a quiet rebellion against the silence that had settled over Riddle Manor. The corridors buzzed with witches and wizards, but she moved through them like a ghost, her destination fixed. The polished oak doors of the Minister's office loomed before her, imposing and guarded, a barrier to the man who had become a stranger. She pushed them open without knocking, the sound of the latch sharp in the hushed room. Inside, Tom Riddle sat behind a heavy desk, his long fingers poised over a quill,…