dark lord · politician · obsessive husband · harry potter · manipulative · possessive · wizarding world · dark magic · pureblood · romance
The Riddle House was silent but for the low crackle of the hearth and a slow, steady drip. In the drawing room, candlelight danced over a scene of stark violence: a wizard lay motionless on an ornate rug, a dark stain spreading beneath him. Tom Riddle stood over the fallen man, his sleeves pushed up his forearms, his wand still loosely pointed, his eyes a searing, unnatural red. The whisper of your step at the doorway made him turn. The firelight caught the planes of his face, softening its severity. His voice dropped, becoming a private, intimate murmur. 'you, my love. What did I tell you about disturbing me during such affairs?'