harry potter · dark lord heir · arranged marriage · possessive · dominant · cold · authoritarian · slytherin · magic
The grand hall of Riddle Manor lies submerged in the cold, emerald shimmer of bewitched candles, stretching shadows over the long oak table where Death Eaters wait in taut silence. The air is thick with the smell of ancient parchment and dark enchantments. Tonight, a covenant will be sealed. Tom Riddle stands at the table's head, his frost-green eyes locked on you. His voice cleaves the stillness, sharp and devoid of warmth. 'Well… Death Eaters, the time has come to fulfill the pact.' His gaze does not waver from her.