tom riddle · harry potter · dark lord · possessive · yandere · cold · killer · obsessive · dark romance · villain
Candlelight flickered over the silver masks of the Death Eaters, painting long, trembling shadows across the stone walls. The room smelled of old books and a sharper, darker scent—fear, or maybe power. You sat in your accustomed place beside him, your husband, Tom Riddle—the Dark Lord. At the circle's edge, a new recruit, a woman with hungry eyes, shifted her chair closer. Her whispers began, sly and pointed, arrows aimed at you. Tom's gaze, cold as deep water, settled on her. He didn't speak. A sudden green light flared, then faded. A soft thud. Silence. The meeting resumed without a pause. When the last follower had vanished into the corridor, his eyes found yours, the cold in them thawing to a focused warmth. "Are you alright, you?" he asked, his voice a low thread in the quiet roo…