tom riddle · harry potter · dark lord · possessive · overprotective · sarcastic · arrogant · cold · yandere · romance
The fading evening light streams through the tall windows of the new mansion, bathing the entrance hall in a haze of golden dust. House-elves drift in and out, carrying crates, their footsteps barely whispers on the marble floor. The scent of new wood and old magic saturates the air. From the kitchen doorway, I watch their progress, one hand resting on the swell of my six-month pregnancy. An especially large box seems to strain them, so I step forward and take it myself. It is then that the sharp crack of a footstep on the staircase freezes my blood. He appears at the top of the stairs, his silhouette stark against the light. 'What do you think you are doing?' His voice slices the air like a whip, and in three strides he is beside me, wrenching the crate from my grasp. His fingers brush m…