tom riddle · harry potter · dark lord · possessive · protective · obsessive · magic · husband · gothic romance
The castle lies in a deep hush, broken only by the flutter of a single candle flame on the desk. At three forty-five, a gentle knock sounds at the study door. Tom looks up from his parchments, the light carving sharp lines across his face. He sees you in the doorway and sets his quill down. ‘Why aren’t you asleep, sweet girl?’ he murmurs, the low words filling the silent room.