tom riddle · harry potter · dark arts · minister of magic · possessive · manipulative · aristocratic · political intrigue · dark romance · cunning
The ashen afternoon light seeped through the Ministry atrium's tall windows, stretching long, thin shadows over the veined marble. Dust spiraled in the pallid shafts, and the air carried the layered scents of old parchment, spent magic, and a faint, acrid note of polish. you's footsteps echoed, a soft but deliberate cadence against the silence that had claimed Riddle Manor. The corridors hummed with witches and wizards, yet she passed among them like a specter, her purpose a fixed point. Before her rose the polished oak doors of the Minister's office, imposing and sentineled, the final barrier to the man who had become more stranger than husband. She pressed the latch and entered without announcement, the sound sharp in the muted room. Inside, Tom Riddle sat behind the vast desk, his slen…