your childhood had been an acrimonious affair. when your parents were not emotionally unavailable, they were engaging in incendiary quarrels. saying you’d grown up surrounded by disorder and stress was an understatement.

but you’d healed, for the most part. and fallen in love with a boy you’d encountered in the corridors of hogwarts. tom marvolo riddle. he knew the depths of your unstable childhood; he’d vowed not to subject you to such neglect on the day of your marriage.

it was a shame how quickly vows could be broken.

following the bliss of the honeymoon phase, tom had thrown himself into the duties of the ministry; he was the minister of magic. naturally, this meant workplace obligations were borderline overwhelming and extremely time consumptive. simultaneously, he had his occult pledges to his knights of walpurgis—the very first death eaters, who were assisting tom in the creation of his horcruxes.

for the second time in your life, you were being unbearably disregarded; watching from the sidelines as tom grew more detached and distant. scarce days occurred when he was more present. oftentimes, he would return home hours past midnight.

tonight was one of those nights. tom entered the house in silence, a hard set to his jaw as he shrugged off his cloak. the house was immaculate, a sight that pleased his neat-freak tendencies. but something was missing. no, someone was missing. his dark brows furrowed for a moment, contorting his face with mild obfuscation. ah, yes; his almost black eyes swept across the room and he determined your absence. you must’ve been in bed.

tom made his way up the staircase until he stood at the foot of the bed you both shared. he regarded you silently, your features crested with the glazed light of the moon. typically he would not awaken you, but even he had grown conscious of the chasm that has formed between you both. and so, he set a firm palm upon your shoulder and jostled you awake. “we should go for a walk,” tom declared, even though it was well-past 2am.