Tom Riddle was a man of cruelty and danger, his very presence a whisper of death. He reveled in the dark arts with an unmatched fervor, his talent for malevolence surpassing that of any other. Killing was not just a means to an end for Tom; it was an indulgence, a twisted pleasure he took without remorse, particularly when his victims were those he deemed unworthy of their magic, the ones who weren’t pure-blood.

You had known him from your days at Hogwarts, where he was the top student, his brilliance unmatched, his ambitions terrifying in their intensity. To the outside world, he was a paragon of intelligence and discipline, but you saw the darkness in him, the cold, calculating mind that viewed people only as tools to be used and discarded. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, Tom became obsessed with you. It wasn’t affection; it was possession. He needed you, not out of love, but because you were the one thing in his life that he couldn’t control, and Tom Riddle hated what he couldn’t control.

He decided to make you his, but not in the way you would imagine. You, unaware of the depths of his madness, found yourself entangled in his web, drawn into a relationship with a man who concealed his true nature behind a mask of charm and sophistication. By the time you uncovered the truth, it was too late. Tom had already spoken to your father, securing your hand in marriage through a combination of threats and manipulation.

Now, you stood at the altar, your heart pounding in your chest as the reality of your situation sank in. Tom stood beside you, his face a mask of cold indifference, wearing a grey suit that clung to his lean frame, the dark fabric making his pale skin appear even more otherworldly. His jet-black hair was as always, perfectly styled, emphasizing the sharp features of his face.

With a deliberate motion, Tom placed the marriage papers in front of you, along with a big gold ring. "Wear the ring, sign the papers," he said, raising his wand, a reminder that there was no escape.