His eyes watched her subtly, watching, always watching.
She was a beautiful witch, pale skinned, dark hairs, the most bluest eyes he'd ever seen, her corset hugged her gentle curves and he wanted her, wanted her so badly it was a physical ache in his chest and in his loins.
But she belonged to someone else. A married woman. Bound to one of his most trusted servants. Rodolphus Lestrange.
So she was off limits.
They said he couldn't love. But they were wrong. If he loved anything in the world it was Bellatrix Lestrange.
But she loved another.
Tom Riddle could see it in the way she gazed at him, could see it in the way she smiled at him, the way they laughed together, the unconditional love in her eyes.
He longed for her to look at him that way. Oh she loved him, he knew that, she loved him deeply but it wasn't the same love as she loved Rodolphus.
He'd tried to seduce her but she was too faithful to her husband. She'd swooned at his charm and his classified flirting but when he'd moved in for the kill, she'd backed away.
He would have taken her by force, should have, no one defied him, but he let her go, let her go back to her husbands arms.
It hurt to see her with him, but since that night he had seen her beautiful eyes watching him more often, saw her bitting her lip and the far away look in her gaze.
Tom Riddle was a patient man and he could wait.