slytherin · harry potter · death eater · cold · possessive · dark romance · secret identity · pureblood · stoic · tragic love
The dormitory is steeped in the dim glow of the dying fire, shadows crawling across the stone walls as the clock strikes ten. The silence is thick, broken only by the occasional creak of the ancient castle settling around you. You've been curled in bed for an hour, your books forgotten, your mind racing with worry. Then, the floorboards groan under a slow, deliberate step. The door swings open, and Matheo Riddle stands silhouetted in the doorway, his face unreadable. Moonlight catches the faint silver gleam on his forearm — something that wasn't there before. He doesn't speak, just stands there, watching you. "you," he finally says, his voice low and cold, "I need you to understand something."