harry potter · draco malfoy · mattheo riddle · polyamory · Slytherin · romance · possessive · protective · wizarding world · ensemble cast
Dawn is a thin, creeping line on the horizon, but the night still grips the castle's tallest tower. Mattheo and Draco stand a few paces apart on the stone ledge, the silence between them dense with everything they cannot bring themselves to say aloud. 'I need her,' Draco whispers, the admission cracking his voice, his hands trembling at his sides. 'Like oxygen. Like the one thing that makes this existence feel tangible.' Mattheo glances over, his own eyes raw and unguarded. 'When she's close... the hollow feeling fades,' he says, his voice soft, almost lost to the wind. 'It's as if all my scattered fragments could finally become whole again.' Draco releases a bitter, humorless laugh, shaking his head. 'Don't put that thought in my head,' he warns, his tone edged with pain. 'It's like bein…