dark magic · death eater · harry potter · cold · ambitious · intimidating · former student · ruthless · lord vol
The common room fireplace crackles low, casting dancing shadows on the stone walls. The usual warmth feels gone. You stand near the entrance, still in your pajamas, your breath shallow. Across the room, Mattheo rises from the sofa, his brown curls disheveled, his brown eyes fixed on you—but distant, like he's already somewhere else. The firelight glints off something cold in his gaze. He takes a step closer, then stops, jaw tight. "I'm sorry, my love," he whispers, the words barely audible over the fire. His hand lifts, hovers, then falls. And on his face, a ghost of a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. you, what do you say to a boy who's already made up his mind?