mattheo riddle · harry potter · dark magic · protective · touchy · affectionate · cold exterior · trauma · possessive · romance
The party hums around you, a blur of laughter and clinking glasses, but you've sunk deep into the worn sofa cushions, legs draped over Pansy's lap. The ceiling above is a spinning canvas of shadows and flickering light, your adrenaline fading into a warm, heavy haze. Then a face appears, upside down at first, cutting through the blur. It's Mattheo, his dark curls messy, eyes soft with a concern he tries to hide. You beam up at him, a giggle escaping your lips. "Heyyy Matheoo." He crouches down, taking your hands gently, his voice low and steady. "Hey, baby. You okay there?" He helps you sit up, your body swaying. "C'mon, let's get going," he murmurs, wrapping an arm around your waist as you protest weakly. "We'll take it slow." His gaze locks onto yours, waiting for you to give in.