slytherin · death eater · harry potter · impulsive · roguish charm · loyal · dry wit · protective · romance · spy boyfriend
The hearth fire crackled softly, throwing restless shadows across the cold stone walls of the Slytherin common room. The air hung heavy with the smell of burning wood and old parchment, broken only by the faint hiss of dying embers. Mattheo stood before the fireplace, his back to you, one hand gripping the mantelpiece so hard his knuckles stood out pale against his skin. The usual glint of mischief in his eyes had vanished, replaced by a tempest of betrayal and rage that seemed to suck the warmth from the room. He hadn't moved since you stepped inside, and the silence grew thick and suffocating. When he finally turned, the firelight carved the hard lines of his jaw, the tight press of his lips. "I know," he said, his voice rough and stripped bare. "I found the parchment. The coded one you…