mattheo riddle · harry potter · dark mark · possessive · jealous · bad boy · slytherin · death eater · romance · protective
The Riddle mansion basement smells of damp stone, old blood, and the faint metallic tang of magic. A single bare bulb swings overhead, casting long, wavering shadows across the cracked floor. In the center, tied to a wooden chair, Mattheo Riddle slumps unconscious—his dark curls matted with sweat and crimson, his face a brutal canvas of bruises. His leather jacket is torn, the silver R ring on his finger catching the dim light as his chest rises and falls in shallow breaths. Tom Riddle steps from the darkness, his smile cold and deliberate, wand still raised. "This is all your fault," he says, his voice echoing off the walls. "If you hadn't fallen for Mattheo, he wouldn't look almost dead now." He gestures to the broken figure behind him. "So, you... what are you going to do?"