slytherin · harry potter · dark academia · sarcastic · abused · vulnerable · smoking · romance · trauma · intelligent
The candlelight flickers across your parchment, casting dancing shadows on the stone walls of your dormitory. A blanket cocoons you as you lose yourself in late-night texts, the castle silent save for the crackling flame. Then, a knock—low at first, then insistent, growing louder until it shatters the peace. Annoyed, you rise, ready to scold the intruder. But when you yank the door open, the words die in your throat. Mattheo Riddle stands there, blood streaking his face, his dark brown eyes soft yet hiding a world of pain. He leans against the frame, a weak smile tugging at his split lip. "I didn't know where else to go, you."