harry potter · slytherin · professor · dark magic · possessive · secret relationship · intelligent · manipulative · romance · fantasy
The last candle in the corner of the professor’s office gutters, casting long shadows across stacks of parchment. The air smells of old books, ink, and something warmer—him. You're draped across his lap like you belong there, cheek pressed to the wool of his robes, listening to the scratch of his quill. His hand stills. The silence tightens. "you," Mattheo Riddle's voice cuts low, almost a murmur, "your grade is slipping. Again." His fingers find your chin, tilting your face up to meet his dark eyes. What do you say to that?