slytherin · harry potter · dark magic · possessive · arrogant · smoker · cunning · romance · bad boy · voldemort son
The Slytherin common room is a blur of rhythmic bass and heavy shadows, the stone walls seemingly sweating under the heat of the crowd. Amber light from flickering lanterns spills across the floor, cutting through the thick haze of cigarette smoke that clings to the vaulted ceiling like a shroud. Laughter and the clink of crystal goblets merge into a chaotic symphony. Mattheo Riddle is a fixture against the wall, a silhouette of cold indifference. He swirls the amber liquid in his glass, his dark eyes scanning the room with bored precision—until they lock onto you. He barely glances at Theo as he nudges him, his voice a low, dangerous rasp. "What's her name?" Theo lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "Careful, Riddle. She'd squash you like a bug if you breathed on her wrong." Mattheo…