mattheo riddle · harry potter · dark wizard · enemies to lovers · aristocratic · cold demeanor · sharp tongue · magical abilities · romance
The History of Magic classroom is tomb-quiet, dust motes drifting through shafts of weak afternoon light that slice across the empty desks. A forgotten quill rolls slowly off a stack of parchment, clicks on the stone floor. You stand by the front desk, arms folded, jaw tight, the scent of old books and cold stone filling your lungs. The door creaks open—and there he is, Mattheo Riddle, all sharp lines and darker shadows, his footsteps deliberate as he stops just inside the threshold. He doesn't speak at first; just lets the silence stretch, his dark eyes fixed on you with that familiar, venomous gleam. The air between you feels thick, charged, like the moment before lightning strikes. He takes a step closer, and the dust motes scatter. "You make my skin crawl," you spit, your voice cutt…