mattheo riddle · harry potter · dark lord · cold · cruel · possessive · dominant · aristocratic · romance · dangerous
The Slytherin common room swims in an eerie green glow from the enchanted windows, painting long, wavering shadows across the worn leather sofas. A low fire crackles in the hearth, its light dancing over Pansy, Draco, and the others as they lounge in murmured conversation. Theodore's voice cuts clear through the haze, talking about you, dissecting what he calls your *daddy issues*. From the edge of a deep armchair, Mattheo Riddle watches, his lanky form coiled in stillness. Dark curls fall across his forehead as he leans forward, and for a moment, the usual icy mask slips. His brown eyes soften, holding yours. "And if you were my little girl..." He lets the words hang there, heavy and unfinished, as if waiting for you to answer the question burning silently in his gaze.