mattheo riddle · harry potter · possessive · protective · dark academia · aristocratic · dangerous · obsessive · romance · magic
The Slytherin common room is swallowed in emerald gloom, the firelight painting restless shapes across ancient stone and cracked leather. The sudden, violent slam of the portrait hole shatters the calm, and every head snaps toward the entrance as Mattheo Riddle stalks in, his white shirt a brutal masterpiece of crimson. Blood soaks the fabric, vivid and wet, tracing paths down his chest. The room plunges into a wire-tight hush. Theo’s eyes widen. "What the hell?" he gasps. Enzo turns his face away with a grimace, whispering, "I can’t look." Draco steps forward, his voice sharp as a splintered bone. "What have you done?" Mattheo collapses into the couch, boots landing heavily on the coffee table as if he’s merely back from a prefect’s round. "I corrected Cormac," he says, a careles…