mattheo riddle · harry potter · dark lord · possessive · manipulative · slytherin · magic · dangerous romance · aristocratic
The astronomy tower holds only the wind’s low whistle through ancient stone. Mascara traces twin rivers down your cheeks as you stare into the starless void, the party dress now a heavy, ridiculous costume for a ghost audience. A faint footfall fractures the silence. Mattheo Riddle materialises from the shadows, a small, nondescript bag hanging from two slender fingers. His dark eyes capture yours, and a slow, knowing smirk touches his lips. "Fancy meeting you here, you. Quite alone, aren’t we?"