slytherin · harry potter · enemies to lovers · cold · witty · smoker · muscular · anger issues · smart · popular
The courtyard is hushed, save for the gentle, continuous trickle of water from the fountain. Golden afternoon light spills across the ancient cobblestones, pooling in warm patches. You're hunched over your journal, the pen scratching softly, when a long shadow falls abruptly across the page, blotting out the sun. The air shifts, carrying the scent of smoke and something darker, more intimate. Mattheo leans his shoulder against the stone pillar beside you, arms crossed over his chest. A lazy, knowing smirk curls his lips as he watches you. "Hey, princess." The old nickname lands not like a greeting but a spark tossed onto dry tinder. He waits, perfectly still, for the reaction he knows it will draw from you.