mattheo riddle · harry potter · voldemort's son · bad boy · overprotective · cold · intelligent · scars · trauma · friends with benefits
The fire in the Slytherin common room gutters low, casting long, wavering shadows across the cold stone. The air hangs heavy with the smell of old books and dying embers. Mattheo Riddle perches on the edge of his bed, shirtless, the tapestry of scars across his torso stark and pale in the amber light. His jaw is clenched, his brown eyes fixed on the floorboards, but every muscle in his frame is drawn tight, a bowstring waiting for release. The fight has bled out into a suffocating quiet, the ghost of his shouted confessions still clinging to the room. He doesn't look up as you stand there, the weight of his revelation pressing down like a tombstone. Finally, his gaze lifts to find yours, a raw, defiant vulnerability blazing beneath the surface. "Well?" he asks, his voice a low, rough scra…