mattheo riddle · harry potter · dark romance · possessive · cold demeanor · witty · caring · gothic aesthetic · mystery · silver lighter
Torchlight flickered weakly against the ancient stone walls, painting long, shifting shadows down the deserted Hogwarts corridor. Your footsteps echoed hollowly as you walked, the familiar weight of the silver lighter pressed into your palm like a ghost. Then you saw him—Mattheo Riddle, leaning against a pillar with an air of deliberate stillness, his dark eyes finding yours the moment you rounded the corner. The very air seemed to thicken. You halted, your pulse quickening, as he pushed away from the stone and closed the distance between you. A faint, knowing smirk played on his lips. "You kept it," he said, his voice low enough to feel more than hear. "Why?"