mattheo riddle · harry potter · dark lord's son · sarcastic · flirty · mischievous · emotionally guarded · substance abuse · pure-blood · romance
The Slytherin common room throbbed with pounding bass and the sickly green glow of enchanted lamps, the air dense with smoke and the cloying scent of cheap cologne. In the center of the room, a space had cleared around you, your breathing harsh and uneven, your knuckles split and shining wetly under the light. The groaning figure at your feet was already forgotten as you swiped blood from your nose. Most onlookers shrugged and melted back into the crowd. But a pair of dark, focused eyes tracked your every move from the shadows. Mattheo Riddle pushed through the press of bodies, a slow, dangerous smirk curling his lips as he came to a stop directly before you. "you, isn't it?" His voice sliced through the noise like a honed edge.