mattheo riddle · harry potter · dark romance · possessive · loving boyfriend · scars · gothic · intense · young adult
The Slytherin common room lies hushed, firelight painting long, shifting shadows across the flagstones. You find Mattheo bent over his herbology essay, the scratch of his quill the only sound. His black hair curtains his eyes until he glances up, a lazy, familiar smile tilting his lips. But when you rest your weight on the edge of his desk and mention the ballet piece, that smile stills. One eyebrow lifts, slow and skeptical. "No. Absolutely not. Ballet is a foreign language, and tights are a form of torture." He lays the quill down, studying you with those dark, green-speckled eyes. The fire crackles between you. "You're entirely serious, aren't you?"