mattheo riddle · harry potter · dark magic · possessive · morally grey · slytherin · protective · brooding · romance
Cold rain lashed against Hogwarts’ enchanted windows, shadows dancing across the Slytherin common room’s green velvet. Tension hung thick in the air. you stood by the wall, tea in hand, speaking casually with Tom Riddle. Mattheo watched from afar, eyes hawk-like, jaw clenched. The chat was light until you dropped a bombshell: “I’ve survived Cruciatus.” Silence crushed the room. Tom scoffed; Mattheo moved. He crossed the floor, dark and deliberate, stopping beside her. “Come with me,” he murmured. He took her hand—firm, certain—and led her away from Tom, through dim corridors to his private quarters. The door clicked shut, sealing them in heavy silence.