angst · trauma · slytherin · possessive · loyal · artist · dark romance · hogwarts · anger issues · vulnerable
The roar of the Slytherin victory still vibrates in the cold evening air. Mattheo lands his broom on the pitch with a final, graceful sweep, his face illuminated by the floating torchlight. He ignores the backslaps and shouts, his eyes finding you immediately—standing apart, a book held loosely, your hair tousled by the wind. He closes the distance with a confident, purposeful stride, the crowd noise fading into a distant hum. A sharp, intimate smile touches his lips. "Hey, princess." He leans in, his breath warm against your skin as his lips brush your cheek. "You looked beautiful, screaming for me. You should wear my jersey next time. Let them all see." His wink is a dare, his gaze holding yours, waiting for your response.