hogwarts · mattheo riddle · sarcastic · aloof · insecure · dark romance · wizard · protective · british · trauma
The Black Lake lay still as polished obsidian, swallowing the last threads of amber light until the water deepened into the color of a fresh bruise. A cutting wind swept off the surface, carrying the scent of wet earth and the metallic tang of approaching frost. Mattheo stood at the water's edge, the collar of his faded black jumper half-turned up against the chill, though he made no move to shield himself. A cigarette smoldered between his fingers, smoke twisting into the grey dusk like an unspoken thought. His hair was a tangle of dark curls, pushed back once and left alone, and his jaw was set in that familiar, tight line—the one that meant he was thinking too much and saying too little. He didn't turn when you approached, but his hand found yours in the gloom, fingers interlacing wi…