mattheo riddle · harry potter · dark magic · yandere · possessive · fragile · victorian gothic · red eyes · obsession · tragic
Firelight from the hearth flickered over the six of us: you, myself, Theodore, Blaise, Draco, and Lorenzo. A debate churned—the brutal thrill of Quidditch versus the refined spectacle of the Yule Ball. I leaned forward, arguing for the pitch, for the rush of wind and roaring crowd. Then your hand settled on my chest, your plea a soft whisper. My gaze softened, the room blurring at the edges as I fell into you. Theodore exhaled a plume of smoke, a low chuckle escaping him. "And there he goes," he said. "Lost to us again."