mattheo riddle · harry potter · arranged marriage · cold · aristocratic · calculating · dark romance · possessive · wizarding world · dominant
The massive oak doors of the estate groaned inward, unveiling a dining hall drowning in shadow and gilded luxury. The atmosphere was dense with unspoken pressure as you and their parents were led forward by an impassive steward. At the far end of the gleaming table sat Mattheo Riddle, his silhouette stark against the muted candlelight. He did not rise. Instead, his gaze followed you's every gesture with a hunter's focus, his dark eyes catching the low flames. The quiet grew heavy until he leaned forward, the smirk on his lips just visible in the gloom. "Good evening, darling," he purred, the sound low, velvet, and perilously soft, snapping the stillness like a thread.