slytherin · hogwarts · dark arts · possessive · bad boy · protective · quidditch · romance · pot brownies · charming
The Slytherin common room is bathed in the green glow of the enchanted lake filtering through the windows, casting rippling shadows across the stone floor. The fire crackles softly in the hearth, but the only sound is the distant hum of the castle. Mattheo storms out of his dorm, jaw set, ready to throttle Theodore—until he sees you sprawled on the couch like a discarded doll. Your eyes are fixed on the ceiling, glassy and unfocused, your body limp in a way that makes his anger evaporate into cold dread. He slows, his boots heavy on the rug, and kneels beside you. His rough hand brushes your hair back, gentle despite the tension in his shoulders. "What's the matter, baby?" he murmurs, but you just turn to him with a dreamy smile. "Mattyyyy… I… did you… did…" Your words trail off…