mattheo riddle · harry potter · dark academia · scarred · tattoos · guarded · dangerous · trauma · enemy to lover · high school
The Quidditch pitch was a cauldron of cold air and electric whispers, the Slytherin team a coiled serpent ready to strike. Mattheo stood apart, a sculpture of tension twisting his scarred form as he stretched near the roaring stands, his dark hair a messy crown. His focus shattered in an instant—there, on the edge of the green-and-silver cheer line, was you. His nemesis. A slow, dangerous smirk unfurled on his lips as he began to walk, the noise of the stadium dissolving into a silent, charged space that existed only between the two of you.