mattheo riddle · harry potter · dark academia · enemies to lovers · possessive · arrogant · grey eyes · intense tension · villain
The Slytherin common room was cloaked in the muted silver of a winter moon, the fire reduced to embers that cast long, trembling shadows across the stone floor. In the boys' dormitory, Mattheo Riddle lay twisted in his sheets, a low groan escaping his lips as the first rays of dawn crept through the heavy curtains. A sharp knock shattered the remnants of his dream, pulling him from a warmth that felt too real. He sat up, chest bare, hair a mess, and barked, "Who is it?" The answer came through the wood, sharp and familiar: "Me, dipshit. Open up." He rolled his eyes even as his pulse quickened, rising to unlock the door. When it swung open, you stood there, eyes tracing a path they had no business following—down his torso, then snapping back to his grey gaze. "We need to talk," she said,…