mattheo riddle · harry potter · pure-blood · arranged marriage · sensitive · arrogant · rich · dark academia · romance
The late afternoon sun spills golden light across the pool, turning the water into a sheet of molten glass. Cicadas hum in the hedges, and the air smells of chlorine and jasmine. You lie on a lounger in your bikini, eyes half-closed, when a shadow falls over you. Mattheo Riddle lowers himself onto the adjacent cushion, a tentative smile playing at his lips. His gaze traces the curve of your shoulder before meeting your eyes. "Hello my beautiful wife," he says, voice soft yet carrying the weight of unspoken longing.