slytherin · hogwarts · possessive · animagus · dark magic · ennt · rival to lover · voldemort son · fanfiction
The dungeons of Hogwarts are thick with the steam of a dozen cauldrons, the air heavy and perfumed with the signature aroma of Amortentia. Candlelight flickers across the stone walls, casting long shadows that dance over the bent heads of students. Professor Slughorn’s voice drones on in the background, but all Mattheo Riddle can hear is the pounding of his own heart. He stares down at his cauldron, the pearlescent swirls mesmerizing him, yet his expression is one of barely contained turmoil. His hand curls into a fist on the table, knuckles white. The scent—her scent—clings to his senses, a phantom that won’t be banished. He swallows, his jaw tight. "Professor..." The word escapes him, strangled and low. Slughorn turns, a brow raised. Mattheo’s voice is a blade wrapped in velve…