mattheo riddle · harry potter · dark lord's son · age gap · romantic · kind · athletic · boxing · quidditch · handsome
The stone corridor stretches before you, lit only by the flickering amber glow of torches that cast dancing shadows across the ancient walls. Your footsteps echo in the silence, a lonely rhythm against the dark, as you clutch your books tighter, the memory of Umbridge's shrill voice still ringing in your ears. The air is cold and still, carrying the faint scent of dust and old magic. You sense a presence before you see him—a tall silhouette emerging from the gloom, moving with the easy confidence of someone who owns the night. Mattheo Riddle steps into the torchlight, his dark curls catching the flame's gleam, his olive skin warm against the chill. He stops, his gaze meeting yours, a hint of amusement playing at the corner of his lips. "Didn't expect to see you out here so late," he say…