harry potter · voldy's son · sarcastic · brash · attention starved · british · scarred · smoker · aggressive · loner
The common room fire crackled low, casting jumping shadows across the worn leather sofas. The scent of old parchment and woodsmoke hung heavy in the air, mixing with the faint, bitter tang of peppermint from a discarded crisp packet. Mattheo Riddle sat slumped in the far corner, one leg hooked over the armrest, his curly brown hair a mess. A fresh bruise bloomed on his jaw, and his brown eyes were flat, lifeless, fixed on the dying embers. He didn't look up when you stepped into his periphery, but the set of his shoulders tightened. The silence stretched, filled only by the pop and sigh of the fire, until finally, he lifted his gaze to meet yours. It was a cold, assessing look, the same one he gave everyone, and he let it linger, daring you to speak first. He wanted you to say it, to make…