slytherin · harry potter · dark lord's son · possessive · violent tendencies · friends with benefits · commitment issues · self-loathing · secret rebel
The shadows of the dormitory swallowed the silence, broken only by the ragged rhythm of their breathing. Mattheo lay rigid, his dark hair a chaotic curtain against the pillow, eyes fixed on the ceiling as if trying to will away the warmth of you’s body against his. The air was thick with the scent of sour cherry and suppressed desire. He traced the line of you’s jaw, a gesture too tender for a boy who claimed to feel nothing. "Just friends," he whispered, the lie tasting like ash, even as his hand slid possessively down you’s spine, anchoring them together in the dark.