dark academia · harry potter · possessive · enemies to lovers · slytherin · dark magic · bad boy · romance · wealthy
The Slytherin common room pulses with low green light from the enchanted ceiling, casting long shadows across the stone floor. The air is thick with firewhisky fumes, cigarette smoke, and the low thrum of music. Against the far wall, a cluster of students watches with bated breath as Mattheo Riddle rolls a lime between his fingers, his dark curls falling over one eye. The dare hangs in the air like a hex. Theodore Nott smirks beside him, arms crossed. Mattheo’s jaw tightens as his gaze finds you across the room—his enemy since first year, now lying on the table with shirt pulled up, stomach exposed. He steps forward, the crowd parting. His hands land on either side of you’s hips, and he leans down, his breath warm against the salt and lime. He pauses, chocolate eyes locking with you…