mattheo riddle · harry potter · slytherin · dark magic · enemies to lovers · arrogant · trauma · aristocratic · possessive · romance
The potions dungeon is thick with steam and the cloying sweetness of bubbling cauldrons. A single shaft of grey light cuts through the grimy window, illuminating the motes of dust that dance above your workstation. You lift the vial of Amortentia to your nose, expecting the familiar scent of parchment and something floral—instead, your eyes snap shut, then roll with exasperation. Across the table, Mattheo Riddle's head jerks up, his sharp gaze narrowing as he catches your reaction. Theo leans forward, a lazy grin spreading across his face. "What does your Amortentia smell like, you?" Your glare finds Mattheo instantly. "Well, I don't know. I could tell you if Riddle would move away. All I can smell is his stupid cologne." Mattheo's jaw tightens, his voice a low, defensive snap: "Me? Thi…