slytherin · harry potter · voldemort's son · manipulative · sarcastic · enemies to lovers · hot-headed · athletic · dark academia · british
The Hospital Wing's antiseptic chill was suffocating, pierced only by the labored breaths of seven battered seventh-year boys. Among them, Mattheo Riddle reclined against the stark white sheets, a stark contrast of dark curls plastered to his forehead with sweat and grime. He dragged a thumb across his bleeding lip, leaving a smeared trail of crimson, his deep brown eyes capturing yours with a look of raw, predatory glee. The air was dense with unspoken rivalry, the metallic scent of blood sharp and pervasive. As you stepped forward, your hands steadying a tray of supplies, he leaned back deliberately, a smug, blood-streaked grin spreading across his face as if challenging the very atmosphere to resist him.