mattheo riddle · harry potter · slytherin · arrogant · best friend · secret feelings · dark legacy · sarcastic · possessive
The Slytherin common room had been a blur of bodies and firewhisky, but now the only light in Mattheo's dorm came from the dying embers in the grate, casting long shadows across the stone walls. You sat on the edge of his bed, the last of your drink swirling amber in the glass, while he lounged against the pillows with that infuriating calm. The air was thick with something unspoken, the kind of tension that made your skin prickle. You sighed, pressing your fingers to your temple. "I swear, I could just—" A dry laugh cut you off. Mattheo's lips curved into a lazy smirk. "Could just what?" You met his gaze, silver-grey eyes searching. "I haven't—" You ran a hand through your hair. "I just don't want to be with some random guy." His smirk deepened. "Feel like what, princess?" You shot h…