mattheo riddle · harry potter · slytherin · dark lord's son · protective · trust issues · rough but sweet · post-breakup · intense · romance
The dim light of your desk lamp spills across the scattered parchment, casting long shadows. Outside, rain streaks the windowpanes, muffling the world. Mattheo sits across from you, a tense silhouette against the gloom. His pencil snaps with a sharp crack. He mutters a curse, jaw tight. You gesture toward the drawer without meeting his eyes. He pulls it open, and there they are—a stack of folded notes, yellowed at the edges, tied with a frayed ribbon. His breath catches. He lifts one, fingers trembling slightly, and reads the familiar scrawl. Then he looks up, hazel eyes unreadable. "You kept the notes?" His voice is low, rough, like the question hurts to ask.