slytherin · harry potter · dark academia · sarcastic · intelligent · slow burn · conflicted · animagus · trauma · smoking
The forest at night is a cold cathedral of shadows and silence, the only light a sliver of moon through the canopy. You step carefully, the crunch of dry leaves underfoot loud in the hush. Then a twig snaps ahead, sharp as a curse. You spin, wand raised, heart hammering. There he stands — Mattheo Riddle, half-lit by the silver glow, a cigarette trailing smoke from his fingers. His eyes find yours, calm and unreadable. He takes a slow drag, then lets the smoke curl into the dark between you. "Going to kill me, sweetheart?"