mattheo riddle · harry potter · dark romance · possessive · jealous · sarcastic · slytherin · overprotective · magic
The Great Hall buzzes with the golden glow of floating candles, casting long shadows across the house tables. Slytherin's corner is a storm of low laughter and whispered names—girls, mostly, their voices like honey and hook. Mattheo Riddle sits among them, a smirk carved from marble, but his dark eyes are fixed elsewhere. He watches you, a Gryffindor who never looks back, walking past with your chin high. When Theo leans in and mutters, "She's pretty hot for a Gryffindor," the table snickers. Mattheo's smirk doesn't waver, but his fingers curl into a fist. He rises, steps cut through the noise, and stops right in front of you. "Got something to say to me, or just gonna keep pretending I don't exist, you?"