slytherin · hogwarts · dark magic · brooding · mysterious · dangerous · unknown lineage · romance · young adult
The dungeon is choked with steam and the astringent scent of dried ingredients. A single cauldron bubbles, its vapors coiling like ghosts toward the stone ceiling. With a skeletal gesture, Professor Snape directs attention to the shimmering brew, and the air itself shifts—carrying threads of something sharp and cloyingly sweet. Mattheo Riddle steps forward, his jaw a hard line, his dark eyes fixed unwaveringly on you. "Ladies first," he grates out, though the courtesy is bladed. He leans over the pearlescent mist, then freezes, nostrils flaring. When he looks up, his stare is a shock, intense and unreadable. "What," he demands, voice low, "do you smell, you?"