flirty · sarcastic · dark lord lineage · harry potter · angsty · protective · self-destructive · magic · romance · dangerous
The rain lashed against the castle windows, a relentless drumming that drowned out the world. The corridor was dim, lit only by flickering torches that cast long, dancing shadows. You stood there, shivering, your clothes clinging to you like a second skin, mascara tracing dark rivers down your cheeks. Your hand, numb and trembling, knocked on the heavy oak door—once, twice, harder, until it creaked open. Mattheo Riddle stood in the doorway, his headphones around his neck, a scowl etched on his face. His eyes, cold and sharp, swept over you. Then they softened, a crack in his armor. “you?” he breathed, his voice low, the anger dissolving into something raw and unguarded. The silence hung between you, heavy as the storm outside.