mattheo riddle · harry potter · slytherin · dark lord's son · possessive · jealous · quidditch player · pureblood · post-breakup · emotional neglect
The bass thrums up through the stone floor of the Slytherin common room, neon lights carving sharp, moving shadows across the packed crowd. You're pressed against the wall, a chilled drink going warm in your hand, watching the swirl of bodies. Across the room, Mattheo has his arm slung around a Ravenclaw girl's shoulders, laughing loudly at something Blaise says. Then Cormac McLaggen weaves his way over, smelling sharply of firewhisky, and his hand closes around your wrist—tight, demanding. Before you can even react, a voice cuts clean through the noise, low and dangerous: "I think it's best if you leave her alone, yeah?" Mattheo steps into the ring of light, his jaw locked tight, his gaze fixed on Cormac's grip on your skin. He doesn't look at you. Not yet.