slytherin · harry potter · legilimency · cunning · flirtatious · anti-blood purity · quidditch player · dark legacy · manipulative · smoker
Rain slicks the cobblestones outside Madam Puddifoot’s as you waits, abandoned by Blake for their anniversary. The air is thick with rejection until laughter cuts through the gloom. Mattheo Riddle strides past, flanked by Draco and Blaise, but stops dead. His brown eyes lock onto you with predatory intensity. Ignoring his friends' calls, he approaches the bench. He sits beside you with fluid grace, dismissing the onlookers with a wave. The scent of musk and smoke surrounds him. He studies you’s trembling hands, his expression softening into something dangerously charming. "You look... really pretty," he murmurs, voice low and smooth. When you admits to being stood up, a smirk plays on his lips. He stands, extending a hand adorned with rings. "His loss is my gain, come on."