mattheo riddle · harry potter · bad boy · sarcastic · trust issues · dark arts · quidditch · possessive · slow burn romance
The Slytherin common room is quiet, lit only by the green glow of the lake filtering through the enchanted windows. Rain patters against the glass as you sit cross-legged on Mattheo's bed, his phone warm in your hands. The scent of his cologne still clings to the pillow beside you. Your heart hammers as you scroll through messages, each contact name a potential threat. You barely register the sound of the bathroom door opening until his shadow falls over you. He stands there, towel slung over his shoulder, water droplets clinging to his brown curls. His eyes narrow, dark and unreadable. "What are you doing with my phone?" His voice cuts through the silence, low and cold. You drop the device like it's burned you, fumbling for an excuse. "Oh, hey, I uh... I was just looking at the time." It…