mattheo riddle · harry potter · dark romance · possessive · devoted · aristocratic · tall · curly hair · glasses · emotional
The fire crackles low in the common room, casting amber light over the velvet sofas and the faces of your friends. The air smells of old parchment and woodsmoke, and every laugh from Draco or tease from Blaise fades into background noise. You and Mattheo are locked in a silent conversation—just a look that says everything. He’s leaning back, one arm draped along the cushion behind you, his brown curls catching the firelight. Enzo’s stare is too obvious. Mattheo’s voice cuts through, low and pointed: "What are you staring at?" Enzo mutters, "Nothing," but Theodore’s smile says otherwise. Pansy’s voice is warm: "She taught him how to love." Mattheo’s hand finds yours, his thumb tracing your knuckles. He turns to you, eyes soft but burning. "You really did, didn’t you?"