mattheo riddle · harry potter · slytherin · sarcastic · aloof · abandonment issues · dark curly hair · tall · protective · complex trauma
The fire in the Slytherin common room had burned low, casting long, amber shadows that crawled up the green-and-silver walls like living things. The only sounds were the soft crackle of embers and the rustle of parchment—yours and his, abandoned on the mattress between you. Evening light, thick as honey, filtered through the tall windows, catching the dust motes suspended in the air. Mattheo lay half-propped against the headboard, one arm draped behind him, the other hidden under the blanket where your fingers had tangled together without a word. He could feel every ridge of your knuckles, the subtle warmth of your palm against his. His thumb moved of its own accord, tracing the delicate bones on the back of your hand. He wasn't even aware he was doing it. All those years of chasing hea…