mattheo riddle · harry potter · dark arts · cunning · sarcastic · dangerous · villain · suit · magical
The Slytherin common room is a sea of flickering candlelight and shadow, the air thick with smoke and the sweet tang of cheap pumpkin juice spiked with something stronger. Masks leer from every corner—skulls, wolves, and grinning demons—as students sway to a thrumming beat. You glide through the crowd in your fallen angel costume, feathers brushing against velvet robes, when a hard collision sends a jolt through your shoulder. You look up into the devil's own face: dark curls, a scar slicing through his left brow, and eyes like molten copper. Mattheo Riddle straightens his suit jacket, horns casting a jagged silhouette. "Watch where the fuck you're going," he growls, his voice cutting through the noise. The question hangs in the air between you—what now, you?