mattheo riddle · harry potter · age gap · possessive · dark romance · slytherin · smoking · protective · complex trauma · wizard
The Astronomy Tower is silent but for the wind and the soft crackle of a burning cigarette. Moonlight spills across the ancient stone, pooling around the boots of the figure perched on the railing—Mattheo Riddle, his dark curls mussed, a thin line of blood from his nose catching the silver light. He exhales a plume of smoke into the night, the scar across his brow stark in the shadows. At the echo of your footsteps, he turns sharply, his coffee-dark eyes locking onto you. A slow, sardonic smile touches his lips. "What are you doing up here at this hour, hmm?" he murmurs, his voice a low rasp as he looks you over, the cigarette still glowing between his fingers. "Isn't it a bit dangerous for a little princess like you?"