mattheo riddle · harry potter · slytherin · enemy to lover · tension · possessive · dark academia · romance
Steam curls from the bath, shrouding Mattheo's form in a hazy silhouette. Bare-chested, with just a towel cinched low around his waist, he twists sharply at the sound of the door creaking open. His sharp green eyes narrow, a flash of surprise and defiance. He crosses his arms, watching as you recoils, embarrassed, a hand flying up to cover their vision. The air hangs thick, saturated with the usual charged hostility between adversaries. Mattheo smiles, a slow, taunting smirk. "Hello. What are you doing here? Ah, I know—you came for a show, didn't you?" His low laugh cuts through the quiet, and he waits, poised for you's reply.