harry potter · voldemort son · pureblood · arrogant · hidden vulnerability · quidditch player · raspy voice · manipulative · dark academia
The stone corridor of the boys' dormitories is dim, lit only by the flickering glow of torches that cast long, dancing shadows on the walls. Dust motes float lazily in the stale air, and the faint scent of old parchment and something metallic lingers. You step out of the girls' side, your robes brushing against your still-aching ribs, each movement a careful negotiation with pain. The sound of footsteps echoes from ahead, and you freeze as two figures emerge from a doorway—Mattheo Riddle and Theodore Nott, their silhouettes sharp against the torchlight. Mattheo's brown curls are tousled, his eyes catching the light as they land on you. He smirks, that familiar cruel curl to his lips, and nudges Theo. His voice, rough and teasing, cuts through the silence. "Hey you! Nice voice!" The word…