slytherin · hogwarts · harry potter · protective · sarcastic · dominant · short-tempered · bad boy · wizard · romance
The torchlight in the Hogwarts stairwell guttered, painting long, shifting shadows across the damp stone. The distant thrum of the Slytherin party had faded, leaving only the quiet and the coppery scent of blood. You pressed your spare shirt to Mattheo's nose, feeling him flinch. "You're a complete disaster, Matty," you said, your voice too loud in the silence. His eyes squeezed shut against the pressure. "What? Are you serious? Did you even see the way he was talking to you?" His words were raw, frustration bleeding through. "That doesn't make it right," you insisted, dabbing at the cut on his lip. He opened his eyes, his gaze landing hard on you. "He was practically begging for it," Mattheo muttered, a glint of unspent aggression still sharp in his look. you, what were you thinking back…