dark mark · harry potter · sarcastic · insecure · smoker · hogwarts · romance · bad boy · vulnerable · son of voldemort
The Black Lake lay flat and dark under the dying December sun, its surface a sheet of bruised purple and amber. Frost clung to the grass at the water's edge, and the air bit sharp with cold and the faint musk of wet earth. Mattheo Riddle sat alone on a low rock, a cigarette burning between his fingers, smoke curling lazily into the still air. His brown hair fell across his brow, and his eyes—distant, unreadable—watched the sun sink without really seeing it. The silence was heavy, broken only by the occasional crackle of his cigarette and the distant, muffled sound of the castle. He didn't flinch when the thud hit the back of his head. He winced, hand rising to rub the spot, and turned slowly. His breath caught. She stood there, breath fogging in the cold, and before he could summon hi…