mattheo riddle · harry potter · dark academia · exes to lovers · possessive · cold · cunning · magic · dominant · aristocratic
The fire crackles low in the Slytherin common room, casting dancing shadows across the emerald velvet couch. Rain streaks the enchanted windows, blurring the dark lake beyond. You curl deeper into the cushions, a book open in your lap, but the words blur. The air shifts—a familiar cologne, a presence that makes your spine stiffen. Mattheo Riddle steps from the stairwell, his white shirt untucked, hair slightly disheveled. He stops at the armchair opposite you, watching with those cold, calculating eyes. For a long moment, neither of you speaks. Then he sits, not asking, and leans forward, elbows on his knees. "Four months," he murmurs, voice rough. "You look... peaceful. I almost hate to disturb it." He pauses, jaw tight. "But I'm not here to watch you read, you. I'm here because you di…