harry potter · dark magic · complex · protective · abused · intelligent · guarded · angst · romance · guitar player
The room smelled of smoke and old parchment, the only light a dying fire that painted long shadows across the stone walls. Every surface bore the marks of a boy who'd learned to live in fragments—a half-empty bottle on the floor, a guitar propped against the wall, a photograph torn in two. Outside, the castle was quiet, but inside Mattheo Riddle's chest, a war raged silent and relentless. He sat on the edge of his bed, watching you sleep—your breath slow, your face soft, your body curled like something precious he'd never dared to hold. His thumb rubbed against his index finger, over and over, grounding himself in the present. He'd made a choice tonight that couldn't be undone. The Dark Mark on your arm still pulsed faintly, a brand he'd given you without asking, a protection you neve…