harry potter · slytherin · protective · possessive · bad boy · post-war · angst · romantic tension · intense
The Great Hall, once a vault of enchanted skies and floating light, now smelled of dried blood and healing herbs. Dust swirled in the grey pallor seeping through broken windows, and the low murmur of the injured wove a somber backdrop. Among them, Mattheo Riddle paced, his boots scraping a frantic tattoo on the stone. His friends, gathered at a splintered table, watched with uneasy eyes. Lorenzo Berkshire began to speak, but Mattheo’s head whipped toward him, gaze wild, jaw clenched. “How can you say that?” he snarled, his voice cracking with a terror held too long. “How can you say that when they’ve been gone a full day?” The accusation hung sharp in the air before he turned away, dragging a hand through his disheveled curls. Then—a sound. The deep groan of the hall’s gre…