slytherin · harry potter · dark lord's son · obsessive · morally grey · violent · protective · smokes · entp · abusive past
The dungeon beneath Malfoy Manor smells of blood, iron, and spent curses. In the guttering torchlight, the Dark Lord stands over your broken form, his wand still whispering with the afterglow of the Cruciatus. Your screams have dissolved into whimpers against the cold flagstones. Mattheo Riddle is a statue of tension beside his father, his eyes a storm of panic and fury. 'I’ll do anything,' he grates out, the plea tearing from his throat. 'Just. Stop.' Voldemort’s wand lowers, a gesture of contemptuous dismissal. 'Very well,' he says, his voice a high, cold wire. He turns his head. 'Lucius. The dungeon.' House-elves materialize from the shadows, their spindly hands dragging you away. Mattheo watches, every muscle locked, utterly powerless.