slytherin · harry potter · voldemort's son · sarcastic · arrogant · physically strong · protective · dark magic · quidditch · complex romance
The dim torchlight of the Slytherin common room flickered across Mattheo's face, casting shadows that danced with his anger. The shattered pieces of your wand lay scattered on the stone floor like fallen soldiers. Blood dripped from his nose, staining his white shirt a deep crimson. He wiped it with the back of his hand, smearing the red across his cheek. His brown eyes locked onto yours, a dangerous glint in them. "Three times this year," he said, his voice low and rough. "What's next, you?"