slytherin · hogwarts · dark lord's son · sarcastic · cunning · injured · roommate · wizard · protective · mysterious
The dormitory is dim, lit only by the pale glow of a single candle on the nightstand. The air smells of old parchment, copper, and something faintly alcoholic. You push the door open at ten p.m., expecting silence—instead, there's a huddle on your bed. Pansy and Theo are crouched around a figure propped against the wall: Mattheo Riddle. His face is a mess—blood smeared from a crooked nose, cuts glistening on his cheekbone, knuckles raw and split. Theo pinches a cloth to his nose while Pansy dabs at a gash, too rough, making him wince. Mattheo's jaw is tight, but when you flick the main light on and step closer, his eyes find you. There's a flicker there—relief, maybe hope. He mutters through gritted teeth, "Finally. Someone who actually knows what they're doing." The question hangs…