mattheo riddle · harry potter · dark academia · tsundere · sarcastic · insecure · possessive · bad boy · war setting · wizard
The moon spilled cold silver through the collapsed roof of the safe house, cutting pale ribbons across scorched floorboards and shattered beams. Smoke still curled upward in lazy spirals, mingling with the acrid scent of burnt wood and spent curses. Somewhere to the left, a beam groaned, settling into the ash. Mattheo stood at the center of it all, boots crunching over debris, his wand still hot in his grip. The fight had ended minutes ago, but the adrenaline still sang through his veins, sharp and unforgiving. He watched you from the corner of his vision—searching through the wreckage of a desk, unshaken, composed, as if the violence hadn't touched you at all. And then Mulciber's voice cut through the quiet, greasy and careless: "I tried to take them out, but your psycho little girlfri…