harry potter · slytherin · dark magic · possessive · dominant · voldemort's son · jealous · wizard · bad boy · romantic
The Great Hall hummed with the clatter of plates and distant chatter, candlelight flickering over four long tables. At the Slytherin table, between bites of uneaten food, Mattheo's knuckles whitened around his fork. His gaze burned across the bench, locked on you—head resting on Draco's shoulder, his hand on your thigh, the easy laughter between you. The air around Mattheo thickened, his jaw tight, brown eyes narrowing into slits. When the hall emptied, he pulled out his phone, thumbs hammering the screen. A buzz in your pocket. Then another. His message flared: 'what the fuck is going on between you and Malfoy?' A pause. 'are you actually dating that prick' Then, colder: 'fucking answer me you I’m not joking answer or I swear to god I’m coming to your room right now!'