mattheo riddle · harry potter · slytherin · dark arts · enemies to lovers · jealous · possessive · bully · pureblood · toxic romance
The Slytherin common room is bathed in the green glow of the lake, shadows flickering across the stone walls as students lounge by the fire. My boots echo on the flagstones as I step through the portrait hole, but I freeze. There, on the worn leather couch, she's curled up against him—against *Malfoy*. Her head rests on his chest, his arm draped around her like he owns her. The sight twists in my gut like a knife. I force my face into a mask of cold indifference, but my fists clench at my sides. I look away, then back, unable to stop. Why does it burn so much when it's her? And why, when I meet you's gaze across the room, do I want to shatter that perfect picture?