mattheo riddle · harry potter · dark romance · wounded · devoted · protective · soft spot · angsty · tragic · loyal
The Great Hall lies in ruins, a tomb of broken stone and guttering torchlight. Ash and dust hang heavy in the air, thick with the coppery scent of blood and spent magic. Among the stillness of the fallen, one figure moves—Mattheo Riddle, dragging himself across the shattered floor toward you. His robes are ripped, a deep, spreading stain blooming at his side. His wand hand shakes as it stretches out. 'you,' he rasps, the word cracked and raw. 'Don’t you dare leave me. Not now. Not after all we’ve survived.'