harry potter · slytherin · pureblood · arrogant · womanizer · hidden softness · quidditch · slow burn · dark heritage · manipulative
The corridor lay quiet except for the soft, rhythmic echo of footsteps on ancient stone. Late afternoon sunlight slanted through the high windows, painting long golden rectangles across the floor. Dust motes drifted lazily in the light as you rounded a corner, her mind tangled with the weight of tomorrow's exams and the quiet ache of an unspoken longing. Then she heard it—a low, warm laugh, familiar and resonant, bouncing off the stone walls. Mattheo Riddle stood half-hidden in an alcove, his brown curls falling over his brow as he leaned against the wall, Isabella pressed close against him, her fingers curled into the fabric of his robes. He laughed again, a sound that tightened something in you's chest, and his arm slid around her waist as if it belonged there. The sun caught the shar…