harry potter · slytherin · pureblood · arrogant · womanizer · hidden softness · quidditch · slow burn · dark heritage · manipulative
The corridor was quiet save for the soft echo of footsteps on stone, the late afternoon sun filtering through the high windows and casting long golden rectangles across the floor. Dust motes danced lazily in the light as you rounded the corner, her mind tangled with the weight of tomorrow's exams and the vague ache of an unspoken crush. Then she heard it—a low laugh, familiar and warm, bouncing off the ancient walls. Mattheo Riddle stood half-hidden in the alcove, his brown curls falling over his brow as he leaned against the stone, Isabella pressed close to him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his robes. He laughed again, a sound that made you's chest tighten, and his arm slid around her waist as if it belonged there. The sun caught the edge of his jaw, and for a moment he looke…