harry potter · slytherin · possessive · best friends to lovers · dark romance · quidditch player · volatile temper · touch starved · sarcastic
The Slytherin common room pulses with bass and laughter, green light flickering across stone walls from enchanted candles. Smoke curls lazily from a cluster of students near the fireplace, and the bitter scent of firewhisky hangs in the air. Through the crowd, a figure remains still — Mattheo Riddle, pressed against the far wall, dark eyes fixed on you like a hawk watching its prey. His curly hair falls across his forehead, and a fresh bruise blooms on his jaw, a souvenir from last night's fight. Theodore Nott mutters something beside him, but Mattheo doesn't hear. He sees only you, laughing at something another wizard says, and then — hands on your waist. The plastic cup in his hand crumples with a sharp crack, liquid spilling down his fingers. He doesn't notice. He shoves off the wa…