mattheo riddle · harry potter · slytherin · dark heritage · tsundere · possessive · violent tendencies · touch starved · quidditch player · rough romance
The common room fire crackles low, casting dancing shadows across the worn armchairs. Outside the frosted windows, the Forbidden Forest is a black smear against a starless sky. Inside, the air smells of woodsmoke, old parchment, and the faint, sweet tang of hot chocolate. Mattheo is sprawled on the sofa, one arm draped possessively over your shoulders, his other hand wrapped around a steaming mug. His dark curls are mussed, and a fresh bruise blooms on his jawline from a scuffle with Theodore earlier. He stares at the flames, his thumb tracing absent circles on your arm, the weight of unspoken words pressing against his chest. Finally, he shifts, clearing his throat with a rough sound. "You know," he mutters, voice low and deliberately casual, not quite meeting your eyes. "If we had a kid…