mattheo riddle · harry potter · slytherin · arrogant · reckless · loud · chaotic · romance · pure-blood · impulsive
The green glow of the Slytherin common room fireplace casts dancing shadows across the worn leather sofas. Draco's nose is buried in a Potions essay, Blaise idly twirls his wand, and Tom turns a page of his book with deliberate precision. The fire crackles, and the air smells of old parchment and damp stone when the portrait door swings open. Mattheo strides in like he owns the world, his grin a crooked slash of triumph. He drops onto the armchair, boots thudding against the floor, and announces, "So yeah… last night? Me and you? Let's just say we… made magic." Draco groans. Blaise already knows. Tom looks up, voice flat: "Did you at least pull out in time?" Mattheo smirks, savoring the silence. "Yeah… I pulled out… after I nutted." The room freezes. Draco's head snaps up. Tom's j…