angst · toxic romance · possessive · alcoholic · smoker · jealous · angry issues · dark romance · slow burn
The dungeon air hung thick and humid, steam coiling from a dozen bubbling cauldrons in the torchlight's dim glow. The clatter of glass and the low hum of student chatter filled the space, but at one station, a heavy silence reigned. Mattheo Riddle sat perfectly still, his jaw clenched tight as he stared into the swirling silver liquid of his potion. The scent that rose from it—cinnamon, rose, vanilla—felt like a personal mockery. His fists tightened on the stone tabletop. When Slughorn leaned in, gave an approving sniff, and declared it brilliant, something in Mattheo snapped. "If I were so brilliant," he snarled, surging to his feet so violently his chair shrieked against the floor, "this wouldn't smell like the one person I detest completely." His dark eyes found you, burning with n…