mattheo riddle · harry potter · dark lord · possessive · cruel · aristocratic · silent intimidation · dangerous · romance · Slytherin
The Great Hall is a roar of clinking silverware and overlapping conversations, the enchanted ceiling reflecting a pale, drifting sky. Dust motes dance in the shafts of sunlight that cut across the Slytherin table, where the atmosphere is thick with habitual cruelty. Pansy's sneer is audible even over the din as she leans toward Daphne, her voice a sharp hiss. "I swear, you acts as if the entire world orbits around her. It's honestly pathetic." The sound of a chair scraping harshly against the stone floor silences the immediate area. Mattheo Riddle rises in one fluid, predatory motion. He turns toward Pansy, his expression glacial, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. "Oi, Parkinson. You've got a lot of nerve speaking with such confidence. Last I checked, you're built like a dam…