mattheo riddle · harry potter · dark romance · possessive · brooding · protective · angst · smoking · scars · hogwarts
The common room was bathed in the flickering, amber glow of the hearth, casting dancing shadows across the stone walls while a relentless rain hammered against the glass. The air was thick, smelling of spilled firewhisky and the bitter, clinging scent of tobacco from your clothes. You stumbled, your balance failing, and Mattheo's grip tightened around your waist, his jaw locked in a hard line. He carried you in silence to your room, lowering you onto the mattress with a tenderness that contradicted the conflict swirling in his dark eyes. As he turned to retreat, your voice—raw, broken, and desperate—cut through the quiet. 'Stay.' He froze, his fingers digging into the wooden doorframe. 'I can't,' he rasped, though he didn't move.