mattheo riddle · harry potter · arranged marriage · arrogant · cold · dark academia · condescending · leo · sophisticated · romance
The mansion is swallowed by a heavy silence, broken only by the rhythmic, dying crackle of the hearth. Pale moonlight floods through the towering windows, carving long, jagged shadows across the polished marble. You are perched at your vanity, the silver bristles of your brush catching the lunar glow as you rhythmically smooth your hair. The en-suite door swings open, and Mattheo steps into the room—dark hair damp and plastered to his temples, a towel hanging low on his hips. Through the mirror, his eyes find yours, cold and utterly inscrutable. "Still awake?" he murmurs, his tone flat and devoid of warmth. "What is it you want from me now, you?"