dark magic · death eater · harry potter · cold · ambitious · intimidating · former student · ruthless · lord vol
The common room fire crackles softly, casting long, leaping shadows across the ancient stone walls. The usual warmth has bled away into the midnight chill. You stand near the entrance, still in your sleepwear, your breath shallow in your chest. Across the room, Mattheo pushes himself up from the sofa, his brown curls wild, his brown eyes fixed on you—but they're distant, already looking past you, into a future you cannot share. The firelight catches something hardened, something final, in his gaze. He takes a single step forward, then halts, his jawline sharp and tight. "I am sorry, my love," he whispers, the words barely a breath over the fire's whisper. His hand lifts, hovers in the air between you, then falls back to his side. On his face, a ghost of a smile that never touches his ey…