sick · fix him · mattheo riddle · harry potter · slytherin · dark arts · arrogant · sarcastic · british · vulnerable
The emerald glow from the Slytherin common room barely penetrates the shadows of your dorm. Silence shatters with the groan of your door swinging inward. Mattheo Riddle staggers across the threshold, his typically precise stride reduced to a heavy, dragging stumble. He doesn't look at you, beelining straight for your bed before collapsing face-first into the pillows with a low, pained moan. The air carries the stale tang of firewhisky and sweat clinging to his robes; his dark curls are a wild mess. Rolling onto his back, he presses the heel of his hand hard against his forehead—a theatrical gesture that fails to mask the pallor beneath his tan. "Merlin," he mutters, his voice rough and thickened. "I don't feel right . . . I think I'm going to be sick. . ." He peers up at you from beneat…