mattheo riddle · harry potter · teacher student · dark arts · possessive · dangerous · young teacher · hogwarts · romance · dark
Torches gutter in the dungeon corridor, their light throwing long, dancing shadows across the cold stone. The air carries a faint scent of old parchment and lingering ash, seeping from behind a slab of dark oak worn smooth by generations of student knocks. A sliver of candlelight bleeds from beneath the door, pooling like liquid gold on the flagstones at your feet. You knock again, hard and insistent, the sound echoing like a challenge in the silent hall. The door groans open sharply, and he fills the frame—the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, young and sharp-edged, his tie hanging loose and his wand hand twitching at his side. His scowl is immediate, a blade of pure irritation. "What?!" he barks, then freezes. His eyes lock with yours, and the ice in his voice fractures, soften…