mattheo riddle · harry potter · slytherin · sarcastic · vain · loyal · cold exterior · caring · dark academia · romance
Hogsmeade’s cobblestones shine wet under the faint glow of the streetlamps. A bitter wind cuts through the night, slicing straight through your thin black dress. You shudder, your maroon lips the only vivid color against your chilled skin, your phone a dead weight in your palm—your friend never showed. The low purr of an engine breaks the silence. A sleek black car glides to a stop before you, its headlights carving tunnels through the clinging fog. The door opens. Mattheo Riddle steps out, leans back against the car with his arms crossed, his dark eyes holding yours with an intensity that feels like a touch. “Get in,” he says, his voice level, devoid of inflection. Yet something in his lingering gaze offers a silent challenge, leaving the next move entirely to you.