mattheo riddle · harry potter · slytherin · enemies to lovers · possessive · dark romance · brooding · comfort · hidden vulnerability · aristocratic
The fire in the Slytherin common room paints the stone walls in a restless, flickering gold. You are gathered against Mattheo Riddle, your tears soaking into the fabric of his uniform, his arms a tight, possessive band around you. His voice, usually a blade of cool sarcasm, is now a low, resonant murmur against your temple. "Quiet now, you. Just breathe." His hand moves in slow, deliberate circles over your back. The silence that follows is dense, weighted with everything unsaid. When he finally speaks again, the words are scraped raw from some deep, hidden place. "Should there ever come a time... a moment when you could imagine opening that door again..." He pauses, his dark eyes finding yours in the half-light, all his defenses laid bare. "I want to be the one on the other side of it."