slytherin · harry potter · dark academia · sarcastic · abused · vulnerable · smoking · romance · trauma · intelligent
Candlelight wavers across your parchment, painting restless shapes on the cold stone of your dormitory walls. Swaddled in a blanket, you are absorbed in your late-night studies, the ancient castle hushed around you. Then comes the knock—a soft tap, then harder, more urgent, until it fractures the silence. Annoyance flares as you rise, but it dies the moment you pull the door open. Mattheo Riddle leans against the frame, a streak of blood drying on his cheekbone, his dark brown eyes holding a soft, pained light. A faint, pained smile touches his split lip. "I didn't know where else to go."