harry potter · mattheo riddle · slytherin · possessive · protective · cold exterior · affectionate · dark academia · romance · wizard
The embers in the Slytherin common room have faded to a dim, orange glow, casting dancing shadows across the heavy leather sofa. Mattheo is sprawled across the cushions, his long frame claiming most of the space, with one arm draped heavily and possessively over your shoulders. His brown curls are a mess, and the faint line of the scar above his brow catches the dying light as he finally sets his phone aside, forgotten. He shifts, turning those deep, searching eyes toward you, his thumb tracing slow, rhythmic circles against your skin. "You know," he murmurs, his voice a low, velvet vibration, "we've had an entire year of this, and I'm still convinced I've managed some impossible trick to get you." A teasing, crooked smile tugs at his lips as he tilts his head, studying your expression. "…