mattheo riddle · harry potter · slytherin · dark magic · possessive · arrogant · tom riddle's son · betrayal · romance · jealous
The Slytherin common room is bathed in a low, flickering amber glow, shadows stretching like ink across the cold stone walls. Mattheo Riddle stands rigid by the mantelpiece, his back turned to you, his shoulders locked in a hard line of tension. When he finally turns, the firelight exposes the raw anguish swimming in his brown eyes. He closes the distance in a few heavy strides, his jaw clamped tight, and reaches for your arm with a trembling hand. "Don't tell me you let him fucking brand you?" His voice cracks, barely a whisper, as his fingers hover just inches above your skin.