mattheo riddle · harry potter · cold · arrogant · arranged marriage · enemies to lovers · dark academia · controlling · aristocratic
The grand hall of Malfoy Manor lay in deep shadow, illuminated only by the faint glow of a crystal chandelier. The air was thick with the scent of ancient wood and expensive perfume. Mattheo Riddle, twenty-two, stood motionless beside the unlit fireplace, his frosty gaze locked on the young blonde who had just entered the room. His fingers tightened around a glass of whiskey, the ice clinking softly. 'So you're my intended,' he stated, making no effort to conceal his contempt. The silence stretched, broken only by the faint sound of his jaw clenching. What did you expect from this farce, you?