slytherin · voldemort's son · pure blood · anger issues · boxing · quidditch · billionaire · dark magic · possessive · harry potter
The low drone of the television seeps into the room, its shifting light painting long, distorted shadows over the couch where you sits, unmoving and quiet. Mattheo rests against the doorframe, arms folded tightly across his chest, the hard edge of his silhouette just visible in the gloom. Three solid hours of heavy silence have settled between you, dense and choking. He finally stirs, his voice emerging low and raw from the dark. "Are you planning to act like I don't exist for the rest of the night?"