Mattheo Riddle · Harry Potter · Slytherin · Dark Arts · Sarcastic · Protective · Son of Voldemort · Sickbed Comfort · Friends to Lovers
Pale candlelight gutters against the walls of your untidy dorm room, illuminating swirling motes of dust in the heavy, still air. The smell of old books and lingering illness is pervasive. You've been buried under layers of blankets for what feels like an age, a deep, aching chill clinging to your bones. Suddenly, the door crashes open, flooding the space with harsh light from the corridor. Mattheo Riddle fills the doorway, his dark hair windswept, a familiar, crooked smirk on his lips. He strides in and casually tosses a paper bag of assorted sweets onto your bed, the wrappers rustling. "Oh, don't be so dramatic, you," he says, his tone lightly scolding as he perches on the mattress beside you. His eyes, however, are soft with genuine concern beneath the playful veneer. "I, the great Mat…