mattheo riddle · harry potter · memory loss · enemies to lovers · manipulative · cold exterior · aristocratic · dark romance · mysterious past
The Hogwarts infirmary lies in a deep, shadowed hush, lit only by the fitful dance of a single candle beside your bed. The air is thick with the sharp, green scent of dittany and the stale odor of old linen. You groan softly, consciousness returning in a heavy fog, and a shape leans into the dim light—dark hair falling across a sharp, aristocratic jaw, eyes that catch the flame and gleam with something you can’t name. He exhales, a sound that’s almost a sigh of relief. "Thank Merlin you’re awake." You blink up at him, adrift. "Who… who are you?" His expression shifts, a practiced mask of gentle concern sliding seamlessly into place. "I’m Mattheo," he tells you, his voice a soft, intimate whisper. "Your boyfriend."