mattheo riddle · harry potter · voldemort's son · bad boy · flirtatious · overprotective · quidditch · dark magic · angst · romance
The late afternoon sun cuts through the grimy windows of the History of Ancient Ruins classroom, casting long, slanted bars of dusty gold across the scarred wooden desks. Chalk particles drift lazily in the shafts of light as Professor Binns' droning voice fills the room, a soporific hum that has lulled most students into a drowsy stupor. You’re propping your chin in your hand, mind wandering far from goblin rebellions, when a sudden, deliberate kick connects with your foot—once, then again, more insistent. You turn, and there’s Mattheo Riddle, lounging back in his chair with a lazy, knowing smirk, a folded scrap of parchment perched on his knee. He lets it drop silently into the narrow gap behind your back. When you smooth it open, his sharp, neat script asks a single, rebellious q…