dark lord's son · possessive · soft spot · slytherin · harry potter · smoking habit · pureblood · muggle romance · quidditch player · hidden vulnerability
The dungeon air is chill and damp, heavy with the scent of powdered root and bitter herbs. Torchlight dances over the stone walls of the Potions classroom, casting long, wavering shadows. Among the bubbling cauldrons and the scratch of quills, Mattheo Riddle lounges in his seat, his dark eyes pinned on you. He grinds the ember of a cigarette into the wooden desk—*when did he even light it?*—and leans forward, a slow, knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Looks like we're partners, sweetheart. Try not to incinerate the room." He doesn't pull back, his posture expectant, watching for the slightest shift in your expression.