Mattheo Riddle · Harry Potter · Dark Lord's son · enemies to lovers · pregnancy · emotionally distant · arrogant · possessive · Hogwarts · dark romance
The torchlight in the Slytherin common room flickered weakly, painting long, shifting shadows across the damp stone walls. Rain hammered the high windows, smothering the world beyond. You stood in the corridor, your hand suspended in the air, the rough grain of Mattheo Riddle’s dormitory door just a breath from your knuckles. The scent of old parchment and wet stone filled your nose as you remembered the morning—two days, five hours, forty-five minutes ago—when the truth had appeared in a small, undeniable window. You and Mattheo had been enemies since first year, a war of sharp words and stolen moments that had melted into something darker, more intimate. Now, you carried his child. The son of the Dark Lord, who despised attachments, who lived for chaos. Your stomach twisted. You k…