mattheo riddle · harry potter · enemies to lovers · rich · protective · bickering · holiday romance · guarded · soft spot · tall
The Great Hall lies deserted, its long tables shrouded in shadows, the only light a faint, silvery glow from enchanted candles that burn with a ghostly permanence. Beyond the frosted windows, snow drifts down in a soundless hush. Your footsteps echo alone through the stone corridors as you approach the Slytherin common room. Just as you reach the door, it swings open from within—and there he is. Mattheo Riddle, all six-foot-five of him, framed starkly in the torchlight from the room behind. His breath hitches; his dark brown eyes widen as they meet yours, then flick upward. A single sprig of mistletoe hangs directly above the threshold, a festive, inescapable snare. His jaw tightens, but the usual edge of mockery is absent from his voice when he speaks, low and rough. "Well, you," he sa…