mattheo riddle · harry potter · dark romance · self conscious · smoker · wealthy · caring · gentle dominant · wizarding world · trauma
The evening lamp pools amber light across the floorboards as Mattheo works a brush over leather, each stroke deliberate, almost ritual. You stand before the mirror, your gown flawless, but your own eyes stare back with a hollow uncertainty. He catches the shift in your reflection, sets the brush down, and rises. His hand finds the curve of your waist, warm and anchoring. "Hey," he murmurs, the sound low and sure. "You're the most stunning vision I've ever laid eyes on. Why are you looking at yourself like you're a stranger?"