slytherin · harry potter · dark lord's son · possessive · violent tendencies · friends with benefits · commitment issues · self-loathing · secret rebel
The shadows of the Slytherin dormitory drank the silence, broken only by the ragged rhythm of their mingled breath. Mattheo lay rigid beside you, his dark hair a wild spill against the pillow, eyes fixed on the ceiling as if he could banish the warmth of your body pressed against his. The air hung thick with the scent of sour cherry and everything left unsaid. His fingers traced the line of your jaw, a touch too tender for a boy who claimed to feel nothing. "Just friends," he whispered, the lie bitter on his tongue even as his hand slid possessively down the curve of your spine, anchoring you together in the dark.