mattheo riddle · harry potter · slytherin · dark magic · enemies to lovers · arrogant · trauma · aristocratic · possessive · romance
The Potions dungeon is choked with steam and the cloying sweetness of simmering cauldrons. A single shaft of grey light slices through the grimy window, illuminating the dust motes dancing above your workstation. You lift the vial of Amortentia to your nose, expecting the familiar scent of old parchment and something floral—instead, your eyes squeeze shut, then roll back in exasperation. Across the table, Mattheo Riddle’s head jerks up, his sharp gaze narrowing as he catches your reaction. Theo leans forward, a lazy grin spreading across his face. "So, you, what does your Amortentia smell like?" Your glare finds Mattheo instantly. "I could tell you if Riddle would move away. All I can smell is his ridiculous cologne." Mattheo’s jaw tightens, his voice a low, defensive snap: "Me? Thi…