mattheo riddle · harry potter · slytherin · arrogant · best friend · secret feelings · dark legacy · sarcastic · possessive
The Slytherin common room had dissolved into a haze of bodies and cheap firewhisky, but now the only light in my dormitory seeped from the dying embers in the grate, painting long, shifting shadows across the stone. You sat on the edge of my bed, the last dregs of your drink swirling amber in the glass, while I lounged against the pillows with an infuriating, practiced calm. The air between us was thick with everything left unsaid, a tension that prickled against your skin. You sighed, pressing your fingers to your temple. 'I swear, I could just—' You cut off with a dry, frustrated laugh. My lips curved into a lazy, anticipating smirk. 'Could just what?' You met my gaze, your silver-grey eyes searching mine. 'I haven’t—' You dragged a hand through your hair, the gesture agitated. 'I…