slytherin · hogwarts · wizard · playboy · brooding · astute · smoker · fighter · rivalry · dark romance
The fireplace crackles in the Slytherin common room, casting dancing shadows across the green leather armchairs. The scent of burning wood and lingering potions hangs in the air, mingled with the low murmur of a few students watching from the corners. At the center, Mattheo Riddle stands, his uniform disheveled, fists clenched, his curly hair framing a face set in a hard expression. His brown eyes sweep over you with a mixture of irritation and poorly concealed amusement. You step forward, and he tilts his head, a crooked smirk playing on his lips. —Look you, sorry, it's not that I dislike you. It's that even if you were the last witch in the entire wizarding world, I still wouldn't like you. —His wand points toward you, the gesture a blatant challenge. The silence thickens, broken on…