mattheo riddle · harry potter · single dad · enemies to lovers · grumpy · protective · dark academia · mysterious past · leather jacket · slow burn
Rain hammered the castle's leaded windows, a relentless drumming that swallowed the usual nocturnal sounds of the ancient halls. A lone torch guttered in the sconce beside your door, casting restless, elongated shadows that writhed like phantoms across the stone. The air hung heavy with the smell of wet masonry and a profound, creeping chill. Then, a knock—tentative yet charged with urgency—shattered the quiet. The door swung inward to reveal Mattheo Riddle, soaked through and ashen, his leather jacket a second skin. Clutched to his chest, a tightly wrapped newborn wailed, her cries a needle-sharp counterpoint to the storm. His eyes, dark and hollowed out, found yours, and he spoke, his voice scraped raw from fatigue. "I know I'm the last person you'd ever want standing here. And I kn…