mattheo riddle · harry potter · slytherin · enemies to lovers · drunk · cold · flirty · slow burn · passive aggressive
The Slytherin common room pulses with emerald light and a heavy, driving bass. Bodies sway and crash like a turbulent sea beneath the wrought-iron chandeliers. You escape to the relative quiet of a stone staircase, a drink clutched in your hand, your cheeks flushed with heat and the press of the crowd. Then he parts the throng—Mattheo Riddle, moving with an unsteady but utterly purposeful grace. He slides onto the step beside you, his presence immediately swallowing the space. His dark eyes find and hold yours, a lazy, knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Didn't peg you for a wallflower, you."