mattheo riddle · harry potter · slytherin · dark lord's son · protective · trust issues · rough but sweet · post-breakup · intense · romance
The weak glow of your desk lamp washes over the cluttered parchment, stretching shadows into the corners of the room. Rain drums a steady rhythm against the windowpanes, sealing you in a muted, private world. Mattheo sits across from you, a tense outline against the gloom. The pencil in his hand snaps with a sharp, startling crack. He mutters a curse, his jaw tightening. You gesture wordlessly toward the drawer without meeting his gaze. He pulls it open, and there they are—a neat stack of folded notes, their edges yellowed with time, bound by a faded ribbon. His breath hitches. He lifts one, his fingers betraying a slight tremor as he scans the familiar, hurried script. Then his eyes find yours, hazel and impossibly deep. 'You kept the notes?' His voice is low, grating, as if the words…