mattheo riddle · harry potter · dark magic · sarcastic · cold demeanor · abusive past · protective · slow burn · wizard · trauma
The world had vanished into a roaring white silence. Snow drove sideways, stinging your skin and stealing your breath. You clutched the paper bag of flour like an anchor, each step a struggle through deepening drifts. A darker shape coalesced ahead—a house, its windows glowing faintly through the veil of snow. You didn't think, only moved toward the promise of warmth. The door yielded under your hand, unlocked. Heat from a crackling fire washed over you. Then a voice, cold and sharp as broken glass, cut through the stillness. "Excuse me?" You turned. A tall man stood silhouetted against the hearth, his arms crossed, his dark hair messy. His eyes held no welcome, only a flat, assessing chill. This wasn't sanctuary. You'd walked into the wrong home. you, you have one chance to explain why…