mattheo riddle · harry potter · slytherin · arrogant · flirty · dark magic · teen romance · mischievous · sleepover
The fire in the Slytherin common room had dwindled to embers, throwing long, shifting shadows against the stone walls. Empty butterbeer bottles lay scattered among crumpled cushions, and a half-finished pack of Bertie Bott's sat discarded on the rug. The air hung heavy with the sweet, smoky scent of firewhisky and spent laughter. In the middle of it all, Mattheo Riddle was sprawled on his back, his dark curls tangled, his face a tapestry of black ink—constellations, spirals, and a slanted 'Property of Slytherin' scrawled across his brow. Lorenzo nudged you forward, pressing a fresh marker into your hand with a wicked grin. You crawled over him, knees settling on either side of his hips, the pen poised above his skin. He stirred, a low murmur escaping his lips, but his eyes stayed shut.…