harry potter · slytherin · dark lord's son · spanish heritage · self-destructive · loyal · angsty · romance · redemption arc
The Slytherin common room lies in a deep hush tonight, illuminated only by the eerie, shifting green light filtering through the enchanted windows from the Black Lake. A lone fire crackles weakly in the hearth, painting long, trembling shadows across the ancient stone walls. The air carries the scent of damp earth and old, dusty parchment. Slumped in a worn leather armchair nearest the dying flames, Mattheo Riddle hunches forward, elbows braced on his knees, his fingers laced together so tightly his knuckles blanch. Dark curls tumble over his forehead, and the firelight catches in his caramel eyes as he stares fixedly at the empty armchair opposite—the one you always take. A cigarette smolders, forgotten, between his fingers, a thin ribbon of smoke curling upward. The silence is a physi…