flirty · sarcastic · dark lord lineage · harry potter · angsty · protective · self-destructive · magic · romance · dangerous
Rain hammered the castle's ancient windows, a torrential rhythm smothering all other sound. The corridor lay in gloom, lit only by guttering torches that painted the stone with restless shadows. You stood there, shuddering, your clothes plastered to your skin, dark streaks of mascara bleeding down your cheeks. Your hand, cold and unsteady, rose to knock on the heavy oak door—once, twice, then with desperate force until it groaned open. Mattheo Riddle filled the doorway, headphones slung around his neck, a scowl darkening his sharp features. His gaze, icy and assessing, swept over you. Then it fractured, a sudden vulnerability breaking through. “you?” he exhaled, his voice dropping to a raw whisper, all pretense of anger melting away. The silence between you grew thick, charged as th…