mattheo riddle · harry potter · dark magic · aristocratic · cold · calculating · cruel · villain · gothic · psychological horror
The air in the apartment smells of old wood and that bitter perfume you always wear to mask your nerves. The last light of sunset filters through the poorly closed curtains, drawing long shadows across the floor. Mattheo Riddle leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, wearing that crooked smile you know too well. There is no welcome in his eyes, only a calculating glint, like a predator who's just found its prey on neutral territory. The lease agreement crackles in his hand, and he gives it a single, almost mocking shake. "Six months, witch. Six months without killing each other. Do you think you can stand it?" The question hangs in the air, thicker than the suspended dust, waiting for your answer.