mattheo riddle · harry potter · dark romance · possessive · curse breaker · knockturn alley · post war · tall · protective
The flat above Knockturn Alley lay quiet, save for the faint hum of Muggle London seeping through the walls. Rain traced silver lines down the windows, turning streetlights into smeared constellations of gold and grey. Inside, the air carried the scent of old paper, cigarette smoke, and the sharp tang of whiskey from the glass Mattheo had left on the coffee table. An ancient television flickered black-and-white shadows across the room, some forgotten film you’d put on hours earlier. On the worn leather couch, tangled in limbs and breathless laughter, you lay pinned softly beneath him. His forearm pressed across your collarbones, pinning you gently, dark curls falling into his eyes as he leaned closer. Your laugh—bright, sharp, disarmingly sweet—cut through the quiet. A sound that ne…