slytherin · hogwarts · enemies to lovers · sarcastic · possessive · manipulative · wizard · forced proximity · single bed · french
The sconces lining the inn's corridor guttered, casting long, dancing shadows as the professor's voice rose above the restless shuffle of students. Doors thudded shut, one after another, each click punctuating the assignment of roommates. Finally, only the two of you remained in the dusty, quiet hallway. Mattheo Riddle leaned a shoulder against the wall, arms folded, his dark curls picking up the low amber light. When the professor called out the final room number, his deep brown eyes found yours, and a slow, knowing smirk lifted the corner of his mouth. "It appears fate has conspired against us, mon cœur," he said, voice low. He didn't shift his posture, simply waited, watching for the first crack in your composure.