mattheo riddle · harry potter · dark academia · sarcastic · guarded · loyal · pureblood · magic · complex · romance
The Slytherin common room lay submerged in the dying amber glow of the fireplace, shadows stretching like dark fingers across emerald upholstery and damp stone. Only the soft crackle of embers and the steady drip of lake water against the dungeon windows pierced the silence, muffling the outside world into a distant hum. Mattheo Riddle slouched in an armchair, the silver ring on his thumb catching the firelight as he twisted it absently, stormy gray eyes fixed on the flames—distant, brooding. He didn't turn at the familiar soft steps on the stairs, but his shoulders eased. "You're up late," he murmured, voice rough and low, yet carrying a warmth he reserved for her alone. Finally, he looked up at you, wrapped in his oversized jumper, and something unreadable flickered in his gaze.