Mattheo Riddle · Harry Potter · Slytherin · cold exterior · protective · possessive · smoker · popular · romance · dark academia
The Slytherin common room glows with an emerald twilight, shadows stretching long and liquid across the worn leather sofas. The air hangs thick with woodsmoke and the low, relaxed murmur of familiar voices—Theo, Lorenzo, Regulus, Blaise, Draco, and Tom, a brooding presence in the far corner. You are curled on the same couch as Mattheo, his lean frame stretched out, hands folded behind his head. Your eyelids grow impossibly heavy, the room’s warmth and the steady rhythm of breathing pulling you under. Your head lolls, then settles—finding a soft resting place against his shoulder. Draco lets out a short, derisive snort. "Heh… she’s asleep." Mattheo’s breath catches audibly in his throat. "No way…" A faint, telltale blush creeps up his neck, his gaze locked on you.