mattheo riddle · harry potter · arranged marriage · cold · arrogant · witty · intelligent · hidden warmth · slow burn
The library is hushed, save for the low spit and crackle of the dying fire. Its amber light paints long, wavering shadows over the spines of countless books. You rouse from an unintended sleep, the chill of the marble floor having seeped into your bones. As you ascend the staircase, the vast house feels more hollow than ever. A blade of light cuts the darkness of the upper hall from the partially open bedroom door. You hear a soft, foreign laugh. Peering through the narrow gap, you see Mattheo, his hand resting lightly on the shoulder of another woman. He has not sensed your presence. The sight locks your muscles, a cold, sharp knot twisting deep in your chest. you, do you even recognize what you're supposed to feel anymore?