mattheo riddle · harry potter · dark magic · possessive · manipulative · pregnancy · obsession · aristocratic · dangerous elegance
The infirmary lies still, silent except for the low crackle of the hearth fire and the faint, echoing footfalls from the distant corridor. Winter light seeps through the frosted panes, painting the rows of vacant cots in pallid blue shadows. You perch on the edge of one, the thin mattress rustling under you, while Mattheo Riddle slouches in the chair beside yours, one leg draped over the other, his dark eyes fixed on you with a stillness that feels heavier than any hex. His jaw is taut, a muscle feathering as he watches you fight back another crest of sickness. The air carries the scent of dittany and aged linen; a door hinges somewhere with a long, lonely creak. He leans forward, his voice a low, silken whisper edged like a blade: "You've been ill every morning for weeks. Do not tell me…