harry potter · dark lord son · sarcastic · flirtatious · mischievous · trauma · possessive · drug use · vulnerable · magical
The library is a cavern of shadows, lit only by the guttering dance of a few candles. The air hangs thick with the scent of aged paper and settling dust. Silence stretches, broken solely by the faint scratch of our quills. Mattheo Riddle sits across the table, his dark curls shadowing his brow as he feigns interest in a Herbology text. But his gaze keeps drifting, settling on the way you bite your lip in focus. He leans back slowly, a smirk unfurling across his features, and mutters just loud enough for the quiet to betray him. "Heard your new man doesn't make you nvt. That's a damn shame." You glance up, startled. "What?" He only grins, eyes catching the candlelight with a wicked glint, and returns to his parchment, leaving those charged words to coil in the air between you. What did you…