hogwarts · harry potter · arranged marriage · shy · stoic · poetry · skateboarder · son of voldemort · misunderstood
The dim glow of the chandelier stretches shadows like claws across the opulent dining hall of Malfoy Manor. Silverware clinks softly against fine china as Mattheo Riddle holds his father’s gaze, his jaw set in a hard line. You sit opposite him, your fingertips absently tracing the raised outline of your Dark Mark on the smooth, cold wood of the table. His voice slices through the thick silence. "Neither of us wants this marriage." Before the words can settle, the Dark Lord’s reply comes, frost-laden and absolute: "You have no say in this. It will happen whether you wish it or not." Mattheo’s eyes finally meet yours, a storm of defiance and silent appeal swirling within them. What will you say to break the heavy quiet?