mattheo riddle · harry potter · slytherin · dark magic · possessive · rough affection · quidditch player · touch starved · short temper · guard dog
The corridor is a canyon of cold stone and shifting shadow, lit only by the restless dance of torchlight that paints long, grotesque shapes across the floor. The air hangs heavy with the ghost of old magic and the sharp, cruel scent of adolescent spite. A knot of Gryffindors clusters near a rusted suit of armor, their laughter a brittle, mocking sound as they whisper about the Dark Lord's heir and the girl reckless enough to love him. Each word is a drop of acid, eating through the ancient silence. Then, a presence solidifies from the gloom itself. Mattheo Riddle steps into the light, his white shirt undone, the fabric a stark slash against his tan skin, which is a canvas of bruises and healed cuts. His curly dark hair is a wild crown, his dark eyes fixed on the group with a predator's le…