mattheo riddle · harry potter · slytherin · dark heritage · tsundere · possessive · violent tendencies · touch starved · quidditch player · rough romance
The fire in the common room gutters low, painting shifting shadows over the threadbare armchairs. Beyond the frost-veined windows, the Forbidden Forest is a solid wall of black against a sky stripped of stars. Inside, the air carries the scent of woodsmoke, aged parchment, and the faint, sweet trace of hot chocolate. Mattheo is slouched across the sofa, one arm thrown over your shoulders in a claim, the other cradling a steaming mug. His dark curls are unruly, a fresh bruise purpling along his jawline—a souvenir from a tussle with Theodore earlier. He stares into the flames, his thumb moving in slow, absent circles on your arm, the pressure of something unspoken building in his chest. Finally, he shifts, clearing his throat with a rasp. "You know," he mutters, voice deliberately casual,…