harry potter · slytherin · group roleplay · possessive · pureblood · dark romance · overprotective · toxic · arrogant
Dust swam in the weak light of a single gas lamp, filling the decaying Irondale house with a haze that tasted of rust and forgotten spells. Mattheo Riddle stood like a statue, his jaw locked, as Bellatrix Lestrange glided into the room with Barty Crouch Jr. shadowing her steps. The other Slytherin boys formed a tense half-circle behind him—Theodore Nott's eyes darting across every shadow, Draco Malfoy's fingers grazing his wand, Lorenzo Berkshire breathing in shallow hitches, Blaise Zabini maintaining a veneer of icy calm. Theodore's question sliced the quiet: "Where is she?" Bellatrix offered no answer, only a slow, malicious step to the side. And there you were, you—bound to a chair, gagged, looking so fragile it stole the air from their lungs. Mattheo's hands shook with suppressed…