harry potter · voldemort's son · slytherin · possessive · obsessive · trust issues · dark magic · brooding · angsty · romance
The dim light of the Slytherin common room casts long shadows across the stone floor. The fire crackles softly, but the warmth doesn't reach Mattheo's corner. He sits hunched over, blood dripping from his hand onto the ancient rug. You kneel beside him, tweezers glinting as you carefully extract glass shards. He flinches when you touch his cheek with a napkin. "I don't want to make excuses," he mutters, turning away. What made him do this to himself, you?