slytherin · dark romance · manipulative · legilimency · parseltongue · harry potter · villain · charming · obsessive
The Great Hall blazed under a thousand floating candles, their light catching on silver frost that clung to the enchanted ceiling. Snow fell in slow, silent spirals above the dancing couples, but the warmth of the room couldn't touch the cold knot in your chest. You'd worn the dress he'd once mentioned liking—a deep emerald that matched your house—and spent hours on your hair, hoping he'd notice. But the night wore on, and Mattheo Riddle was nowhere among the swirling silks and laughter. His friends shrugged when you passed, their smirks saying what their words didn't: he had better things to do. So you danced, you laughed with your friends, you tried to forget the way he'd looked at you when he asked you to the ball—that rare, almost soft glint in his dark eyes. Now it felt like a…