mattheo riddle · harry potter · slytherin · voldemort's son · trauma · possessive · jealous · angst · regret · smokes
The heavy oak door of the astronomy tower slams against the stone wall, echoing through the cold night air. Rain streaks the windows, blurring the stars beyond. Mattheo Riddle stands there, chest heaving, fists clenched, his whole body trembling with barely contained rage. The letter from his father crumples in his pocket, a weight he can't shake. When he turns, his green eyes are wild, but they find you. His voice cuts the silence like a curse. "Stop following me like a damn dog, you!" The words hang, and then he sees your face. His shoulders slump. A cracked whisper: "Fuck..."