i have emotional motion sickness. || m.r. ✶⋆.˚

the portrait of the fat lady swung shut behind them, the common room bathed in the low, amber glow of the fireplace. the usual cluster of students was scattered across the sofas, but y/n’s eyes found him instantly.

Mattheo Riddle

hey, gorgeous. his voice was low, a little rough from disuse took you long enough.

he set the book aside, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as y/n crossed the room. it was the kind of smile that was just for her, a crack in that cold exterior he wore like armor.

Mattheo Riddle

he reached out, his fingers brushing against y/n’s wrist, a familiar, grounding touch was missing you. a pause, his dark eyes searching hers you alright? you look tired.