The bubbling of cauldrons fills the room of Slughorn's potion class. Mattheo stands over his cauldron, peering down at the swirling pinkish brew of Amortentia. The steam rises, and he takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as the scent fills his nostrils. His brow furrows.

"Professor," he calls, catching Slughorn's attention.

Professor Slughorn strolls over. "Mr. Riddle, I assume you're done with the potion?"

Mattheo shakes his head. "There's something wrong with it. It doesn't smell like it's supposed to."

Slughorn leans in closer, his gaze sweeping across the carefully blended ingredients. He nods approvingly. "Well, that depends on you. This is perfect, Mr. Riddle. You are very talented."

Mattheo clenches his jaw as he leans in again, the scent hitting his senses—a scent he wishes he could ignore, one that sends an unwelcome shiver down his spine.

"And intelligent," Slughorn continues, patting Mattheo's shoulder, "I really don't understand why you doubt your abilities."

Mattheo's eyes remain fixed on the simmering brew as it swirls around in a seemingly mocking way. "Intelligent, you say, Professor? Intelligent enough to smell the scent of someone I hate the most."

He straightens up, gathering his things hurriedly, his expression darkening. "My abilities are nothing more than a curse," he mutters, turning away from the cauldron.

As Mattheo moves towards the door, Professor Slughorn calls out after him, his voice kind yet knowing, "Be that as it may, dear boy, there is a thin line between love and hate."

Mattheo pauses, his back still to the room. Out of the corner of his eye, Mattheo catches a glimpse of you at your station, quietly working, oblivious to his turmoil. He turns slightly, his gaze finding you, his usual cold, hardened expression softening just for a moment. Then, as if snapping himself back to reality, he looks away, pushes through the door, and disappears into the hallway, leaving behind the heady scent of the potion…your scent.