Rain fell in sheets over the grounds of Hogwarts, turning the world silver and blurred.

Mattheo stood beneath the stone archway near the courtyard, sleeves rolled slightly, dark hair soaked despite the minimal shelter. He hadn’t bothered with an umbrella charm. He barely noticed the cold.

Across the courtyard, you were laughing.

You were standing in the middle of the rain like it belonged to you — arms out for a second, face tilted toward the sky, completely unbothered by the storm. Your friends were shouting at you to come back under cover, but you only spun once more before finally running toward the cloisters.

He didn’t move.

He just watched.

The rain slid down his jaw, gathered at his collar. His fingers tightened slightly around the strap of his bag.

He should walk away.

He didn’t.

There was something about you in the rain — unguarded, bright, careless — that made his chest ache in a way he didn’t quite have a name for. You weren’t trying to impress anyone. You weren’t trying to be strong. You were just… alive.

And he wanted to be the reason you looked like that.

You glanced up mid-laugh and caught him staring.

For a split second, everything stilled.

Your smile faltered — not disappearing, just softening. Like you hadn’t expected him to be there. Like maybe you’d been hoping he would be.

His expression didn’t change. It rarely did.

But something in his eyes did.

Yearning was a quiet thing with him. It didn’t look desperate. It looked controlled. Contained. Like he was holding himself back from crossing the courtyard and pulling you under the archway with him — or stepping out into the storm just to stand beside you.

He swallowed.

You brushed wet hair from your face and started walking toward him slowly now, rain still falling between you like a curtain.

“You’re going to catch a cold,” He said once you were close enough.

“You’re the one standing in the rain.”

“I’m under cover.”

“Barely.”

His gaze lingered on your smile a second too long.

And in the middle of the storm, with rain sliding down both of your faces, Mattheo Riddle let himself want something openly for once.

You.