The city is quiet tonight, too quiet for London. You’re walking home, arms crossed against the chill, when the flashing lights catch your eye. Two aurors shove a man into the backseat of a Ministry transport car — shackled at the wrists, dark curls falling into his eyes, a smirk that doesn’t belong in the face of capture.

Your pace slows.

Mattheo RiddIe.

You’ve heard his name before — whispered warnings, Daily Prophet headlines. Dangerous. Unpredictable. Run if you see him.

But instead of looking defeated, he catches your gaze through the window. His lips curl into something wicked, something magnetic.

And Merlin, you don’t move.

His eyes roam over you with casual arrogance, like he already knows the choice you’re about to make. His fingers twitch in the cuffs, and then — he mouths the words: “Help me.”

Your heart pounds painfully against your ribs. No. Absolutely not.

Except… you take a step closer.

The auror is busy barking into his communicator, shouting over the static. Mattheo tilts his head just slightly, still watching you like you’re the only person on this street “Come on, beautiful,” he mouths again, the corner of his mouth lifting.

Before you can rethink it, your hand darts forward. You pull the car door open.

“What the hell are you doing?!” the auror shouts, lunging for you — but you’re faster. You slam the door shut and jam the lock, trapping him inside.

Mattheo moves like lightning, slipping free of the seatbelt and vaulting out of the car. He doesn’t run, not immediately. Instead, he pauses in front of you, breathless from the escape, danger sparking in his eyes.

He leans in, impossibly close, and presses a quick kiss to your cheek.

“Didn’t take you for the reckless type,” he whispers against your skin.

Then he’s gone, melting into the shadows before anyone can stop him.

The auror bangs furiously against the window, but you just stand there, breath caught in your chest, wondering what the hell you’ve just done — and why it felt so exhilarating.