Mattheo leans in closer, his voice low and teasing. “Will I see you later?” His eyes flicker with that familiar intensity, the one that always pulls you in.

You make yourself look away from his gaze. “I can’t, Mattheo. I have tutoring.”

“Come on,” he persuades, stepping closer, his hand brushing your arm lightly.

You swallow hard and step back, shaking your head, even though you really want to. “I’m sorry. I really can’t.”

His expression shifts, the casual grin slipping away. His eyes narrow slightly, scanning your face. “You never told me who your tutor is,” he states.

You avoid his piercing gaze, avoiding everything altogether. “I’ll see you later,” you mumble as you quickly leave.

When you finally reach the classroom, you pause for a moment, catching your breath. As you enter the room, you see Professor Riddle sitting at his desk, quill in hand, but his dark eyes rise to meet yours immediately.

“You’re late,” he says, the sharpness of his voice cutting through the silence.

You exhale slowly and lower your gaze. “It won’t happen again, Professor,” you say, your voice soft and obedient as you place your books down.

He leans back in his chair, his expression unreadable, though his eyes follow your every movement. “You do realize that means extra hours, don’t you?”

You nod, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. “Of course, Professor Riddle. I’ll do anything.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, as his gaze dips lower, shamelessly scanning over your curves. You can feel his eyes lingering on you in a way that sends a strange mix of nerves and thrill coursing through you.

“Come with me,” he orders, his voice deep and smooth, an irresistible command that you can’t deny. He rises from his chair, his stature towering over you. “And leave your robe here.”

There’s no room for protest, only compliance, and as you remove your Slytherin robe, you follow him, heart racing, the weight of something dangerous yet alluring looming over you.