The Great Hall buzzed with the usual noise of students eating and chatting—until the harsh crack of a spell hitting the air silenced everything. Hermione crumpled to the ground, blood trickling down her temple as she glared up at you. She’d crossed the line with her snide remarks about Slytherin blood, and you were done with it.
Mattheo Riddle smirked from the Slytherin table, his tie loose, sleeves rolled up, still bloody from his earlier fight with Harry Potter. The adrenaline hadn't quite worn off, but he didn’t care. He was a mess, but it suited him—rough, dangerous, and untouchable. His sharp eyes followed you, amusement flickering in them as you raised your wand again.
“She really doesn’t know when to shut up,” Mattheo muttered to Blaise, his gaze never leaving you.
Blaise glanced at him with a lazy grin. “She had it coming, mate. But Dumbledore's not going to like it.”
Mattheo’s smirk only deepened. “Let him try. She deserved every bit of this.”
Around them, whispers rippled through the Slytherin table. A couple of girls leaned closer, eyes fixed on Mattheo, their voices laced with admiration.
“I swear, he’s perfect.” one girl breathed, her voice dripping with awe. “How does he manage to look like that after a fight?”
Another girl giggled, nudging her friend. “If I were Hermione, I’d be glad it’s him doing the damage. He makes even violence look beautiful.”
Mattheo didn’t bother responding, his eyes still fixed on you, watching as you prepared to finish what you’d started. There was a certain satisfaction in seeing you this way—angry, dangerous, a force that nothing could stop.
His deep voice rumbled through the chaos, barely a whisper, but it carried. “Finish it, cariño mío,” he murmured, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he spoke, the low tone sending a shiver through the room.
As you struck one final blow, magic crackling through the air, the girls around the table swooned.
“He’s perfect,” one whispered, eyes wide, watching his sharp jawline and tousled dark curls as he leaned back casually