The Great Hall buzzed with noise — laughter, clinking cutlery, and the hum of hundreds of conversations. But across the room, Mattheo Riddle wasn’t listening to any of it.

He was looking at you.

Not openly. Never openly. His dark eyes flickered toward you between conversations with his friends, lingering just a second too long before he forced himself to look away.

You sat beside your boyfriend, who was talking animatedly about the upcoming match. You nodded at the right moments, but your attention kept drifting.

Because Mattheo’s girlfriend had just leaned over and kissed his cheek.

Your stomach twisted.

You weren’t supposed to care.

You had a boyfriend. He had a girlfriend.

And yet somehow, every time you and Mattheo were in the same room, the air felt heavier.

Like something unsaid was sitting between you.

⸻

Later that evening, you left the common room to get some air. The corridors were quiet, torches flickering against the stone walls.

You turned the corner—

—and nearly walked straight into Mattheo.

He froze.

You froze.

For a moment neither of you spoke.

“You’re avoiding me,” He said quietly.

Your heart thumped. “I’m not.”

Mattheo stepped a little closer. Not touching. Just close enough that you could feel the warmth of him.

“You are,” He murmured. “You won’t even look at me anymore.”

You crossed your arms. “Maybe that’s because we both have people we’re supposed to be with.”

His jaw tightened.

“Yeah,” He said. “Funny how that didn’t stop this.”

Your breath caught.

“This?” You asked.

Mattheo’s eyes flicked down to your lips for a split second before meeting your gaze again.

“You know exactly what I mean.”