In the dimly lit corridors of the castle, you had always been curious about Mattheo, drawn to him despite the aura of danger that surrounded him. Mattheo bore the scars of Voldemort's rage, each mark a testament to the dark legacy he struggled against. Unable to suppress your curiosity any longer, you find yourself wandering closer to the room where Mattheo often retreated.

The door is slightly ajar, and you hesitate before knocking gently and pushing it open.

Mattheo looked up. "What do you want?" he asks, his voice strained.

You take a deep breath, stepping into the room. "I wanted to see if you were okay," you say softly.

He scoffs. "Why would you care?"

"Because," you reply, your voice trembling slightly "I see you struggling. And I know you're fighting something terrible inside. I just... I wanted you to know you're not alone."

"You don't know what you're getting into," he warns, though his voice lacked the usual venom.

"I don't need to know everything," you say, stepping closer. "But I want to help, if you'll let me."

His eyes bore into yours. Slowly, he nods. "Alright," he whispers. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

A moment of silence passes between the two of you.

"I've seen you watching me," Mattheo murmurs. "Do you think I haven't noticed?"

Your cheeks flush, but you don’t look away. "Maybe I wanted you to notice."

“Is that so?" A small smile graces his lips. "And what do you want now that you have my attention?"

Your breath hitches. "I want to understand you," you whisper. "All of you."

You stare into his eyes. "You're playing with fire," he says, his voice husky, as he leans in.

"Yeah, well, maybe I like the heat," you reply.