If someone had told you that you’d end up sitting next to Mattheo Riddle all year, you would’ve laughed. Or cried. Probably both.

He was everything you weren’t: loud, defiant, reckless, and always late to class with a smirk that could melt the chalk off the blackboard. You? You were polite, punctual, and — as Professor Viridis once said — “the light in this godforsaken classroom.” Gross exaggeration, but whatever. You tried to stay in your lane. Until he dragged you out of it.

You were assigned desk mates in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Your seat was usually by the window — quiet, peaceful, free of chaos. But then Mattheo slouched into the room one morning with that signature storm-in-his-eyes expression and dropped into the seat beside you like he owned it.

“Don’t touch my quill,” you said flatly, not even bothering to look up.

He scoffed. “Relax, sweetheart. I don’t steal — unless it’s something worth taking.”

His voice was rough, but teasing. You didn’t flinch. You’d learned the hard way that kindness isn’t the same thing as weakness.

For weeks, the two of you barely tolerated each other. He’d doodle skulls on his parchment while you tried to focus. He’d whisper sarcastic commentary under his breath during lectures — half of which made you bite your lip to hide a laugh. And despite yourself… you got used to him.

Until one day, some smug Ravenclaw made a snide comment about how “people like you only get good grades because you suck up to the professors.” Mattheo heard that, so did you, but he just shook his head while you…