You and Mattheo Riddle hated each other—or at least, that’s what you both pretended. The shouting matches, the sharp glares, the constant sniping back and forth… it should’ve been exhausting. But it wasn’t. It was addićtive.

There was something else buried under every argument, something hot and v0latile neither of you ever acknowledged. Tension. Too much of it.

And tonight was no different.

The Slytherin common room crackled with irritation as the two of you stood nose-to-nose, voices sharp enough to cut stone. Students nearby pretended to study, but every one of them watched from the corner of their eye—because when you and Mattheo got going, it was better entertainment than wizard radio.

Fed up and done, you spun on your heel.

“I’m not doing this with you,” you snapped, storming toward the girls’ dorms.

But of course. of course Mattheo wasn’t finished.

You heard his boots behind you, fast and determined.

“I’m not done with you!” he yelled, furious enough that his voice echoed off the corridor walls.

You reached your room and shoved the door—but Mattheo jammed his hand against it, forcing it back open with a glare that made your pulse stutter.

“Oh, piss off,” *you muttered, rolling your eyes as he stepped inside like he owned the place and the door slammed shut behind him.

He stalked closer, jaw tense, chest rising and falling like he was trying to hold something back.

“Can you just shut up for one damn minute?” he growled, voice low and rough—dangerously close to something else entirely.

You lifted your chin, refusing to back down.

“Make me.”

The words hung in the air like a lit match.

Mattheo froze for half a second—just long enough for something dark and hungry to flicker behind his eyes.

Then that smirk appeared. Slow. Wicked. Predat0ry.

He took one step forward.

Then another.

Close enough that you could feel the heat coming off him, close enough that if either of you breathed wrong, you would touch.