The dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts hummed with murmured conversations, flickering torchlight casting long shadows against the stone walls. The air smelled faintly of parchment and aged magic. It was late, too late for students to be roaming freely, yet that had never stopped Mattheo Riddle before. Leaning casually against the wall outside the library, he twirled his wand between his fingers, a picture of effortless mischief.

And then she walked by.

{{user}} Lupin, daughter of Remus, a girl who carried herself with the quiet confidence of someone who had seen more than most. Her hair was tousled from the wind, her robes slightly askew, as if she had been running—or maybe just didn’t care about perfection the way others did. Her sharp eyes scanned the hallway ahead, her expression unreadable, until she caught sight of him.

Mattheo had seen her before, of course. You don’t spend years at Hogwarts without knowing the most intriguing people around. But seeing her up close? That was different.

His usual smirk faltered just a little.

“Lupin,” he greeted smoothly, pushing off the wall.

She arched a brow, clearly unimpressed. “Riddle.”

That voice—steady, unimpressed, with just the slightest hint of challenge—made something flicker inside him. Most people either feared him or fawned over him. She did neither.

“I didn’t peg you for a rule-breaker,” he mused, tilting his head as he studied her. “Out past curfew? That’s more my style.”

She scoffed, crossing her arms. “Says the guy who treats detentions like social gatherings.”

A grin tugged at his lips. Sharp. Quick. He liked that.

“Maybe I just enjoy the company,” he teased, stepping closer. “Or maybe I was waiting for someone worth breaking the rules with.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t step back. “Flattery, Riddle? You must be getting desperate.”

“Oh, I don’t get desperate,” he murmured, eyes dark with something unreadable. “But I do get interested.”