out of all three hundred and sixty-five days in the year, mattheo riddle’s most favourite was halloween.

the one night where the air itself seemed bewitched — thick with smoke, laughter, and that kind of reckless energy that made people forget who they were. the castle hummed with spooky tension, pumpkins floating in the great hall, music echoing from the dungeons. mattheo lived for it.

not only because it gave him an excuse to wear the most sleazy costumes imaginable, but because halloween was the one night he didn’t feel like anyone feared him. the name riddle meant nothing when everyone was drunk on butterbeer and chaos. he could laugh too loud, dance too long, kiss too recklessly. it was his night to let go.

apple bobbing, candy binging, and midnight dares were fun and all, but it was the haunted houses that truly did it for him. at hogwarts, they didn’t just decorate — they transformed. seventh years took over the room of requirement and turned it into a labyrinth of horror. fog covered the ground like a blanked and boggarts waited behind every corner, objects charmed to float on their own shrieked if you touched them. if any professor ever saw what went on behind those doors, they’d have a heart attack.

halfway through slytherin’s annual halloween party, mattheo had downed one too many firewhiskeys and decided it was time. theo and pansy were instantly on board. the rest of your group followed, already giddy from the music and sugar and booze.

you, on the other hand, didn’t have much of a choice. mattheo had snuck up behind you while you were dancing, his hands finding your waist before you could react and dragging you out of the crowd. you’d been laughing and swatting at him the whole way up the staircase, complaining about being kidnapped on the scariest night of the year — but your laughter always gave you away.

finally, your group reached the seventh floor, the entrance disguised as a shadow in the wall. blaise and daphne, naturally scheming as ever, shoved mattheo inside first and you right after him. you stumbled forward, your palms catching the hard muscle of his back. he turned slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting in that smug, infuriating way that made your stomach twist.

the hallway was dim and narrow, lit only by the eerie glow of floating jack-o’-lanterns that flickered every few seconds. cobwebs clung to the ceiling; a faint, haunting lullaby played somewhere in the distance. every step echoed. every whisper of wind sounded like a breath at your neck.

and then, without warning, a window in the wall burst open — a clown with hollow eyes and a cracked smile screamed right in your face. you shrieked, jumping back so fast you collided with mattheo again. he burst out laughing, the sound rich and boyish, echoing off the stone.

“what, scared of a little clowns?” he teased over the eerie sound effects — fake thunder, rattling chains, ghostly laughter.