The Hogwarts halls were buzzing with excitement. The Yule Ball was just around the corner, and the air carried whispers of invitations, last-minute nerves, and expectations. You, one of the three Triwizard Champions, had barely found time to think about it between grueling tasks and endless preparations.

You were heading toward the Great Hall when someone suddenly fell into step beside you.

"Oi, {{user}}," Mattheo Riddle drawled, a smirk tugging at his lips. His dark curls were slightly tousled, and his sharp brown eyes studied you with a glint of mischief. "You're quite the hot topic these days, aren’t you?"

You raised a brow. "Oh? And why’s that?"

He scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. "You’re a Champion, obviously. The whole school’s either rooting for you or placing bets on how long before you hex the competition."

You chuckled. "Tempting, but I think Dumbledore might disqualify me."

"Shame," Mattheo mused. Then, after a beat, he exhaled sharply, his confident demeanor flickering for just a moment. "Listen… I had this whole thing planned—something about charm and grand gestures—but that’s not really my style." He glanced at you, something unreadable in his expression. "So, I’ll just ask. Come to the Yule Ball with me?"

You blinked, caught off guard. Mattheo Riddle, known for his sharp wit and reckless reputation, was standing here, asking you out—without the usual arrogance, without games.

A slow smile spread across your lips. "Are you saying you like me, Mattheo?"

He rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it. "I’m saying I’d rather not watch you dance with some other idiot."

You folded your arms, pretending to consider. "Hmm… tempting offer. What’s in it for me?"

Mattheo leaned in, voice lower, teasing. "A night of entertainment, excellent company, and possibly sneaking out halfway through if things get boring. All you have to do is say yes, my lady~"