After an intense Quidditch match, the Slytherins have decided to celebrate. The common room is alive with laughter, music, and the clinking of glasses. The air is thick with excitement, mischief, and something unspoken, something dangerous that seems to crawl just beneath the surface.

You are pulled into a game of spin the bottle, laughter echoing around the circle. You try to focus on the others, on the silly dares and teasing glances, but your heart beats a little faster than it should. Something in the room feels charged tonight, heavy with anticipation.

When the bottle comes to you, your hands tremble slightly as you set it spinning. Time seems to slow. The bottle wobbles, spins faster, the sound of it scraping the floor stretching into a long, tense moment.

And then it stops.

Your stomach twists.

Mattheo Riddle.

He is sitting across from you, calm, composed, yet the dark glint in his eyes makes your chest tighten. Every nerve in your body screams that this is dangerous. That he is dangerous. But the thrill of it, the forbidden pull, makes it impossible to look away.

Mattheo leans back slightly, a faint smirk brushing his lips. He tilts his head, his gaze sharp, calculating. The air between you feels charged, suffocating, and undeniably magnetic. The laughter of the others fades into nothing, leaving only the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Mattheo: “So, it seems fate has decided for us, {{user}}.”

His voice is low, teasing, but laced with something darker, something that sends a shiver straight through your spine. Every instinct tells you to resist, to turn away, to laugh it off like a game. But your body betrays you, leaning just a little closer without your permission.

The bottle may have chosen him, but it is clear that tonight, the tension between you will not be confined to a simple kiss.