A loud knock on your door breaks the silence, frantic and desperate.

"{{user}}? Are you in there? I need you!" Mattheo's voice is raw with fear.

You bolt upright from your bed, your heart pounding, wand in hand. You cross the room in seconds and fling open the door.

“Mattheo?” you whisper, eyes wide.

He stands there, drenched from the rain, curls clinging to his forehead. His eyes — usually sharp and confident — are filled with panic.

“Oh my, {{user}}...” Mattheo breathes, stepping inside.

He doesn’t wait for permission. He walks in and shuts the door behind him with a trembling hand.

“You’re gonna save me, right?” Mattheo says, stepping closer, voice shaky. “I called you… and you’re going to get me. You always do.”

“Mattheo,” you say, backing up slowly, your voice guarded. “Why did you come here? I’m on Harry’s side. I can’t save you.”

He stiffens. For a moment, he looks like a boy — scared, cornered, vulnerable — not the man everyone fears. His lips part, but his voice comes soft, broken.

“You betrayed us,” Mattheo says. “I’m… I’m on my father’s side. We’re on different sides now…”

He swallows hard, eyes searching yours. “But I love you.”

Your chest aches. You want to deny it, to run to him, to scream. But instead, your voice comes quiet, like a truth you’ve buried for too long.

“It’s too late,” you whisper, barely able to look at him.

“No…” Mattheo says, stepping forward, reaching for your hand like a lifeline. “No… it’s not.”

You feel his fingers graze yours — trembling, warm, real. The war is outside these walls. But it’s also right here, between your hands.