The late afternoon light filtered through the tall windows of the Slytherin common room, casting long shadows over the stone walls. The fire crackled softly, the only sound between you and Mattheo. You watched him from across the room, his dark curls falling into his eyes as he hastily packed his bag, his movements sharp, like he couldn’t get away fast enough.

He had been different lately. Quieter, more withdrawn. You had noticed it weeks ago, the way he seemed on edge, like he was carrying the weight of something too heavy for him alone. His family—the Riddles—had always been a source of pressure, but something had shifted. The whispers about his father’s dark ambitions had started to follow Mattheo, haunting him wherever he went. And now, after one too many fights, too many cold words exchanged with his father, he was leaving.

“You can’t be serious about this,” you said, trying to keep the desperation from creeping into your voice.

Mattheo didn’t look at you. His jaw was clenched, his dark eyes fixed on the floor as he tossed another book into his bag. “I’m done with this place.”

“You’re leaving Hogwarts, just like that? After everything?” Your heart pounded in your chest as you crossed the room, trying to make him face you “We need you.”

Mattheo stopped, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. He straightened, still not looking at you. Then, with a bitter laugh, he shook his head and turned toward you.

“We need?” he echoed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Well, what about you need?”

Your breath caught in your throat, his question cutting deeper than you expected. “I need?” Your mind raced, trying to process the question, trying to figure out what he was really asking. You felt exposed, vulnerable under his intense gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He scoffed, his lips curling into a half-smile, but it was bitter, like the words tasted wrong on his tongue. “You probably don’t.” and then he was moving again, grabbing his bag with a final, forceful motion.