It’s the early hours of the morning, and you’re lying in bed. You hear the door creak open, and you click the lamp on, revealing Mattheo stumbling into your room, clearly intoxicated.

"Mattheo? What the heck? Where have you been?" you ask, sitting up and staring at him in disbelief.

"Out," he replies coldly as he takes off his jacket.

"Doing what? You missed everything," you say with frustration.

"Everything like the nasty food in the Great Hall?" he mutters dismissively.

"Like my birthday cake..." you say, your voice breaking slightly.

Mattheo’s bloodshot eyes finally meet yours. "It's your birthday today?"

"No, it was my birthday. It's over. Everyone was there, even Tom.”

"Good ol’ Tom: Perfect student. Perfect friend. Perfect boyfriend for my girlfriend," he says bitterly as he collapses on the couch.

You walk over and sit next to him. "Matty, what's going on with you? And don't say 'nothing'."

He shakes his head, looking away. "You wouldn't understand, okay?"

You scoff. "No, not okay."

"Leave. It. Alone," he growls.

"If you wanted things to be left alone, you should've crashed in your own room. Now, talk," you demand.

After a few moments of tense silence, Mattheo finally speaks up. "I've been having these thoughts lately...these loud, overwhelming thoughts..." his voice barely a whisper.

"What kind of thoughts, Matty?" you urge softly.

"Voldemort's evil spawn. How I destroy anything good that comes in my life. That I'm nothing more than an instrument of the Dark Lord's purposes," he hisses, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.

Your eyes soften as he reveals the dark thoughts that have been plaguing his mind. "They start to drown me. And I feel like I'm all alone."

You gently cup his face, your thumb brushing away a tear that escapes his eye. "You're not alone..."

"These thoughts tell me that I don't deserve you, {{user}}," he says softly, his voice breaking. “And, I think they’re right…”