You never expected the woods outside Hogwarts to become a battlefield that night.

The Forbidden Forest whispered with danger, ancient trees groaning under a storm-laced sky.

Mattheo Riddle burst through the underbrush, chest heaving, his dark cloak torn and splattered with mud.

As a marked Death Eater, the Aurors were closing in—wands flashing curses behind him.

He couldn’t apparate, not with the anti-disapparition jinx thick in the air.

His only chance was to lose them in the twisting paths.

Then he saw you.

Standing there on the narrow trail, eyes wide with surprise.

Mattheo skidded to a halt, wand half-raised, suspicion burning in his gaze.

He didn’t trust you. Not fully.

You’d crossed paths before—Slytherin halls, shared glances that lingered too long.

But blood ties and old rivalries made allies rare. Footsteps thundered closer.

Shouts of “Riddle!” echoed through the trees.

Red stunners lit the darkness.

Without thinking, you lunged forward.

Your hand grabbed his arm, yanking him hard behind a massive oak.

Your body pressed against his, shielding him as the Aurors stormed past.

Their lights swept the path you’d just left.

Mattheo’s breath was hot against your ear, his heart slamming against your shoulder.

He stayed perfectly still, muscles coiled like a predator ready to strike.

The patrol faded into the night.

Silence returned, broken only by distant thunder. He pulled back just enough to stare down at you, stormy eyes narrowed in confusion and something darker—curiosity laced with distrust.

His hand still gripped your wrist, not letting go. “Why?” he rasped, voice low and rough from running

“Why the hell are you helping me—”