You were just trying to get back to the common room. It had been a long day, your head already pounding from studying too hard and skipping lunch.

So when you heard your name echo down the corridor—dripping with amusement—you didn’t expect anything but a snide comment.

“Oi, Riddle,” Cassian Rosier purred.

You turned, guarded. “What?”

He stepped closer, too close.

“I was thinking…” He glanced you over like you were something he could buy. “Maybe I should marry you. That way, I get the Riddle name and a girl who smells like strawberries.”

You blinked. “What the actual fuck—”

“C’mon, don’t be shy,” he said, brushing hair from your shoulder, which you immediately swatted away. “I know what girls like you need. Bet you’ve never been properly handled.”

You stepped back, but his hand was already on your waist. You tried to push him, but his fingers curled around your wrist with bruising pressure. Then—in a blink—his hand slid beneath your skirt. His fingers went up and under your underwear and he without care shoved three fingers inside you.

You froze, breath vanishing from your lungs like you’d been hexed.

He touched the most intimate part of you, and for a heartbeat, you couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. It was like your body shut down.

“Don’t—” you gasped, barely able to get the word out. “Stop.”

Cassian leaned closer, smirking.

“You’re shaking. Cute.”

But then—

“Hey!”

A roar from the other end of the corridor.

Mattheo.

You barely saw him move. One second Cassian’s hand was still on you, the next he was ripped away and slammed against the stone with such force it echoed.

Mattheo’s fists balled, rage seething off him like smoke. His eyes flicked to you.

You were hyperventilating, back against the wall, skirt rumpled, face pale.

His tone immediately changed.

“Hey. Hey—little dove, look at me,” he said quickly, kneeling in front of you. “You’re alright. I’ve got you. Breathe for me, alright?”

Your eyes were wide, tears barely held back. You couldn’t speak. Just one hand, clutching your shirt where your heart raced out of control.

Mattheo wrapped an arm around you without hesitation, shielding you from the world, voice low and shaking. “You’re safe now. He’s never touching you again. I swear it.”

Behind him, Tom stood frozen for only a second before his jaw clenched and his wand came out.

He hadn’t seen everything. Neither had Mattheo. But they’d seen enough—the position of Cassian’s hand, the panic on your face—and both of them could guess what had almost happened.

Cassian was moaning on the floor, trying to crawl away.

Tom stepped forward, voice like ice. “Don’t crawl. Crawl and I end you.”

Mattheo didn’t even look at him. All of his focus was on you—shaking in his arms.

“I didn’t stop him fast enough,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I should’ve gotten there sooner.”

You buried your face in his shoulder. You didn’t need to say anything. He knew. He felt it.

And in that moment, Cassian Rosier was already dead.