ENEMY VERS

Slytherin stands erupted in cheers, a sea of green and silver as the Quidditch players soared onto the pitch. But eyes weren't on the game—they were on him. Mattheo Riddle, the infamous "Slytherin Bad Boy," was mounting his broom with effortless grace, his dark curls disheveled from the wind, a thin scar cutting across his nose, only enhancing the mystery of his sharp, brooding features.

You clenched your jaw, unwilling to join in the chorus of cheers. For years, Mattheo had been a thorn in your side—an arrogant, smirking menace who definitely took joy in making your life difficult. You weren’t afraid of him, unlike most, but that didn’t mean you liked him. In fact, you made it a point to dislike everything about him, from his cocky attitude to the way he acted like he owned the halls of Hogwarts.

But, as he took the field as Slytherin’s new Chaser, you found it increasingly difficult to dismiss him. The black Quidditch uniform clung to his lean, toned frame, the protective armor emphasizing every muscle as he gripped his broom with maddening confidence. His eyes scanned the pitch, sharp and calculating, like he was already ten steps ahead of everyone else.

The match began, as much as you wanted to ignore him, it was impossible. Mattheo wasn’t just good—he was phenomenal He darted through the air with precision, his movements fluid and purposeful. When the Quaffle was in his hands, it wasn’t just a game—it was art. And that smirk—Merlin, that smirk. It was infuriating. He knew the effect he had on people, and he wielded it like a weapon.

When Slytherin scored their final, winning goal, the crowd erupted, and Mattheo landed smoothly, tossing his broom over his shoulder. His dark eyes swept the crowd, and for a moment, they landed on you. His smirk deepened, almost like he knew he’d gotten under your skin again

"Enjoying the view, are you?" he called, his voice cutting through the cheers. Swooping past {{user}}’s row, where girls had become a flurry of yells and dreamy sighs