The corridor fell into a hush the moment the seven Slytherin boys turned the corner. Their voices—low laughter, muttered schemes, Theo’s dry comment that made Lorenzo smirk—echoed against the stone. But then, the sound faltered.

Mattheo was the first to notice. His gaze caught something shimmering at the far end of the hallway, and he slowed, chest tightening as though his lungs forgot how to work.

You.

Every step you took was measured, regal, each tap of your heels against the floor magnified in his ears. A pale gown flowed around you like liquid silk, every fold catching the torchlight until it looked as if the fabric itself held stars. The tiara nestled in your hair glimmered faintly, the jewels carved in delicate arcs, framing your face with an otherworldly light.

Two royal guards flanked you, their armor polished, their strides in perfect sync with yours. They didn’t speak, didn’t look away, their presence only sharpening the sense that you were untouchable—separated from everyone else in this castle by a world of bloodlines and crowns.

The boys unconsciously slowed their pace. Blaise tilted his head, his smirk vanishing. Lorenzo shoved his hands into his pockets, eyes narrowing with quiet intrigue. Draco’s mouth opened slightly, words dying before they reached his lips. Even Tom, usually calm and impenetrable, lifted his gaze with a flicker of recognition that didn’t often grace his face.

But it was Mattheo who truly froze.

Your gown trailed like a ribbon of light across the floor, every detail catching his eye in sharp, unbearable slow motion. He noticed how the tiara tilted just slightly, as if you had adjusted it moments before. How your hand brushed the skirt when you walked, keeping the rhythm steady, unconcerned with the awe you stirred. The guards’ boots struck the stone in unison, making each beat echo like a drum announcing your arrival.

It didn’t feel like you were walking toward them. It felt like the hall itself bent to your presence, like gravity had shifted, every torch flame leaning closer just to catch a glimpse.

For a heartbeat, the world outside that corridor didn’t exist. Just the boys. Just you. Just the silence hanging between royalty and rebellion.

And in the center of it all, Mattheo’s dark eyes burned, following only you.