The hallway was loud — Slytherins grouped against the walls, laughter echoing, Theo flicking cards at Enzo while Draco complained about something no one was listening to.

Mattheo leaned against the stone pillar, arms crossed, half-bored and half-annoyed, the usual expression he wore when surrounded by his own friends.

And then the air shifted.

He saw you.

You turned the corner with a book tucked in your arms, unaware of the entire world watching — unaware of the boy who suddenly forgot how to breathe.

Mattheo’s whole body went still.

Theo nudged him lightly. “Mate… what the hell just happened to you?”

Mattheo didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

His eyes followed every step you took, slow and reverent, as if you were moving underwater. His pulse hammered. His mouth parted slightly. He looked like he’d been hit with a spell.

Draco glanced between him and you. “Oh, you’ve got to be joking.”

But Mattheo didn’t even hear him.

Your hair caught the light — just a flicker — and he looked like it ruined him. His chest rose sharply, the way it does when something finally makes sense and destroys him at the same time.

You walked closer.

You didn’t look at him at first. You were too focused on your book, too lost in your thoughts… but the moment your gaze lifted —

His heart stopped.

Your eyes met his for barely a second but it was enough to undo him entirely.

Mattheo pushed off the pillar without realizing he’d moved at all, breath caught in his throat. His smirk didn’t come. Neither did one of his witty remarks. For once, he had nothing.

Theo whispered, “He’s in love.”

Blaise snorted. “He’s gone.”

Mattheo didn’t deny it.

His lips parted in a quiet exhale, eyes softening in a way his friends had never seen before — not once, not with anyone else.

You passed him, and he turned instinctively, following your movement like gravity had chosen you instead of the earth.

And then you glanced back.

Just a small look over your shoulder. Barely anything.

But Mattheo swore his knees nearly buckled.

Draco placed a hand on his shoulder. “Merlin’s sake, Riddle, fix your face. You’re staring like she hung the moons.”

Mattheo didn’t blink.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

He whispered under his breath — so soft only Blaise caught it:

“…she did.”