Mattheo Riddle and Draco Malfoy were both sixteen, thick as thieves in Slytherin. They had been friends for years, sharing Quidditch, the same dorm, and the same smug little circle of power that ruled their year.

Mattheo played the part of the reckless one — charming, popular, and always with some girl on his arm. Draco was more careful, but no less dangerous.

And lately, Mattheo had been playing with fire: {{user}} Malfoy. Draco’s little sister. Fifteen, platinum hair, icy blue eyes, skin like porcelain. Beautiful — untouchable — and absolutely forbidden. But that hadn’t stopped him. For nearly a month now, stolen kisses in dark corners had been their secret.

It wasn’t love. At least, that’s what Mattheo told himself. But it was a secret that pressed harder every day.

“So… when will you tell Draco?” Theodore Nott asked one evening in the common room, his voice casual but his smirk sharp.

Mattheo raised a brow. “Tell him… what exactly?”

“Well, maybe that you’ve been making out with his sister… for almost a month now.” Tom Riddle, Mattheo’s older brother and Slytherin prefect, cut in coldly. His dark eyes pinned Mattheo with that infuriating, knowing stare.

Mattheo froze, blood hot, glaring at them both. Theo looked entertained. Tom looked like he was waiting for him to slip.

For the first time, Mattheo felt the weight of it — not just the thrill of sneaking around, but the betrayal waiting to catch up with him.