You were tucked into your usual corner of the Slytherin common room, knees pulled up on the velvet couch and a book balanced lightly between your fingers. The fire crackled quietly, casting a warm glow over the pages. You didn’t even notice Mattheo pacing behind you — not at first, anyway.

But you could feel it. The storm. The way he always shifted the air around him when he was irritated beyond reason.

Suddenly, he stopped right in front of you.

Ugh. I cannot stand you.

You blinked up from your book. He sounded like he meant it — furious, breathless, on edge — but the look in his eyes said something else entirely.

Mattheo ran a hand through his hair, jaw tight. Ughh, I. cannot. stand— no. No, I won’t let you infuriate me any longer.

He pointed at you like you were the source of all chaos in his world.

Look at you. Thinking you’re something special.

You raised an eyebrow, the corner of your lip twitching. You didn’t say a word, which only seemed to make him more unhinged.

I can’t stand the way you walk, the way you talk with that sweet little voice of yours—

His gaze flicked to a loose curl falling over your shoulder. —The way your hair sways from the left to the right every time you move.

His voice dropped lower, rougher.

Or the way you twirl it around your index finger when you’re engrossed in that damn book.

He stared at you like you were a problem he couldn’t solve — and worst of all, one he couldn’t escape.

Ugh. Why can’t you just look at me the way you look at that book?

Your breath hitched. He noticed that. He noticed everything.

Mattheo exhaled sharply, like the fight had drained from him.

Fine. You know what?

He leaned closer, hands on either side of your chair, trapping you without touching you.

You win.

His eyes were painfully honest for once.

I want you.

A beat. A breath. A truth that slipped out before he could stop it.

But the one thing I cannot stand… is that I can’t have you.

Your book slipped slightly in your hand, forgotten.

Because in that moment, he wasn’t angry. He was yours — even if he didn’t have the right to be.