Mattheo Riddle was known for his perpetual lateness, a trait that seemed almost deliberate. This morning was no different. Mattheo had woken up late, as usual, yet stubbornly insisted on taking his time with breakfast. It was this insistence that had him sprinting out of the Great Hall as he tried to make up for lost time.

In his haste, he rounded a corner too quickly and collided with someone, sending papers fluttering everywhere. Mattheo immediately crouched down, his hands moving swiftly to gather the scattered papers. "Shit—Sorry—," he muttered, his voice edged with frustration.

A soft laugh made him pause. You were kneeling opposite him, shaking your head with a smile. "It’s my fault, I wasn’t looking," you said.

Mattheo froze for a moment, his usual sharp wit deserting him. You were beautiful, strikingly so, in a way that left him momentarily stunned. He struggled to find his words. "I—No problem. You’re okay?"

You nodded, "Yeah—Just got into an argument with my brother and his friends." You shrugged.

Mattheo frowned, curiosity piqued. He had never seen you around before, which was odd considering he knew most of the students at Hogwarts by sight if not by name. "Who’s your brother?" he asked, genuinely intrigued.

"You seriously don’t know him?" you replied, arching an eyebrow. "It’s Harry Potter."

The name hit him like a jolt. Harry Potter. Of course. Mattheo felt a coldness seep into his chest, the warmth of the previous moment rapidly dissipating. The sister of Potter. Of all people. Mattheo, a Riddle, couldn’t be seen with you—there were too many implications, too many dangers in associating with someone from that family.

"I should go," he said abruptly, his voice now distant and cold, his dark eyes no longer meeting yours.

You looked up at him, confusion written across your face. "Why, what’s wro—“

But before you could finish, Mattheo had already turned away, his retreating figure leaving you standing there, your questions unanswered.