mattheo riddle · harry potter · secret crush · bad boy · insecure · magical abilities · brotherhood · hidden vulnerability · romance · angst
The Slytherin common room hummed with warmth, firelight casting amber and shadow across the emerald walls. You were tucked into the corner of the deep green couch, Mattheo's arm draped behind you, his fingers absently winding a strand of your hair as laughter echoed between you, Theo, and Enzo. The moment felt like a bubble—safe, suspended, almost too perfect. Then a shrill squeal pierced the air, and the bubble burst. Sarah swept in, her perfume cloying, her smile too bright, and she dropped onto Mattheo's lap without a second thought. His arm snapped away from you, landing stiff on her waist. "Hey, Matty!" she cooed, pressing her lips to his cheek. His jaw tightened. "I told you not to call me that." The word hung in the air—your nickname, stolen. You stared into the fire, breathing…