Fated in Green

Potions class had never been my favorite, and being paired with Mattheo Riddle wasn't going to change that.

The dungeon was as cold and damp as always, the faint scent of crushed herbs and burnt ingredients lingering in the air. I pulled my cloak tighter around me as Professor Snape's voice sliced through the murmur of students.

"Today, you will be brewing Draught of Living Death," Snape announced, his tone clipped. "An exceptionally difficult potion. You will work in pairs, and I expect perfection."

I glanced at Estella, hoping we'd be paired together as usual, but Snape's next words crushed that hope.

"Potter," he drawled, his black eyes sweeping over me. "You'll be working with Riddle. Black, you're with Malfoy."

I barely had time to groan before Mattheo slid onto the stool beside me, his expression unreadable.

"Looks like we're stuck together," he said flatly, not even glancing my way as he began arranging the ingredients.

"Brilliant," I muttered under my breath, pulling my textbook closer.

At the next table, Estella was already deep in conversation with Draco. They were talking strategy, but it didn't escape my notice that Theo, sitting a few rows behind them, kept glancing their way. His jaw was tight, and his green eyes narrowed every time Draco leaned a little too close to Estella.

I smirked to myself, filing that observation away for later.

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As we started on the potion, Mattheo remained completely silent, his movements efficient and mechanical. He measured out the asphodel root and stirred the cauldron with precise flicks of his wrist, never once looking at me.

"So, are we not talking today?" I asked, trying to break the tension.

He didn't respond.

I rolled my eyes, chopping up valerian roots a little more forcefully than necessary. "Fine. Be like that."

For the next twenty minutes, we worked in tense silence, the only sounds coming from the soft bubbling of the cauldron and the occasional scrape of a knife against the cutting board.

It was infuriating.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. "About the party last night," I said, glancing at him. "I don't remember much. How did I get back to my bed?"

Mattheo froze for a split second, his hand tightening around the vial he was holding. Then, just as quickly, he shrugged and went back to his work. "You probably walked."

I frowned. "I was drunk. I don't think I could've walked straight, let alone made it all the way back to the dorm."

"Well, you clearly managed," he said, his tone clipped.

I narrowed my eyes. "You're being weird. Did something happen?"

"Nothing happened," he snapped, his hazel eyes flashing as he finally looked at me. "Just drop it, Potter."

His words stung more than I wanted to admit. I bit my lip, focusing on grinding the sopophorous beans into a fine paste.

The tension between us grew heavier, crackling like static in the air.

W both reached for the powdered root of valerian at the same time, our hands brushing. The contact sent a jolt through me, and I pulled back quickly, only to see Mattheo do the same. His jaw tightened, and he refused to meet my gaze.

"Sorry," I muttered, though I wasn't sure why I was apologizing.

He didn't respond, his focus firmly on the potion.

By the time we added the final ingredients, the silence between us felt suffocating. The potion shimmered a perfect pale lilac, the telltale sign of success.

Snape strode over, his black robes billowing, and peered into our cauldron.

"Impressive," he said, his tone begrudging. "Ten points to Slytherin."

"Of course," Mattheo muttered under his breath, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

As soon as Snape moved on, Mattheo began cleaning up, his movements sharp and hurried.

"Thanks for your help," I said, my voice laced with sarcasm as I wiped down the table.

He didn't respond.

As he grabbed his bag to leave, I blurted out the question that had been sitting on my tongue since the last time we'd brewed Amortentia together.

"What did you smell?"

Mattheo froze, his back to me. For a moment, I thought he wasn't going to answer. But then he turned his head slightly, just enough for me to catch the edge of his profile.

"Vanilla," he said quietly. "And leather. And something else."

"Something else?" I asked, frowning. "What was it?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he slung his bag over his shoulder and walked out of the classroom without another word.

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I stood there for a moment, staring at the door, trying to process what had just happened.

"Rose!" Estella's voice pulled me back to reality.

I turned to see her hurrying over, her bag slung casually over her shoulder. Draco followed behind her, heading for the door without a word.

"What was that about?" she asked, falling into step beside me as we left the classroom.

"No idea," I admitted. "He barely spoke to me the whole time, and then he snapped at me when I asked about last night."

Estella frowned. "That's... weird."

"Yeah, and then I asked him about Amortentia."

Her eyebrows shot up. "And?"

"He said he smelled vanilla, leather, and something else, but he wouldn't tell me what the last thing was," I said, shaking my head.

Estella hummed thoughtfully. "He's definitely hiding something."

"No kidding," I muttered.

As we walked toward the common room, my mind kept drifting back to Mattheo's words—and the look in his eyes when our hands had touched.

Vanilla. Leather. And something else.

What was he hiding?