The Riddle of Us *Mattheo x Reader*

Chapter 3 Picture Perfect Holidays, but with the Malfoys

And then, there were the broom closets. It wasn't long before both sides began locking each other in them. You'd be walking down a hall, minding your own business, when suddenly a hand would shoot out from behind the door, and before you could even scream, the door would slam shut, leaving you trapped inside with only the faint sound of laughter from the hall outside. There were a few close calls with near-misses—nearly getting caught by professors, almost facing punishment—but that didn't stop either side. No one was safe from the mischief that had taken over the school.

That night it was a quiet, chilly night as Y/N walked swiftly through the Hogwarts corridors, trying to avoid the creaky spots in the floor that always gave her away. She had just finished setting up a prank in the library—a harmless one, really, but she'd been up to far more than that recently, and she knew she'd have to sneak her way back to the common room.

It was already well past curfew, and the castle was eerily still. Every step she took felt louder than the last, making her stomach twist in anticipation. She rounded the corner near the staircase, only to stop dead in her tracks.

Professor McGonagall was heading straight for her.

Y/N froze, her heart skipping a beat. There was no way she was going to get away with this if the professor caught her. The only thing she could do was duck into the nearest empty broom closet, praying McGonagall wouldn't spot her.

But just as she moved to open the door, a hand shot out from behind her, gripping her waist and pulling her backwards.

"Oi!" she gasped, barely able to register what was happening before she was shoved into the broom closet with a soft thud.

She whirled around, ready to give whoever it was a piece of her mind—only to see Mattheo standing in front of her. His eyes were darker than usual, glinting mischievously as he smirked at her.

"Mattheo!" she hissed, her heart still racing. "What are you doing? You can't just—"

He cut her off with a finger to his lips. "Quiet," he whispered, leaning in close, his breath warm against her cheek. "McGonagall will hear us."

Y/N's pulse quickened as she swallowed. She tried to push away from him, but the small, cramped closet didn't leave her much room to move. Her back pressed against the cold stone wall, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

Mattheo didn't seem to mind the closeness. In fact, he leaned in even closer, the faintest smirk playing on his lips. "You're looking a little flustered, Y/N."

"Am not," she muttered, though she could feel her face heating up. Why was he this close? Why was he looking at her like that?

"Oh?" Mattheo's voice dropped an octave, more teasing now, his gaze moving from her eyes down to her lips before returning to meet her gaze. "Because you certainly look like you are."

Y/N's heart thudded in her chest as she shifted uncomfortably, her mind racing. She wasn't sure whether to be angry, embarrassed, or something else entirely. What was he playing at?

Mattheo took another step forward, his body now just inches from hers. "Tell me, Y/N," he said, his voice a low, almost seductive whisper. "Are you always this feisty, or is it just when you're around me?"

She frowned, trying to step back further into the corner, but there was nowhere to go. Her mind was a swirl of confusion, and she couldn't understand what he was doing or why. Was he... flirting with her?

"Stop messing around, Mattheo," she said, her voice barely more than a breath. Was this a joke? Was he trying to get a rise out of her?

He leaned in again, closer this time, so close that she could feel the warmth of his body seeping into hers. "Who says I'm messing around?" he asked softly, his lips almost brushing her ear. "Maybe I'm just trying to get under your skin, love."