The Riddle of Us *Mattheo x Reader*

Chapter 7 Leaving Hogwarts

"Finally," she said, tossing the magazine aside. "I was wondering how long it would take you to admit it."

Y/n blinked. "Wait, what?"

"Oh, please," Pansy scoffed. "You've been miserable without me."

Y/n crossed her arms. "You've been miserable without me."

"Obviously." Pansy smirked. "You're my best friend, aren't you?"

Just like that, the tension melted away. Y/n's lips twitched, and she sighed, finally sitting beside her.

"I really did miss you, you know," she admitted, softer this time. "Everything's been—well, you know how it is."

Pansy hummed knowingly. "The usual Malfoy nonsense?"

Y/n shrugged, but the meaning was clear.

Lucius's sharp, calculating gaze. Narcissa's delicate but ever-disappointed sighs. The unspoken truth that Draco would always be the pride of the family while she remained the afterthought, the necessary sacrifice they had made long ago.

Pansy understood. She always did.

"Come on, then," Pansy said, nudging her shoulder. "Tell me everything. We've got a month's worth of gossip to catch up on, and frankly, I can't bear to hear another second of Blaise's opinions on Quidditch tactics."

Blaise muttered something unintelligible but didn't argue.

Y/n smiled, warmth finally settling in her chest.

She may have been the almost-needed sheep of her family, but at least here—here with Pansy, with the Slytherins who had become her own twisted version of a family—she mattered.

—

Exams were always the hardest part of the school year, but this time, Y/n felt it in her bones. It wasn't just the late nights spent hunched over dusty tomes in the library, ink-stained fingers trembling from too much tea and too little sleep. It wasn't just the endless essays or the persistent throbbing in her temples from deciphering the absurd complexities of Ancient Runes.

No, it was something deeper.

It was the quiet that had settled around her, thick and stifling. She had barely seen Pansy or the boys, barely engaged in the usual Slytherin gossip. Even Draco had begun to comment on it, though his remarks were more complaints about her absence than genuine concern.

Not that she was in any mood to listen to him.

Especially after his latest triumph.

Draco had been practically smug when he told her, chest puffed out in that insufferable way of his, detailing how he had whinged and moaned to Lucius until, at last, the wheels had been set in motion—Buckbeak was to be executed.

Y/n had kept her face impassive, offering nothing more than a vague hum in response, but inside, she had seethed. Her grip had tightened around the quill in her hand until the nib snapped.

She wasn't stupid; she had always known how this would end.

But knowing didn't make it any easier.

Which was why, despite the relentless downpour that had begun to drum against the castle windows, Y/n found herself slipping silently through the corridors late that evening, her robes pulled tight around her, Charms notes forgotten in her dormitory.

She needed air.

She needed to see him.

The rain pelted down in heavy sheets, drenching the grounds of Hogwarts in a silvery shimmer beneath the moon's eerie glow. The castle loomed in the distance, its spires piercing the stormy sky, the warm glow of candlelight flickering through the high windows. Y/n pulled her cloak tighter around her, though it was already soaked through, the fabric clinging to her skin. She could barely feel the cold anymore—her mind was too preoccupied with everything weighing her down.