only you mattheo riddle

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### **Chapter 7 - Whispers in the Dark**

The fire had burned low in the common room, leaving only embers casting faint, flickering shadows against the stone walls. Most of the others had already gone to bed, but I stayed behind, tracing the faint scar on my hand where the blood quill had bitten into my skin.

I hated scars. Not because they were ugly-I wore them like trophies-but because they were *proof*. Proof that the Ministry had their claws deeper in us than ever before. Proof that magic-true magic-was being smothered under their control.

I didn't realize Mattheo was still there until he spoke.

"Your hand still bothering you?"

I glanced up. He was sitting across from me, dark eyes flicking between my face and my hand. His own fingers absentmindedly traced the faint red lines on his own skin.

"It's not the pain," I admitted. "It's what it means."

Mattheo leaned back, studying me like he was trying to pick apart a puzzle. "Go on."

I flipped my dagger between my fingers, the metal glinting in the dim light. "They've been chipping away at magic for years. Banning blood rituals. Outlawing the Olde ways. Declaring what is and isn't *acceptable* magic. And people let it happen."

Mattheo's smirk was sharp. "Not us."

"No," I said darkly, "not us."

A long silence stretched between us, charged with something electric. Then, finally, Mattheo tilted his head, eyes gleaming with something I could only describe as intrigue.

"So," he mused, "what do you propose we do about it?"

I met his gaze, lips curling into a slow, dangerous smile.

"We start taking magic back."

For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then, almost lazily, Mattheo smirked. "Now *that* sounds interesting."

Before either of us could say more, the common room door swung open, and Blaise and Draco strolled in.

Draco raised a brow at the two of us. "What are you plotting?"

I leaned back, slipping my dagger back into my boot. "World domination."

Blaise snorted. "Sounds about right."

Mattheo flicked me a glance, something unreadable passing between us. "Something like that."

This wasn't just an idea anymore.

It was the beginning of something much, much bigger.

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