as the world caves in; mattheo riddle

twenty-five

Blaise narrows his eyes at me in a teasing manner.

"Can't help that you're the interesting gossip of the day, Amora," Blaise shoots back.

Pansy perks up, her eyes lighting up with a familiar sense of mischief as she leans over the table, resting against her elbows.

"To be fair, it was very dramatic. The energy in that room is seriously off," she says.

"I thought he was gonna hex someone," Theo adds. "And by someone, I mean you."

Theo nudges my shoulder as I force out a small laugh.

"Yeah, well," I mutter, picking up my goblet. "If he does, at least I won't have to go to detention."

"Bold plan. Let me know how that works out for you," Draco snorts, sarcasm lingering in his tone.

I shoot him a playful glare from across the table before taking a sip from my glass. The easy banter flows among my friends and throughout the room, the Great Hall alive with chatter and the clatter of cutlery against plates.

But somewhere deep down, beneath the joking and the laughter, an unease still lingers. Though that seemed to be a constant feeling—one I had almost began to get used to. It felt like no matter how normal everything seems to be, it never lasts.

~~~

I laid awake in bed, another restless night settling in. I couldn't find solace in sleep, not with so many things still so fresh in my mind.

When Mattheo had first come to Hogwarts, I knew he was dangerous. I knew he had a darkness that followed him, but no matter what, he couldn't scare me off. Even after he told me about his task, I still came to see him. Just about every night.

But Tom was something else entirely. And it wasn't just the stares, or the way his words always felt like a dare—it was the fact that beneath it all, I couldn't quite tell what game he was playing. Or worse, if I was a piece in it.

I turned over in bed, staring at the ceiling as the moonlight sliced through the curtains in sharp, silver streaks.

The silence in the dorm was heavy, like a weight pressing against my chest. Or maybe it was anxiety. Either way, I had to get out.

I quietly slip out of bed as I had so many times before, sliding on a pair of slippers before wrapping my jacket around me and tiptoeing toward the door.

The halls of the castle were so peaceful at this hour, which I suppose is part of the reason I picked up the habit of late night walks. The other being Mattheo.

I didn't have a particular destination in mind, yet my feet curved the path to the Astronomy Tower. Maybe it was instinct or fate, or the simple habit of repetition I had done so many nights before. But it had always been my refuge.

I climb the familiar spiral staircase, my breath catching slightly with each step. I reach the top, rounding the corner as the cold, bitter January night air stings my skin. I hug my jacket tighter around my body, taking a deep breath as I step onto the platform.

A figure stood at the edge of the tower, hunched slightly against the wind. His hands gripped the railing, broad shoulders, and the dark jacket of a familiar silhouette.

Mattheo.

I step closer, a sense of relief washing over me. I didn't call out at first, I didn't have to with him. I just quietly approached.

Though as I grew closer, something felt... off.

The way he stood—rigid, tense. His hair far too neatly combed. His hands wrapped tightly around the railings, as if bracing himself.