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lili863 · 22 days

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Animagus

(Pt 5)

Matteo Riddle x MC

AN: Enemies to lovers, Quidditch, banter, conspiracies, dark arts, manipulation, death eaters, Slytherin boys, suggestive themes

Word count: 5.7 K

Masterlist

**************

"UGH!"

Ripple grunted in pain as his back slammed against the cold stone wall. His wide eyes darted around, taking in the group of Slytherins that had cornered him, their faces marked by the casual cruelty of those who know they hold all the power.

"Hate to break it you but if you ever thought you were my type then you’ve clearly lost your fucking mind," Matteo chuckled, though the sharp edge in his voice made it clear he wasn’t really amused.

The Hufflepuff tried to salvage what little dignity he had left "I-I didn’t mean it! I swear, I don’t know what happened!"

Matteo’s smirk widened, "Didn’t mean it? Damn, Ripple, you’re breaking my heart."

Everyone except Ripple chucked who was still holding hope that he could get through this conversation alive.

Blaise chimed in, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "So, what then? You’re just naturally an idiot? You’re telling me Wynn Cromwell tampered with your papers, charmed you, sat back, and had a good fucking laugh while you proclaimed your undying love, and you couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it? What are you, a wizard, or just a shit Muggle in disguise?"

Ripple stammered, unable to form a coherent reply. In truth, he hadn’t even realized his papers had been charmed. The fact that you had pulled this off without him noticing made him question whether he was truly terrible at magic or if your abilities far exceeded what any sixth-year should possess.

"No offense, Ripple," Matteo leaned casually against the window, the smile on his lips a stark contrast to the cold stare he aimed at the shrinking Hufflepuff. "But if I hear you say shit like that again, I’ll make sure you’re eating through a straw for the rest of the year."

A quivering sigh escaped Harrison Ripple's mouth "You know I didn’t mean it. Whatever Cromwell did it..it caught me off gaurd. I never expected her to do such a thing in the first place"

Matteo patted his shoulder in consolation though it was hardly genuine. "I know. That’s why I’m letting it slide this time, but fucking hell,…" He trailed off with a laugh, turning to glance at the others, who were all watching with predatory interest. "You’re pathetic."

The fists of the young hufflepuff's only tightened in response, jaw gritted so tight, he knew his tooth would ache later on. But each cruel remark from the unforgiving syletherin elite only kept getting worse.

“You know what I find fascinating"? Theo spoke up, his low baritone voice sharp "How someone so insignificant can manage to fuck up so royally. You’re like a bad joke that just keeps getting worse.”

Ripple’s emotions flickered to momentary fury, jaws clenched because he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut, knowing better than to show defiance in front of the Slytherins.

Theo’s eyes gleamed as he read Ripple's anger like an open book and his lips curved at the sight as he continued, “I half-expected you to drop to your knees and beg for a kiss"

Ripple let out an involuntary huff of disbelief, but before he could register what was happening, Theo stepped forward, his hand gripping the back of Ripple’s neck like a vice. With a low, mocking chuckle, Theo leaned in closer, his breath hot against Ripple’s ear. “Maybe you still will. What do you think? Want to plant one on Riddle before he puts you in the hospital wing?”

With a sudden, forceful shove, Theo pushed Ripple forward, sending him stumbling into Matteo. The Hufflepuff barely caught himself, his hands flailing as he struggled not to fall. Matteo, for his part, didn’t bother to move, watching Ripple’s pathetic attempts to steady himself with cold indifference.

The group erupted into laughter.

“This isn’t funny!” Ripple’s voice cracked with desperation as he tried to regain some control. “I made a mistake, okay? I get it! But I’m the Hufflepuff Quidditch team captain, damn it! Hufflepuff's finest! How many times do I have to say I didn’t mean a single fucking thing?”

The outburst hung in the air, the silence thick and suffocating.

Every second that stretched only seemed to raise Ripple's blood pressure when Matteo finally broke it “Look at that, Ripple’s finally growing a backbone."

"It’s because you guys treat me like shit," Ripple finally blurted out, unable to hold it in any longer. To his surprise, Matteo just snorted, unfazed. "Well, can’t argue with that.Every time you open your mouth, it’s like watching a train wreck. You make it too damn easy."

Ripple watched Matteo light up a cigarette, the smoke curling lazily around his fingers, that same infuriating grin still playing on his lips. It didn’t matter if he could whip out his wand and hex every one of these arrogant bastards; he still wouldn’t be taken seriously.

Matteo exhaled a stream of smoke, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto his quivering form. “You know, my father always said there’s nothing more pathetic than a wizard who doesn’t know his place. And now, looking at you, I finally understand what he meant.”

The words hung in the air, colder and sharper than the stone walls around them.

Every scrutinizing gaze was silent but said a thousand words that Ripple's pride just couldn't swallow. It was as if their eyes were stripping him of every last shred of dignity, leaving him exposed and vulnerable.

He had been willing to endure their torment, but even a cornered animal only takes so much before it lashes out.

"I want the cup," Ripple’s voice rang out, cutting through the oppressive silence like a blade.

The group's reaction was instant—a brief flicker of surprise, quickly replaced by simmering anger.

Blaise’s expression darkened as he stepped closer to Ripple. "You know that's not going to happen."

"But- You all said-"

"You’re asking for the impossible," Theo interjected "We can’t just hand over the Cup. The rest of Slytherin would never go along with it. You’d have the entire house against you—and us."

The arrogance of their tone has sent Ripple's thoughts into a mess of fury. I don’t give a shit, was all he could think, feeling the anger tighten in his chest.

If they wanted to go to the Map Chamber so badly, then they’d have to pay the price. Besides, there's nothing he would like to see more then the ridicule they will face after Hufflepuff gets the cup, they deserve whatever they have coming from their shitty parents anyway.

"I want the Cup. You want the location of the Map Chamber. It’s that simple." Ripple persisted.

"It’s not that simple, and you’re fucking delusional if you think it is," Enzo snapped, frustration flaring in his voice. "You really believe we can just tell the team to throw the match? Do you even understand what would happen? Forget Wynn running her mouth to Hufflepuff—the whole fucking school would know.

"That’s your problem, not mine".

He was done playing their games. They were the Slytherin elite, after all—if anyone could figure out how to pull this off without getting their hands dirty, it was them.

Ripple shook his head again, straightening his back, trying to muster the last bit of defiance he had left. "No. Either you give me that fucking cup, or no location—"

Before he could finish, Matteo lunged forward, the rage a living thing that contorted his features into something almost feral. He slammed Ripple back against the wall with a force that rattled the stone, his face inches from Ripple’s, eyes blazing with fury.

"You fucking prick," Matteo hissed, his voice low and venomous. "Finally had enough, have you? Grown a pair overnight?"

Ripple gasped, his breath caught as Matteo’s hand tightened around his throat. Panic surged through him as he struggled to breathe, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

"Maybe you’ve forgotten," Matteo’s voice dropped even lower, a dangerous edge to it, "but you’re easier to read than a fucking children’s book."

It was then that Ripple’s eyes widened with the horrifying realization—Matteo had been inside his head, sifting through his thoughts like a predator playing with its prey.

Fuck.

Matteo Riddle was a Legilimens.

"Wait—w-wait!" Ripple stammered, his voice trembling as he desperately tried to backpedal. "I was just angry, alright? I didn’t mean any of it!"

Theo chuckled darkly from behind Matteo, his tone laced with cruel amusement. "Oh, this should be good. Care to share, Matteo? I’d love to hear what our dear Ripple really thinks of us."

Matteo’s grin was cold, devoid of any real humor, as he tilted his head, never breaking eye contact with Ripple. "Oh, he’s just thinking how fucking delightful it would be to see us humiliated. To watch us lose to Hufflepuff and get what we deserve from our ‘shitty parents,’ as he so eloquently put it."

Ripple’s face drained of color as Matteo recounted his thoughts, his entire body trembling under the weight of his fear.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Blaise smirked, his expression dripping with mock sympathy. "Cheers mate, that might be the single most amusing thing that has ever escaped your thoughts, I am sure you who's Riddle 'shitty parent' is right"?

The look on the Hufflepuff's face looked like one of death at the realization.

Enzo sighed " You’re even more of an idiot than I thought."

Matteo leaned in closer, "Here’s the thing, Ripple—I don’t give a shit about your threats. You’re a pawn in a game you don’t even understand, and I’m done playing nice."

Matteo took a deliberate step back, letting Ripple slump against the wall as he gasped for breath. Th hufflepuff watched with panciked eyes as Matteo took another hit of his cigarette the smoke curling around him like a serpent.

"You know," he began, his voice casual, almost conversational, "my father’s always been a shitty parent. Never did get the hang of that whole 'loving father' thing. But torturing people? Now that's a skill he's mastered".

Ripple’s eyes widened in horror, his face going pale as he struggled to find his voice.

"You’re really fucking unlucky, you know that?" Matteo continued, his voice dripping with sadistic amusement. "Because if my old man hears about what’s been running through that tiny brain of yours, he’s gonna have a field day. You think we’re bad? You haven’t seen shit yet."

Ripple’s breath hitched, his hands shaking as he tried to stammer out a reply, but Matteo cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"Here’s the thing," Matteo leaned in close, his voice a menacing whisper. "You’ve been withholding information. My father doesn’t like it when people keep secrets from him. And when he finds out you’ve been playing us, he’s not gonna just let it slide. No, he’s gonna make you scream until your fucking throat bleeds."

"And let’s not forget Aunt Bella" Theo added casually

"She loves to get her hands dirty. She’ll carve you up, leave nothing but a bloody heap where you once stood. Marking her toys is her favorite game. A permanent reminder of your stupidity." Theo added with a chilling smile, watching the boy’s face pale as though he hadn’t nearly pissed his trousers at the thought

Matteo took another hit and crouched down, leveling with Ripple before blowing a stream of smoke into his face ""You ever heard of the Cruciatus Curse? That’s my dad's go to. He’ll break you. Piece by fucking piece. And he won’t stop until you’re begging for death. Problem is, he doesn’t like giving people what they want."

Matteo’s tone shifted, becoming almost conversational again, which somehow made it even more terrifying. "And the best part? He’ll keep you alive, just to see how long it takes before your mind snaps. Every. Single. Detail. That’s what he’ll want. He’ll want to know every little thought that crossed your mind while you were fucking us over."

Ripple’s entire body was trembling now, the sheer terror of what was being described overwhelming him. His mind raced with images of unimaginable pain, of being tortured until there was nothing left but a hollow shell of who he once was.

"Are you curious, Hufflepuff?" Matteo’s voice dripped with malice, "What it’s like to live with ‘shitty parents’? Say the word. Go on, because it's just one letter away." His eyes were cold, revealing the weight of a history filled with cruelty and violence, a glimpse into a world anyone let alone the Hufflepuff could hardly imagine surviving.

Ripple’s resolve crumbled, the fight draining out of him as shook his head, voice desperate and heavy fighting back sobs. "Please... please, I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything, just don’t let him... don’t let him do that to me!"

The Slytherins exchanged satisfied glances, their cruel smiles widening as they watched Ripple grovel at their feet.

Matteo leaned down his voice a soft, sinister whisper. "Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Start talking. And make it quick. We’ve wasted enough time on you already."

Ripple’s hands shook violently as he struggled to speak, his voice barely a whisper. "The map... it’s in the library, hidden in the Restricted Section. I... I can show you."

The tension was suddenly broken by the distant sound of footsteps. The sharp click of heels on stone grew louder, and before they could react, Professor Snape emerged from around the corner, his cold, calculating eyes narrowing as he took in the scene before him.

"Riddle," Snape’s voice was like ice, cutting through the air. "What exactly is going on here?"

In an instant, Matteo’s expression shifted, the darkness in his eyes replaced by an easygoing facade. He loosened his grip on Ripple, stepping back as if nothing had happened. The rest of the group followed suit, straightening up and adopting similarly nonchalant postures.

"Professor Snape," Matteo greeted smoothly, his tone laced with a hint of false cheer. "We were just… cheering Harrison up. He’s been a bit down lately, and we thought we’d lift his spirits."

Draco, Theo, Enzo, and Blaise all nodded in agreement, each of them putting on a convincing show of innocent concern.

Snape’s eyes flicked over each of them, his expression unreadable. He knew exactly what was going on—the tension in the air, the way Harrison Ripple was trembling, Matteo’s calm menace—it all painted a clear picture. But Snape had his own precarious role to play, one that required him to tread carefully between two worlds.

He was a man trapped by his own double life, forced to watch as students like Ripple became pawns in a game far beyond their comprehension.

"Is that so?" Snape drawled, his voice heavy with unspoken tension. His gaze shifted to Ripple, who looked as though he might collapse under the pressure. "I suggest you all return to your common rooms before I decide to take points from Slytherin for loitering in the corridors."

Draco nodded, his expression equally composed. "We’ll make sure Ripple gets back safely," he added, his voice dripping with insincerity.

Snape’s gaze lingered on Matteo for a moment longer, as if silently warning him to tread carefully, before he finally turned away.

"See that you do," he said curtly, his robes billowing as he walked away, leaving the group alone once more.

As soon as Snape was out of earshot, Matteo’s smile faded, replaced by the menacing glare that had Ripple shrinking back against the wall again. "Library, this Friday, 10 pm"

Ripple hesitated to say his next words but said it anyway "But that's after curfew..."

Matteo smirked, "Is that a problem"?

"No… no problem," Ripple finally managed to choke out, his voice barely above a whisper.

Matteo straightened up, satisfied with Ripple’s submission. "Good," he said coldly, turning away without another word. The rest of the Slytherins followed, their eyes still gleaming with dark amusement as they left Ripple standing alone, dread settling in the pit of his stomach.

As the sound of their footsteps faded, Ripple hands rand through his hair, fisting them in frustration

What did he get himself into? Whatever it was, forget the cup, because if Matteo father is involved, there was no hope of winning.

******************************

You walked through the dimly lit halls, speeding your way through countless stray if students.

You were late—and not just five minutes late, but ten, and it was to Snape's class, of all things.

What possessed you to take a "quick" nap in the library when you were already sleep-deprived was beyond you.

Breathless, you took the stairs two at a time, cursing under your breath as the classroom door came into view.

You could see everyone already seated at their tables, the room eerily quiet.

Now Snape was bound to notice you.

Taking a deep breath at the top of the stairs, you fought to steady your breathing and not look like you were about to collapse from the jog.

Trying to remain as normal as possible, you held that composure with great difficulty and walked in, making a beeline for the closest table.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you quietly set your things down, biting your lip to suppress the breaths that needed to escape.

Some students turned around, watching you with curious eyes as you settled in as quietly as you could

After a few moments, you let out a sigh when suddenly Snape monotone voice echoed through the classroom "Ms. Cromwell, 5 points from Hufflepuff".

'Fuck' you mouthed, slumping in your seat as some Hufflepuffs looked your way with annoyance.

As the class began, the soft clink of glass and bubbling potions filled the room. Everyone was partnered up, diligently working on their Draught of Peace, while you sat alone at the back of the class. You didn’t mind, though. You preferred the quiet, free from distractions, and you knew how to brew this potion without help.

You didn’t have many friends besides Hermione and Ginny, neither of whom shared your schedule. And the few Hufflepuff mates you did get along with weren’t in this class either. No matter—you opened your textbook and began preparing your ingredients, content in the solitude.

But just as you were about to slice the moonstone, a familiar voice cut through your concentration.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite honey badger.”

You looked up, spotting Matteo lounging with Theo and Enzo, his usual smirk playing on his lips as he sat at the table besides you.

"Is that so? Your sure it isn't Ripple"?

Matteo shook his head "No, no. He's my second my favorite".

You let out a small laugh "Better keep that to yourself Riddle, otherwise you'll break his heart".

"Only heart your breaking is mine Cromwell sitting by yourself like that" Matteo feigned worry but you only rolled your eyes, actually a tad amused by his presence.

"Good. There's nothing that fills my day with joy then hearing that sentiment" You pulled the black hair tie from your wrist before pulling your raven hair up to tie back into a pony tail, eyes now concentrating on the ingredient in front of you.

Matteo went quiet, his gaze lingering longer than it should have.

His eyes lazily roamed you, coming up to your exposed neck as you shook your head, securing the hair into place.

Pretty.

Matteo noticed these things a long time ago, but never in detail before. The small moles that speckled your neck to the freckles sprayed across the bridge of your nose. All adorned by your jet black hair framing your soft features. It was all more noticeable today.

You shrugged off your robes, rolling up the sleeves of your crisp white shirt. The movement was casual, but Matteo’s Adam’s apple bobbed as his throat tightened, his eyes tracing the lines of your neck and chest.

You had always worn loose clothing so he never paid much mind to your figure, but when you had sat back down on the bench not paying attention, the skirt rode up thighs revealing the soft fat of your skin squished against the bench.

Fucking hell...why was it always the quiet ones..

His lids lowered, focus sharpening at the edge of your skirt. An inch further and his eyes would have seen the color of the undergarment you chose to wear today.

His breath hitched slightly—just for a moment—before he caught himself, a small grin returning to his lips as he leaned back, watching you with a new, curious intensity.

Meanwhile, your hands shook as you struggled to cut the stubborn blue moonstone, its dust scattering haphazardly around the cauldron. The rough, sharp edges of the stone glinted dangerously under the dim light, threatening to slice your fingers if you weren’t careful. But the dull knife you’d grabbed from the last pile of equipment didn’t help matters. Just your luck.

The cauldron in front of you hissed angrily, bubbling higher than it should, reminding you it needed the other ingredients fast, or this potion would be beyond saving.

With a frustrated huff, you tried to maintain focus, wondering why today, of all days, was spiraling like this. Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps nearing your table. You looked up to see none other than Professor Snape, looming ominously over your cauldron like a dark cloud. Disapproval gleamed in his eyes, and the frown etched on his face deepened with every second he looked at your failed attempts.

"Any day now, Ms. Cromwell," Snape's cold voice cut through the silence, making you fumble with the knife.

You swallowed and quickly returned to the task, trying to scrape the moonstone with as much force as you could muster. The dust flew everywhere, scattering like powdered snow, but you were determined to make it work. The frustration burned hotter in your chest with each passing moment.

A sigh of exasperation escaped the professor, and you could feel his disapproval grow heavier. You looked up sheepishly, still struggling with the moonstone, desperately trying to convey that you were at least trying.

"I—I’m sorry, Professor. The knife is just so dull—"

"No, Ms. Cromwell. That is not the issue," Snape’s voice was biting.

Red tinged your cheeks at the insinuation of his words that your were just utterly weak and grip strength was trash.

"Riddle" Snape snapped.

"Riddle!"

Your eyes widened, flicking behind Snape to where Matteo sat, lounging lazily in his chair, his potion already finished. Of course, it was.

"Pair up with Ms. Cromwell," Snape instructed, his voice sharp and impatient. "Perhaps she’ll find some competence under your guidance."

He sighed, getting up from his chair replying, "Sure, Professor."

His eyes found yours, and the subtle smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips sent another wave of heat to your face. You quickly looked away, leaning back in your chair and setting the moonstone down with more force than necessary.

As he reached your table, he leaned over your shoulder, his gaze boring into the half-finished potion with cool indifference.

"Did you plan on finishing this today?" he asked, his voice low, teasing, as his breath ghosted over your ear.

You groaned quietly in response, leaning back just a bit too far, and your back brushed against his chest. You quickly straightened up, trying to ignore the way his eyes trailed over the side of your face, almost too close for comfort.

"The knife is dull," you stated.

Matteo snorted, amusement lacing his tone. "Really? Let me see."

Without waiting for your reply, he slid into the seat next to you, effortlessly grabbing the moonstone. With a single, swift motion of the knife, a fistful of moonstone dust fell cleanly into the cauldron. He made it look disgustingly easy.

"You were saying" Matteo teased with grin.

You sighed, irritated but keep quiet as the two of you began to work.

A few minutes pass by and you notice Matteo had moved on to the next part of the potion with infuriating ease. He worked diligently, cutting ingredients with precision, measuring them carefully before adding them to the cauldron. His movements were fluid and confident, and it was clear he knew exactly what he was doing.

Your eyes flickered to the knife he’d set down.

Stupid knife. You thought.

Silently, you picked it up, turning it over in your hand, inspecting it as if it were the culprit for all your troubles.

Matteo eyes now pinned on you, watching you turn the knife over in your hands, feeling the edges. He raised a brow wondering what your doing when you suddenly started glaring at the blade like it had personally betrayed you.

"Pft-haha"

You attention now snapped to him chuckling and shaking his head.

"What"? You asked.

"Are you seriously blaming the knife, Cromwell? That’s adorable."

You blinked, momentarily thrown off. "Wha—It is the knife! I mean, look at it!" You pointed at the dull blade. "The edges are completely blunt, the handle has no grip, and I can’t even remember the last time someone polished this ancient relic—"

Matteo's grin only widened, amusement gleaming in his eyes as he leaned casually back in his chair, watching you with a soft, almost playful look. There was something different about you when you weren’t constantly on guard—a flicker of something softer beneath that fiery exterior. He took note of the way your face scrunched up when you were upset, almost like an irritated bunny trying to be tough.

You paused mid-ramble, catching the look on his face. Your shoulders slumped, and you let out a defeated sigh. "Okay, you know what? Let's just focus on finishing the potion."

"Oh, believe me, I’m focused." Matteo smirked. "But it’s hard to concentrate when you’ve got moonstone dust all over your face."

You gasped, your hands immediately flying to your face. "Where?" you started swiping at your cheeks, but only ended up sending the dust flying everywhere.

Matteo chuckled again, this time reaching out to brush the bridge of your nose with his thumb, wiping away the last of the dust. Your nose scrunched at the sensation, and Matteo found himself momentarily distracted by how cute you looked, even if you were a mess. He ignored the quickening pulse that beat against his chest.

"Thanks," you muttered, blushing slightly before returning your focus to the potion.

He hummed in response and began working again.

As you filled the cauldron with more water, Matteo chopped up more moonstone, dropping it in with perfect timing.

You began to stir the mixture, trying desperately to focus on the task at hand, but his presence beside you was distracting—too close, too intense. The air between you felt charged, each breath you took slightly more ragged as you tried to keep your composure.

Then, without warning, Matteo leaned in even closer, his cheek grazing yours, the warmth of his skin sending a jolt through your body.

"Here," he whispered, his voice a low, smooth murmur that made your heart skip a beat. A shiver ran down your spine, uncontrollable and far too obvious. "You’re not stirring it right."

Before you could react, his hand slid over yours, firm but deliberate, taking control of the spoon and shifting the direction of your movements. His fingers wrapped around yours, guiding the spoon smoothly through the thick liquid. "Counterclockwise for this draught. Always."

You nodded stiffly, your throat dry, and you could practically feel the smirk tugging at the corners of his lips before he finally pulled back, his hand lingering for just a second too long before retreating.

"Good," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin before he leaned away, leaving you to wrestle with the lingering heat that spread through your body.

A few more minutes pass by and you notice the color of the cauldron.

What kind of color is that?

You glanced at Matteo and see him measuring out unicorn powder, with powdered porcupine quills and syrup of hellebore sitting besides him in cups.

A creeping dread filled you as you realized something was wrong.

Your eyes darted to your notes, flipping quickly through the pages of your book. Then to Matteo’s textbook. Your heart sank.

Shit

You had been following the wrong recipe.

The realization hit you all at once.

Matteo was focused on the cauldron, his brow furrowed slightly in confusion as he observed the unexpected color change in the potion. He glanced down at his notes, then back at the cauldron, clearly sensing something was off.

Maybe, just maybe, there was a way to salvage this before class was over.

You quickly gathered more ingredients, trying to stay calm, and brought them back to the table. Matteo’s eyes flicked to you, clearly confused. "Hold on," he said, "why are you bringing more unicorn powder? We can’t add any more."

You licked your lips, trying to think fast. "Well... are you sure you added the right amount?"

Matteo raised an eyebrow, studying your face with suspicion. Before he could reply, the cauldron in front of you hissed ominously, a small plume of steam rising from the bubbling liquid inside. Your stomach dropped.

The mixture began splashing against the rim of the cauldron, hissing louder by the second.

You cursed under your breath, panic clawing at your chest as you watched the potion teeter on the edge of disaster.

Matteo’s head snapped up at the sound, his eyes narrowing. "What the hell did you do?" His voice was sharp as he leaned over your shoulder to inspect the potion.

"I—I don’t know!" you stammered, panic flooding your voice. "Something’s wrong!"

"Shit!" Matteo cursed, his hand grabbing your shoulder as the cauldron sputtered. Hot liquid shot out, narrowly missing his face.

"This thing’s about to blow"

Quickly, he grabbed you by the wrist and yanked you to the other side of the room. You stumbled after him, trying to keep up, but in your frantic escape, your shoe lace snagged on the edge of the table. With a startled yelp, you tripped, crashing into Matteo and sending the both of you sprawling onto the floor.

Matteo’s breath left him in a sharp grunt as you collided with him, sending both of you sprawling to the ground. Your face hovered just inches from his, eyes wide with surprise as the cauldron behind you erupted with a deafening bang.

Hot liquid shot across the room, splattering against the walls and tables as students ducked, chairs scraping the floor in their haste to avoid the explosion. The thick, pungent stench of burnt ingredients filled the air, mixing with the billowing clouds of steam that obscured your vision.

For a brief, chaotic moment, the room was nothing but smoke and confusion.

When the dust finally began to settle, the scene shifted into sharp focus. Matteo lay flat on his back, his chest rising and falling beneath you. One arm was draped instinctively over your waist, fingers gripping lightly as though to keep you steady. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, jaw clenched, a look of utter disbelief etched into his features.

You, meanwhile, were sprawled across his chest, blinking in stunned silence, trying to process the sheer absurdity of what had just happened. Your hands, still braced against his shoulders, trembled slightly, the heat of the near-explosion lingering in the air around you.

You let out the breath you were holding when Snape’s icy voice cut through the chaos like a knife. "What in Merlin’s name is going on here?!"

You quickly scrambled off Matteo, your face flushed with embarrassment. Matteo, still lying there, smirked lazily as he got up, brushing himself off. "Well, that was one way to blow up a class," he muttered under his breath.

The room was dead silent, save for the dripping of the ruined potion as it slid down the walls. The other students, who had taken cover during the explosion, peeked out from behind their desks, eyes wide in a mix of amusement and fear as they waited for Snape’s inevitable wrath.

Snape’s gaze, however, was laser-focused on the two of you. His black robes billowed ominously as he stalked over, his face a mask of fury. He took one look at the state of the classroom—the scorched walls, the overturned cauldron, the puddles of ruined potion—and his expression darkened even further.

"Ms. Cromwell, Mr. Riddle," he hissed, each word sharp and clipped. "Detention. Both of you."

Your stomach dropped as his words sank in. You could feel your fellow students’ stares burning into the back of your head. Snape’s displeasure was one thing, but the thought of detention with Matteo? That was something else entirely.

"Sir—" you started, but Snape’s cold glare silenced you instantly.

"Save your excuses, Cromwell," he snapped. "I’m not interested in hearing them."

Then, his gaze shifted to Matteo, "Mr. Riddle," Snape’s voice dropped to a dangerously low register, "I expected better from my best student. Perhaps I was mistaken in assuming you were above this... childish behavior."

Matteo’s amusment from earlier faded, his expression tightening as Snape’s words hung in the air.

Snape, having made his point, straightened up, his voice sharp and unforgiving. "Both of you will stay behind after class to clean up this disaster you've created. And I expect it to be spotless. Fail, and you’ll both be scrubbing cauldrons for the rest of the term."

He turned on his heel, robes billowing as he stalked back to his desk, leaving the room in a tense, heavy silence. The rest of the class cast nervous glances in your direction, but no one dared to say a word.

You let out a shaky breath, your pulse still hammering in your ears. Matteo, however, remained disturbingly quiet, his expression unreadable.

Okay, You definitely owed him an apology.

Sucking in a breath you spoke "Matteo"

His lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smirk, his gaze flickering back to meet yours, "Try not blow up anything else before detention. See you after class, Cromwell," he mocked

You jaw hung, but your were wordless, watching him causally brush himself down and walk out of the classroom, with Enzo and Theo following suit.

For some reason the thought of being alone with the Matteo Riddle in room for hours had sent your stomach doing flips, causing a wave nausea.

Whatever awaited you, one thing was certain: you weren’t just cleaning up a mess. You were walking straight into one.

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