Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Theodore had told them nothing.

Just “Come to the estate. Dress decent. Try not to break anything.”

The Nott Manor loomed tall and cold under the grey sky as Mattheo Riddle, Draco Malfoy, Lorenzo Beckshire, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, and Astoria Greengrass arrived one by one, all equally curious — and slightly concerned.

“I feel like we’re being summoned,” Lorenzo muttered, adjusting his coat. “Is this an ambush?”

“If it is, I’m flattered he thinks we’re dangerous enough to need all of us,” Blaise smirked, hands in his pockets.

They were led by a sharp-faced house elf through marbled hallways, and into the grand sitting room where Theodore was waiting by the fireplace — not alone.

Next to him stood a girl. Not more than fifteen. Delicate features, sharp green eyes, her hands clasped nervously in front of her. Her posture was perfect, but her gaze darted quickly between everyone like she was preparing to bolt.

“Everyone,” Theodore said with a voice a bit too calm, “this is my sister. Y/N.”

Dead. Silence.

Draco blinked. “Your what?”

Y/N offered a small, polite nod. “Hello.”

Pansy’s eyes went wide. “You never said you had a sister, Theo!”

“I never said I didn’t,” he replied smoothly.

Mattheo stared, suspicious. “Is she enchanted or something? This feels like a trap.”

Y/N, despite herself, let out a small laugh — and everyone turned to stare.

Theo shot her a sideways look. “She laughs now. Just wait till she hexes you for breathing too loud.”

“I don’t—” Y/N started, then stopped, blushing furiously.

Astoria, ever the composed queen, stepped forward first. “It’s lovely to meet you, Y/N. Don’t mind the rest of them, they’re...”

“Idiots,” Pansy offered helpfully, plopping onto the velvet couch beside Blaise, who winked at Y/N, causing her to look away quickly.

“She’s shy,” Theo said, almost warningly. “And if anyone even thinks about flirting—”

Mattheo raised both hands innocently. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Look at her — she’s terrified of us.”

“I’m not terrified,” Y/N muttered, eyes narrowing a little.

Theo smirked. “There she is.”

Draco, watching the whole thing unfold with amusement, leaned back against the fireplace. “Well then. This should be interesting.”

Chapter Text

The Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade under a cloudy sky, and for once, the Slytherin squad wasn’t causing a scene.

They were watching someone else do it.

Y/N Nott stepped off the train in full Hogwarts robes — black with a rich green lining, her prefect-style posture giving off quiet authority. Theo walked ahead like nothing was different, but the rest of the group stayed close, protective... curious.

"She’s already making people stare," Pansy whispered with a smirk.

"Because she looks like trouble," Blaise replied.

"Because she looks like a Nott," Draco corrected. “And no one knew there was another one.”

Students whispered as they passed, eyes trailing after Y/N like she was a ghost come to life. Word had spread fast: Theodore Nott has a sister. A Beauxbatons transfer. And she’s in Slytherin.

By the time they reached the castle, students from other houses were sneaking glances.

“Think she’s like him?” a Gryffindor muttered.
“She talks, so... probably not,” a Hufflepuff replied.
“She’s prettier than I thought a Nott would be,” said a smug Ravenclaw.
Mattheo heard that one and turned around so fast the boy nearly tripped.

“Say that again, slowly,” he said, voice low.

The boy scurried away.

Theo muttered, “This is why I didn’t tell anyone.”

---

When Y/N entered the Great Hall for the first time, it was like a scene out of a play. The floating candles flickered. The whispers multiplied. Even some professors leaned toward each other with raised brows.

McGonagall met her at the entrance. “Miss Nott. Welcome.”

Y/N nodded politely. “Thank you, Professor.”

“Given your year and House… you’ll sit with Slytherin.” She paused. “And I expect you to remember that you are new to this castle, regardless of your family’s history here.”

Y/N nodded again, more confidently. “Understood.”

She walked toward the Slytherin table — slow, deliberate steps — and slid into a seat between Astoria and Mattheo. Theo, across from her, looked deeply unamused.

The Sorting Hat, from its perch, gave an audible hum.

“A Nott... again. What fun.”

Dinner was chaos — students trying to eavesdrop, whispers flying across the tables.

“She’s quiet,” Astoria noted softly. “But watch her. She’s thinking everything through.”

“She’ll have to,” Pansy added, “if she wants to survive us.”

At the end of the night, Dumbledore gave his usual speech, and students rose to leave. As the group walked toward the dungeons, Y/N felt the shift — the attention, the weight, the possibilities.

Mattheo slowed his steps beside her. “So, Y/N... ready?”

She glanced up at him, eyes sharp as glass.

“As I'll ever be.”

Chapter Text

A Slytherin seventh-year — Malcolm Avery — had made a snide remark about Beauxbatons students during break between classes. Something about “wand-waving fairy girls with lace for spines.”

It wasn’t directed at Y/N, not really. But it was loud enough to be heard.

Y/N didn’t say anything. She just closed her book, stood, and walked away.

A few feet down the corridor, Theo fell into step beside her, expression unreadable.

They didn’t talk strategy. Didn’t make a scene. They just looked at each other — and that was enough.

---

Later that week, in Defense Against the Dark Arts, the professor decided on practical dueling exercises.

Malcolm Avery smirked when he was paired with Y/N.

“Oh, come on,” he said, wand already raised. “This won’t take a second.”

Y/N didn’t react. She just bowed, precisely. Then lifted her wand.

Avery struck first — fast, messy spells meant to overwhelm. Y/N dodged with fluid, practiced grace. No wasted movement. Not flashy. Just clean.

Then she flicked her wand once.

A silent, fast-moving hex hit Avery square in the chest — sending him flying back, skidding across the dueling platform with a shocked grunt.

Gasps. Laughter. Even the professor blinked.

Y/N lowered her wand, unbothered.

From the back of the room, Theo smirked.

---

That night, in the common room, gossip was already flying.

“So,” Pansy said, sipping her drink. “That was brutal.”

“She didn’t even say anything,” Lorenzo added, impressed. “She just flattened him.”

Mattheo laughed. “She fights like Theo. Quiet. Terrifying.”

Astoria, reading nearby, didn’t even look up. “Told you not to underestimate her.”

At the far end of the room, Y/N sat beside Theo on one of the low sofas, playing an intense wizarding chess party. He handed her a chocolate frog without a word.

“You didn’t have to do anything,” she said.

“You had it handled,” he said, then paused. “But if he’d touched you, I’d have hexed him through the ceiling.”

She smiled faintly. “I know.”

They didn’t say anything else for a while. They didn’t need to.

They wrap up their game, Theodore won this time. Y/N whined quietly, but deep down it's admiration and determination that settled when watching her big brother.

And somewhere in that quiet, the rest of the House realized — it wasn’t that Theo and Y/N made a lot of noise. They didn’t need to.

They made a pair.

And if they ever turned on you?
Well.

You’d never see it coming.

Chapter Text

The trio found themselves alone in the library — a rare quiet evening. Y/N was tucked between the stacks, flipping through a thick Transfiguration textbook. Theo sat across from her, organizing notes with his usual precision.

Mattheo?

Mattheo was leaning sideways in his chair, spinning his wand between his fingers and staring.

At Y/N.

“Why,” Theo said flatly without looking up, “are you watching my sister like you’re planning a heist?”

Mattheo grinned, unfazed. “Just admiring the newest Nott. She’s very focused. It’s endearing.”

Y/N didn’t look up. “You’re very loud. It’s distracting.”

Mattheo put a hand to his chest. “She speaks! With venom, too. Merlin, I think I’m in love.”

Y/N blushes, Theo dropped his quill.

“Mattheo.”

Mattheo leaned across the table, eyes still on Y/N. “Tell me, Y/N. How did you turn out so elegant when your brother still eats toast like it’s trying to escape?”

Theo shot him a glare.

Y/N blinked slowly, regaining confidence. “Because I had to balance out the gene pool.”

Theo smirked.

Mattheo looked delighted. “She’s deadly. I like her.”

“You like getting hexed,” Theo muttered.

Y/N finally glanced up, gaze calm. “You’re wasting time.”

“Am I?” Mattheo said, grin widening. “Depends on what I’m aiming for.”

Theo stood. “Okay. You’re done.”

“Relax, mate.” Mattheo stood too, hands up. “I’m joking.”

“Joke less. Breathe less.”

Y/N snapped her book closed. “Both of you — shut up.”

They blinked. She walked past them with perfect grace, despite the turmoil she was experiencing inside, pausing only briefly beside Mattheo.

“Tease me again,” she said quietly, “and I’ll switch your shampoo with dye.”

Mattheo stared after her as she disappeared down the aisle, wide-eyed and… a little impressed.

Theo clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Told you.”

Mattheo whistled low. “I might actually be scared.”

Theo smiled. “Good.”

---

That night, the Slytherin girls’ dormitory was lit with floating candles and smelled faintly of mint and roses. The three of them — Pansy, Astoria, and Y/N — were sprawled across Astoria’s four-poster bed with blankets, chocolate frogs, and a bottle of “borrowed” butterbeer from the kitchens.

Pansy painted her nails with a casual flick of her wand. “Alright. Let’s talk boys.”

Y/N blinked. “Why?”

Pansy turned dramatically. “Because, darling, it’s what girls do during sacred Slytherin girls' nights.”

Astoria raised a brow. “Technically, we don’t have to. But she’s right — it is tradition.”

Y/N looked between them, unsure. “But… I don’t— I mean. I haven’t—”

“Oh my Merlin, you’re blushing already,” Pansy said, grinning. “This is going to be fun.”

“I’m not blushing.”

“You’re turning the same shade as a Gryffindor tie, love.”

Astoria gave Y/N a sympathetic smile. “We don’t bite. Well, Pansy might.”

“I flirt,” Pansy corrected. “Very different.”

Y/N tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t really… date at Beauxbatons.”

“You didn’t have to,” Pansy said. “You're gorgeous, and French. Boys probably just fainted when you passed.”

Y/N laughed, flustered. “No one fainted.”

“Alright,” Pansy said, sitting up, eyes glittering with mischief. “Serious question. If you had to pick someone at Hogwarts to kiss, who would it be?”

Y/N nearly choked on her butterbeer.

“I—what—why would I—?”

“Oh, come on,” Pansy groaned. “Astoria?”

Astoria smirked. “I already have Draco.”

“Yes, yes, and we’re all thrilled for you,” Pansy said with a wave. Then she turned back to Y/N. “Now you. Spill.”

Y/N covered her face. “This is evil.”

“That means you have someone in mind.”

“I don’t!”

Astoria tilted her head. “Not even a maybe?”

“…Maybe.”

Pansy gasped. “Who?!”

Y/N hesitated, then mumbled, “No one you’d guess.”

That only made it worse.

“Lorenzo?”
“No.”
“Draco?”
“Merlin, no.”
“…Mattheo?”

Y/N's face went bright red.

Pansy shrieked. “OH. MY. GOD.”

“I said maybe!”

Astoria’s eyes widened. “That’s… bold.”

“He’s my brother’s best friend,” Y/N groaned, burying her face in a pillow. “Theo would kill me.”

Pansy looked delighted. “Theo would kill him, and it would be hilarious.”

Y/N peeked out, eyes wide. “Do you think he knows?”

“Mattheo? Oh, absolutely,” Astoria said calmly. “He notices everything.”

Pansy leaned in with a wicked grin. “And trust me, darling — that boy flirts when he’s interested.”

Y/N looked like she might melt into the mattress.

The girls burst into laughter, and the teasing rolled on for hours. But later that night, as they all drifted off to sleep, Y/N lay wide awake, staring at the canopy.

Thinking about a certain smirking boy with messy curls and trouble in his smile.

And wondering if he really knew.

Chapter Text

After her first week at Hogwarts, something unspoken formed among the group. It started with Theodore, obviously. He didn’t need to say much. Just one look across the common room when he saw a Ravenclaw boy try to sit beside Y/N in the library, and that poor boy vanished for the rest of the day.

Then there was Mattheo — smug, flirty Mattheo — who may joke about Theo’s protectiveness, but if any guy so much as looked too long at Y/N?

“Oh, her? Yeah, no — out of your league, mate.”
Or: “You trying to die? Just ask Theo, he’s already planned the funeral.”
Or his personal favorite, said with a slow smirk: “Try it. I dare you.”

He was the chaotic gatekeeper.

Draco got involved out of sheer principle. “She’s a Nott,” he said simply, as if that explained everything. (To him, it did.)

Blaise just raised an eyebrow at anyone who even seemed interested, making them feel like they’d already failed some impossible social test. “Bold of you to assume you’d survive that.”

And the girls?

Oh, the girls were ruthless in their own way.

Astoria had perfected the subtle freeze — a single glance that turned a hopeful fifth year into stone. Pansy? She was more hands-on.

“She doesn’t need you, darling,” she once told a Hufflepuff with a too-eager smile. “She’s got brains, style, and self-respect.”

“But I was just asking the time—”

“She knows it,” Pansy snapped. “Move along.”

---

And Y/N?

Y/N has no idea.

She just thinks Hogwarts boys are... oddly distant. Polite. Sometimes they wave and then immediately walk the other direction. Or stammer. Or drop things.

One even tripped over his own feet trying to flee the Potions corridor.

She mentioned it once at dinner.

“Do boys here not talk to girls?”

Mattheo choked on his pumpkin juice.

Theo looked mildly murderous.

Draco said, “They're intimidated.”

Pansy smiled sweetly. “As they should be.”

Astoria just gave her a knowing look. “You’re not like the rest of them, Y/N.”

Y/N blinked, confused.

But the truth was, her little inner circle had made a silent, collective pact: no one touches Y/N Nott unless they wanted to deal with them.

…Which would be fine, if Mattheo wasn’t slowly realizing he might be the exception he very much wasn’t supposed to be.

---

Theodore was reading in the common room, boots kicked up on the table, the fire crackling low beside him. Quiet. Peaceful.

Naturally, Mattheo ruined it.

He dropped onto the couch next to Theo with all the grace of a collapsing bookshelf. “So, your sister.”

Theo didn’t look up. “Don’t.”

“I was just saying—”

“Don’t say.”

Mattheo leaned in, grinning. “You can’t keep her hidden forever. She’s already infiltrated the girl squad. Pansy told me she gets flustered when I wink at her.”

The book shut.

Very slowly.

“Did you wink at her.”

Mattheo shrugged innocently. “I wink at everyone. It’s my thing.”

Theo turned to face him, deadpan. “Stop making your thing my problem.”

“That’s what best friends are for.”

They stared at each other.

Mattheo smirked.

Theo lunged.

A cushion flew. The table got kicked. Blaise, from across the room, sighed like a man who’d seen this too many times.

“You two good?” he asked, lazily flipping a page in his book.

“We’re great,” Mattheo grunted, currently pinned in a headlock. “This is how Theo shows he cares.”

“I don’t care.”

“You tackled me out of love.”

Theo rolled off him. “I tackled you because you talk too much.”

Mattheo sat up, grinning like a devil. “So when are you going to admit I’m your favorite?”

Theo threw a pillow at his face.

---

After a late-night quidditch practice, just the two of them left on the pitch. Sitting on the grass, sweat cooling under the stars. Theo is staring up at the sky, chewing the inside of his cheek.

Mattheo, for once, doesn’t poke.

“You good?”

Theo shrugs. “She’s adjusting. But I don’t know. It’s different here.”

Mattheo’s quiet for a beat. Then: “She’s doing better than any of us did first week.”

“I know,” Theo mutters. “Still.”

“You raised a little storm cloud,” Mattheo says, nudging his shoulder. “Be proud.”

Theo almost smiles. “She likes you, you know.”

Mattheo raises a brow. “You going to kill me if I do anything about that?”

Theo turns his head. “Is that a question?”

Mattheo smirks. “Was just asking.”

Silence.

Then they both lie back on the grass.

Comfortable. Safe. Brotherhood stitched in between the sarcasm and punches.

Because they don’t say “I love you.”

They say, “Shut up.”

They say, “Catch this hex.”

They say, “You look like shit, drink water.”

And that’s more than enough.

Chapter Text

It was one of those rare, perfect days at Hogwarts — breezy but warm, with clouds lazily drifting across the sky. The boys had Quidditch practice, and naturally, the girls claimed the best seats in the stands.

Astoria had her hair in a perfect braid and a book open on her lap (that she wasn’t reading), Pansy was in full “sports spectator meets fashion critic” mode, and Y/N sat between them, hugging her knees, slightly flushed.

“Why exactly are we here?” she asked, squinting up at the green blur of players flying overhead.

“To support Draco, of course,” Astoria said primly.

“And to admire the view,” Pansy added with a devilish grin, nodding toward the pitch. “You can’t tell me this isn’t worth it.”

Y/N followed her gaze just in time to see Mattheo Riddle zoom past, hair wind-blown, robes clinging just right, broom tilting effortlessly as he dove for the Quaffle. He tossed it behind his back to Theo with a smirk, then shot upward again like gravity was optional.

Y/N looked away quickly.

Pansy saw it.

“Ohhh my Merlin,” she whispered. “You’re so obvious.”

“I’m not!”

“Y/N,” Astoria said gently, “you’re chewing your lip and blushing like a third year.”

“I’m just watching.”

“You’re watching him.”

Y/N buried her face in her scarf. “He’s just... very loud.”

“He hasn’t even spoken in ten minutes,” Pansy said, gleeful.

Down on the pitch, Theo caught Mattheo's wild pass mid-air, then glanced up at the stands.

His eyes narrowed immediately.

Y/N looked away just in time, pretending to admire the goal hoops.

“Does he always look at people like that?” she mumbled.

“Only when he suspects Mattheo is thinking something stupid,” Astoria replied calmly.

“And Mattheo is always thinking something stupid,” Pansy added.

---

“Your sister’s watching,” Mattheo said as he coasted beside Theo, breathless.

“I know.”

“She’s got a good view of me today.”

Theo didn’t respond. Just gave him a long, long look.

Mattheo raised his hands. “Joking.”

Theo arched a brow. “You’re not that funny.”

“I’m hilarious, and she laughs at my jokes.”

“She’s polite.”

“She also blushed.”

Theo’s broom swerved dangerously close.

“I swear, Riddle—”

“Joking!” Mattheo said quickly, grinning like a fox. “Unless…”

Theo sped off before he could finish, muttering darkly under his breath.

---

Back in the stands :

“Do you think Theo suspects?” Y/N asked quietly.

Pansy gave her a sideways glance. “He knows.”

“Then why hasn’t he said anything?”

“Because if he says something, he has to admit Mattheo has a chance,” Astoria said smoothly. “And your brother is a champion denier.”

Y/N sighed.

Then she looked up, and — as if summoned — Mattheo was staring right at her from the air, one eyebrow raised, lips curled into that infuriating smirk.

Y/N blinked.
Looked away.

Pansy just laughed. “You’re doomed.”

---

The night started simple :

Theo, Mattheo, Draco, Blaise, and Lorenzo gathered in the Slytherin common room after curfew, throwing snacks on the table and conjuring a few bottles of firewhiskey (Blaise’s doing, obviously — Blaise always knew where to find good contraband).

“No girls allowed,” Mattheo said dramatically, flopping into a chair and throwing his feet up on the table.

Draco scoffed. “Like they’d want to be here anyway.”

“They’d only slow us down,” Lorenzo added, grinning.

“What exactly are we doing that needs speed?” Theo asked dryly, raising a brow.

Mattheo raised the bottle. “Drinking. Bragging. Maybe arm wrestling if we get drunk enough.”

Theo snorted, but didn’t argue.

---

The common room was full of lazy laughter and bad ideas.

Draco was dramatically retelling the story of the time he "definitely could have beaten Harry Potter in a duel if Snape hadn’t intervened" while Blaise and Lorenzo heckled him.

Mattheo? Already arm-wrestling Theo, both gritting their teeth as the table shook under their locked hands.

“I will break your wrist,” Theo muttered, not moving an inch.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Mattheo grinned.

Theo won, of course, slamming Mattheo’s hand into the table with a solid thud.

Mattheo sat back, flexing his fingers. “Bet Y/N could beat you.”

Theo glared at him. “Shut it.”

Blaise leaned forward lazily. “Speaking of Y/N…”

Mattheo grinned slowly.

Theo's expression darkened immediately. “Don’t start.”

“We’re just saying,” Draco drawled, enjoying himself far too much, “your little sister is very popular lately.”

Theo gave Mattheo a death-glare specifically tailored for best friend betrayal.

Mattheo just lifted his hands, mock-innocent. “I haven’t even touched her.”

Pause.

He smirked.

“…Yet.”

Theo lunged.

The couch nearly flipped over as the rest of the group cheered like it was a quidditch match.

--

After the chaos died down, after Theo and Mattheo were both lying on the rug bruised and laughing, after the firewhiskey made them all a little loose-tongued, the conversation turned… quieter.

"Think we'll ever get out of here?" Lorenzo asked suddenly, staring up at the green-glowing ceiling.

"What, Hogwarts?" Blaise asked.

"No. This... whole life." Lorenzo waved a vague hand. "The name, the expectations. Being a Nott, a Malfoy, a Zabini."

The silence settled heavy for a second.

Theo glanced at Mattheo.

"We're not our parents," he said simply. "We can choose."

Mattheo smirked without humor. "Yeah, but blood stains."

Theo shrugged. "So we bleed for something better."

For once, Mattheo didn't tease. Just bumped Theo’s shoulder with his own — a rare, quiet thank you.

---

Meanwhile...

Somewhere in the girls’ dorm, Y/N sneezed.

Astoria: “One of them’s talking about you.”

Pansy: “Or plotting your downfall.”

Astoria: “Could be both.”

Pansy: “Probably Mattheo.”

Astoria: “Definitely Mattheo.”

Y/N: Blushes without knowing why.

Chapter Text

Professor Slughorn was already flustered before the group even walked in.

“Ah! My favourite troublemakers,” he greeted cheerfully, but his eyes were flicking warily between Mattheo, Draco, and Theo like one of them might ignite the cauldron just for sport.

“Separate partners today,” he said quickly, before they could gravitate toward their usual chaos clusters. “We’re working on Amortentia—so I suggest you all focus.”

Y/N blinked, surprised. Amortentia? She’d read about it, of course. The most powerful love potion in existence. With a unique twist — it smells different to everyone.

Interesting.

Slughorn’s voice continued: “Let’s see... Y/N with Mattheo. Theodore with Astoria. Pansy with Blaise. Draco with Lorenzo… just don’t blow anything up.”

Lorenzo : “No promises.”

---

Y/N adjusted her gloves, quietly measuring out ingredients with practiced hands.

Mattheo leaned on the edge of the table, watching her with interest. “You always this good with potions?”

“I like the precision,” she said softly, not looking up. “It’s not loud. It makes sense.”

Mattheo blinked, tilting his head. “You’re full of surprises.”

“You’re full of commentary.”

He laughed under his breath. “Touché.”

They stirred in silence for a few moments, and the potion began to shimmer faintly. Slughorn clapped his hands from the front. “Now then! As it brews, you’ll begin to smell your individual scent profile—what attracts you most.”

Y/N blinked, subtly sniffed.

Fresh rain on stone. Ink. A hint of citrus. And… warm smoke?

Her eyes flicked up without thinking—straight to Mattheo.

Who was already staring at her.

“…What do you smell?” she asked, a little too fast.

Mattheo tilted his head, eyes narrowing playfully.

“Mint leaves. Firewhiskey. And something like—violets.”

Y/N froze.

Violets. Her shampoo.

He knew.

She looked away, cheeks pinking, but not before Mattheo’s smirk deepened—genuine this time, not just teasing.

“Dangerous, remember?” he murmured.

“Still loud,” she muttered.

From the other side of the room, Theo was watching like a hawk.

Slughorn clapped again. “Perfect brewing from Nott and Riddle! Ah, and Astoria and Theodore — textbook work! Now, let’s not sample anything, Mr. Malfoy, put the ladle down.”

---

As they packed up, Mattheo leaned closer to Y/N and whispered, “So, who did you smell?”

She looked up at him, deadpan. “Rain. Ink. Smoke.”

He paused.

“…You read too much.”

“You talk too much.”

He laughed, low and dangerous. “We’re a good match.”

Across the room, Theo’s chair scraped back loudly. Blaise put a calming hand on his shoulder, muttering, “Deep breaths. Think happy thoughts.”

---

For the next few days, Y/N and Mattheo keep finding themselves in stolen corners, quiet corridors, under staircases, beside windows… places where the air gets tight, eyes linger too long, and silence says way too much. But every single time things start to crackle — Theo appears. Like some divine, overprotective sibling curse, everywhere, anytime.

--

Greenhouse Corridor, After Hours

Y/N was just returning from the Astronomy Tower, her boots soft against the stone floor, when Mattheo rounded the corner from the opposite end.

They both paused.

Then kept walking — slowly — until they stopped inches apart.

Neither spoke.

She looked up at him, eyes a little tired, a little soft.

He leaned a hand against the wall beside her head. “You're everywhere I am.”

She gave a small shrug. “Maybe you’re everywhere I am.”

His lips twitched, dark eyes dropping to hers. “Careful. I’ll start thinking you like me.”

“Maybe I do.”

And just as his hand brushed a curl behind her ear—

“Y/N?”
Theo’s voice, echoing down the hall like a spell.

They both froze.

Mattheo: deep exhale of murder and despair

Y/N, stepping back like nothing happened: “Hi, Theo.”

Mattheo, muttering: “I’m going to hex that man in his sleep.”

---

By the Lake, Foggy Morning

Y/N was skipping stones across the still water, bundled in a scarf and coat, when Mattheo strolled down the hill, hands in his pockets.

He didn’t say anything. Just sat beside her.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Just… silence and mist and something unsaid hanging thick between them.

Then—

“You always disappear after breakfast,” he said.

“I like the quiet.”

“You’re not the only one.”

She glanced at him. “You’re not usually up this early.”

He smirked. “Maybe I wanted to see if you'd be here.”

She blinked, caught between amusement and something else. “You're a little intense in the morning.”

“Only in the morning?”

But just as she started to smirk—

“Oi, Y/N!”
Theo’s voice again, this time from the top of the hill. “You’ve got that group project with Daphne, remember?”

Mattheo clenched his jaw.

Y/N stood, brushing off her gloves. “See you later, Mattheo.”

As she walked away, Mattheo looked up at the sky like it had betrayed him. “I’m going to glue that man’s mouth shut.”

---

The Slytherin Common Room, Warm Evening

It was late.

Y/N sat curled in a green armchair, reading, legs tucked beneath her.

Mattheo dropped onto the floor beside her, back against the armrest, head tilted just enough to see her profile.

“You smell like old books,” he muttered.

She raised a brow. “That’s your opening line?”

“No,” he said. “This is.”

And then he turned, arm sliding up onto the chair beside her, leaning in just slightly—

“Y/N, I need your help with something—”
Theo appeared like a demon from the shadows.

Mattheo actually groaned.

Theo blinked. “What?”

Y/N covered her smile with a hand. “Nothing, Theo.”

Mattheo, deadpan: “I’m putting a curse on your bloodline.”

---

BONUS: Later, in the Boys’ Dorm

Mattheo, throwing himself onto his bed: “He’s like some kind of anti-romance spell.”

Draco: “You mean your best friend?”

Mattheo: “Best friend, biggest cockblock. Two things can be true.”

Blaise: “You love him.”

Mattheo: “I do. And I’m going to kill him.”

Chapter Text

The Slytherin common room. Afternoon. Blaise, Draco, Astoria, Pansy, and Lorenzo have gathered in a secret meeting.

Mattheo’s pacing. “One hour. That’s all I need. One hour with her. Alone.”

Draco: “You want us to babysit Theo?”

Astoria: “You mean stall him.”

Pansy: “You mean lie to his face.”

Mattheo: “You guys owe me. Remember fourth year? The potions incident?”

Everyone groans.

Draco: “Fine. But if he hexes someone—”

Mattheo: “It won’t be me.”

Blaise: “Yes it will.”

---

He finds her in the library. Slides a folded piece of parchment across the table.

She raises a brow, opens it slowly.

“If you say yes, meet me by the Astronomy Tower at 8. Dress warm.”

She looks up. He’s already gone.

---

Y/N's breath fogs the air as she climbs the winding steps to the top of the tower. She’s wearing a deep green cloak over a soft knit sweater, curls tucked under a beanie. Her cheeks are pink from the cold.

Mattheo’s already there — leaning against the ledge, lantern casting a soft amber glow around him. A picnic charm laid out on a floating blanket. Hot chocolate. A tray of honey-butter toast. Candied apples. Firewhisky in a flask. Stars above, candles floating lazily in the air around them.

Y/N blinks. “You did this?”

He shrugs. “Got help from Pansy. But yeah.”

She walks over. “Why?”

He meets her gaze. “Because I wanted to see you smile. Without interruption.”

A pause.

Then she does smile — slow, quiet, warm.

“Then you’d better hope your little plan worked.”

---

Meanwhile, in the dungeons…

Pansy: “Theo, come with us! Blaise needs help with his tie—”

Blaise: “I do not—”

Pansy: “Shut up, Blaise.”

Draco, pushing Theo into a room: “Surprise! Boys’ game night! You’re the guest of honor!”

Theo, confused: “Why does this feel like a trap?”

Draco: “Because it is.”

Astoria: “Card game! Drinks! No reason to be suspicious at all!”

Theo squints. “Where’s Mattheo?”

Silence.

Blaise, deadpan: “Dead.”

Astoria: “Studying.”

Lorenzo : “Dating your sister.”

Everyone turns.

Lorenzo : “I mean—”

Theo: narrows eyes “What did you just say?”

Chaos.

---

Back at the tower, Y/N sits beside Mattheo, sipping warm cocoa. The stars above are clear. Quiet hangs between them, but it’s comfortable now.

“You’ve changed since Beauxbatons,” he says softly.

She looks at him. “And you haven’t?”

He chuckles. “I’ve gotten worse.”

She shakes her head. “You’ve gotten real.”

He looks at her, long and deep. “You make me want to stop pretending.”

Her voice is barely above a whisper. “Then stop.”

And he leans in. Slow. Intentional. The stars seem to hum with it.

His hand brushes her cheek, thumb soft beneath her eye. She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t pull back.

And just as their lips nearly touch—

BANG.

“RIDDLE!”

Theo’s voice echoes from below the tower.

Mattheo: “I’M GONNA KILL DRACO.”

Y/N, calmly sipping her cocoa: “Told you your plan wouldn’t work.”

Mattheo, through clenched teeth: “Worth it.”

Mattheo shot to his feet like he’d been hit with a lightning bolt.

Y/N blinked as he grabbed his coat, eyes wide.

“Mattheo—”

“No time,” he muttered, already backing toward the stairs. “If I don’t start running now, I’m going to end up in the Hospital Wing or a pine box.”

She stood too, laughing despite herself. “You deserve it.”

“I know.” He reached the top of the stairs, paused—then turned back to her.

She stepped closer, just a little.

They looked at each other in the flickering lantern light. Her hair were falling loose from her beanie. His lips parted, maybe to say goodbye—or maybe to say something.

Instead, she rose on her toes quickly, grabbed his scarf, and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

Mattheo froze.

Then he gave the stupidest, softest little grin—and bolted.

--

Theo burst through the Entrance Hall doors, green scarf flying, rage levels at it's highest.

“RIDDLE!” he shouted into the cold air.

Mattheo: already halfway across the courtyard, coat flapping behind him, yelling back, “IT WAS JUST COCOA!”

“You corrupted my sister!?”

“IT WAS JUST A DATE!”

“I SWEAR TO MERLIN I’LL SKIN YOU!”

“I’D RATHER DIE HOT!”

Theo sprinted after him.

Draco, Blaise, and Lorenzo stood at the top of the stairs watching them disappear into the night.

Draco sighed. “They’re going to kill each other.”

Pansy, walking up beside them: “No, Theo’s going to kill Mattheo. And Mattheo’s going to flirt with death on purpose.”

Astoria: “Honestly? Hot.”

---

Y/N watched the madness unfold below, sipping the last of her cocoa.

She whispered to herself, almost amused, almost shy:

“…so dramatic.”

And yet…

She was smiling.

Chapter Text

It’s late. The Slytherin girls’ dorm is glowing with soft candlelight, pillows and blankets piled everywhere like a makeshift den of secrets. Pansy’s enchanted a record player to spin mellow jazz. Astoria brought sweets from the kitchen. Y/N is sitting cross-legged in a giant hoodie (probably stolen from Theo or Mattheo — no one’s asking), cheeks a little pink, hair down, and definitely trying not to seem suspicious.

Pansy eyes her. “Alright. Spill.”

Y/N blinks. “Spill what?”

Astoria smirks from where she’s painting her nails with a glittering charm polish. “Don’t play dumb, chérie. You’ve been glowing since you came back from the Astronomy Tower.”

Y/N: “I have not been—”

Pansy cuts in: “You kissed him.”

Y/N sputters on her hot chocolate. “It was on the cheek!”

Pansy gasps dramatically. “Adorable.”

Astoria leans forward. “Did he look that good in the moonlight or is that just our collective delusion?”

Y/N mumbles into her cup, “He always looks good.”

Pansy squeals and throws a pillow at her. “She admits it!”

Y/N, flustered, buries her face in the pillow. “You’re insufferable.”

Astoria, smiling: “He makes you nervous, doesn’t he?”

Y/N peeks up. “Yes. And that’s the problem.”

Pansy, now fully lying upside down on the bed like she’s been emotionally wounded: “Gods, I love boys who make you feel like your bones are too soft. It’s disgusting.”

Y/N: “I don’t know what to do about it. He’s… intense. But also sweet. In a terrifying, chaotic way.”

Astoria: “He’s obsessed with you.”

Pansy: “And Theo’s obsessed with making sure no one finds that out.”

Y/N groans, falling back onto the pillows. “He chased Mattheo through the courtyard. I saw it happen.”

Pansy: “Was it hot?”

Y/N: “The running or the possessiveness?”

Astoria: “Yes.”

Cue more giggles, more shared secrets, and the kind of cozy, shameless girl talk that wraps you up like a warm potion.

Later, when they’re all half-asleep, someone mumbles:

“He really likes you, you know.”

Y/N, blinking up at the dark ceiling, replies so quietly it almost gets lost in the room’s hush:

“I know.”

--

Mattheo is nothing if not persistent. After the Theo-Chase Incident of the Astronomy Tower, he’s been laying low… kind of. Flirty in the hallways, smirking in Potions, brushing his fingers against Y/N's when he passes her a quill — all very low-key, very not subtle.

But now?

He wants to officially try again.

---

Y/N's curled up reading in front of the fireplace, hair pulled back, Theo nowhere in sight. Mattheo leans against the hearth like he owns the place, that usual smug tilt to his mouth.

“You doing anything tomorrow?”

She glances up, suspicious. “No.”

He grins. “Good. Hogsmeade. Me. You. No interruptions.”

Y/N: “You’re brave.”

Mattheo: “I’m desperate.”

She laughs. “Is that your charm working?”

“I’m giving it everything I’ve got.”

She stares at him for a beat, then slowly nods. “Alright.”

His grin is instant. “Dress warm. And bring money. I'm not that nice.”

---

It’s snowing lightly — fat, soft flakes that cling to scarves and eyelashes.

Y/N shows up in a thick cream-colored coat, hair in soft waves, cheeks pink from the cold. Mattheo, waiting outside Honeydukes in a black coat and gloves, forgets how to speak for a full five seconds.

“You clean up,” he says, smirking.

“You say that like I’m usually a mess.”

“You say that like I don’t like it.”

She raises a brow.

He coughs. “Let’s go.”

---

First Stop : The Three Broomsticks

They warm up with butterbeer. Y/N wraps her hands around the mug and watches the fire. Mattheo watches her.

“You’re not saying much,” she says.

“I’m trying not to ruin it.”

“You won’t.”

He looks surprised.

She smirks. “Unless you start talking about yourself in the third person again.”

“Mattheo Riddle resents that accusation.”

Now : Zonkos

Y/N gets surprisingly into the chaos, testing every ridiculous product. Mattheo watches her laugh — eyes bright, all French mischief — and thinks, I’m doomed.

Then : A walk down the snowy path

Silence, but the nice kind. Her gloved hand brushes his. He hooks his pinky with hers. She doesn’t let go.

---

Meanwhile: Back at Hogwarts

Theo: “Where’s Mattheo?”

Draco: “In the library.”

Blaise: “With Pansy.”

Pansy: “What? No, I’m—”
Astoria elbows her.

Theo squints. “You’re all horrible liars.”

Lorenzo: “Yeah, but you love us.”

Theo glares. “He better not be with my sister.”

--

The sun’s starting to dip low over Hogsmeade, casting golden-pink light over the snow-covered rooftops. The wind has picked up just a little, enough for Y/N to pull her scarf higher as she and Mattheo stroll back toward the castle gates.

He keeps glancing at her — out of the corner of his eye, then not-so-subtly full-on staring.

Y/N catches him. “You’re doing it again.”

Mattheo raises an eyebrow. “Doing what?”

“Staring. Like I’m a creature you found in Care of Magical Creatures.”

He grins. “Nah. You’d definitely be a Dark Artefact.”

She laughs, shoves his shoulder gently. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m honest.”

They stop just outside the castle gates, where the snow is untouched and the path curves out of sight. It’s quiet. Soft.

Mattheo, voice dropping just slightly: “This was… not terrible, right?”

Y/N smiles up at him, cheeks pink. “It was nice.”

He steps a little closer. “Good enough for a kiss?”

She tilts her head, thoughtful. “Hmm…”

He leans in a touch more, playful and challenging. “That a maybe?”

She hums again, then raises a brow with a teasing glint in her eyes. “You get one when you get my brother’s approval.”

Mattheo chokes. “You’re kidding.”

Y/N smiles like the devil in a cozy coat. “Not even a little.”

He groans, throws his head back. “Y/N, he’ll never approve. He still threatens me in Potions.”

She grins. “Then you’ll have to be very, very charming.”

He squints at her, eyes narrowed, lips twitching like he’s half-annoyed and half-devastated.

“You’re evil,” he mutters.

She leans up on her toes suddenly — and plants a soft, quick kiss to his cheek. Right where his smirk fades into surprise.

Her voice, sweet as syrup:

“That’s just to keep you motivated.”

Mattheo stands frozen, eyes wide, mouth parted slightly — and definitely blushing.

Y/N walks off toward the castle, not looking back.

He touches his cheek.

“I’m in trouble.”

Chapter Text

The next few days at Hogwarts are chaotic — not because of pranks or exploding cauldrons, but because Mattheo Riddle, Slytherin’s smugest menace, has decided to actively pursue the most dangerous quest of all:

Win Theodore Nott’s approval.

Or, as he calls it:

“Operation: Brother-in-Law.”

---

Mattheo slides into the seat beside Theo at breakfast.

Mattheo: “You know, I’ve always admired how responsible you are. And your hair looks great today.”

Theo: freezes mid-bite “Who are you and what have you done with Riddle.”

Mattheo, grinning: “Just saying. You’re like... the backbone of this group.”

Theo, unimpressed: “Stop talking.”

Mattheo: “Father-figure energy.”

Theo chokes on his pumpkin juice.

---

Later that day, Theo goes to grab his bag in Defense Against the Dark Arts. It’s already packed and floating beside him.

He glares. “Mattheo.”

Mattheo appears around the corner with a flourish. “Just helping my favorite Nott sibling’s favorite sibling.”

Theo: “I’m your only chance at not getting hexed.”

Mattheo: “Exactly!”

---

That evening in the common room, Mattheo drops down beside Theo with a chessboard.

Mattheo: “Rematch?”

Theo, squinting: “You never play me in chess.”

Mattheo: “Well, thought we could, you know, bond. Talk about life. Interests. Daughters' names.”

Theo: “…Get out.”

Mattheo: “I’m just saying! We could start a family league—”

Theodore lunges. Mattheo leaps over the back of the couch and runs, laughing:

“YOU GONNA BE THE HOT UNCLE!”

---

Meanwhile, Y/N is dying of laughter as Astoria recounts Mattheo’s latest “brotherly bonding” attempt — which apparently involved Mattheo dramatically offering Theo the last chocolate frog at lunch “as a symbol of future trust.”

Pansy: “He’s so unserious it’s painful.”

Y/N, blushing: “He’s trying.”

Astoria: “Trying to be murdered.”

Y/N hides her grin behind a book. “I’m… kind of proud of him.”

Pansy: “You’re smitten.”

Y/N, soft voice: “Maybe.”

--

It happens late one evening in the library — quiet, empty, with the soft hum of floating lanterns and the scratch of a quill here or there.

Y/N's tucked into a corner with her Charms textbook, boots up on the windowsill, when Theo slides silently into the seat across from her.

She blinks. “Hi?”

He doesn’t say anything at first — just looks at her. That older brother stare. The one that says I know everything even when I don’t, and I will make your life hell if needed.

Y/N lowers her book. “You’re being weird.”

Theo leans in, resting his arms on the table. Voice calm. Too calm.

“Are you serious about him?”

Y/N freezes for a second, then sets the book down fully. “You mean Mattheo?”

“Obviously.”

She hesitates. Then, very quietly:

“I don’t know yet. But I think I could be.”

Theo’s expression doesn’t change — still cool, unreadable.

Y/N frowns. “You hate it that much?”

Theo exhales. “No. I hate that it’s him.”

Y/N raises a brow.

“I love Mattheo,” he admits. “He’s my brother in every way that counts.”

A pause. Then—

“But he’s reckless. Impulsive. He ruins everything he touches for fun.”

Y/N doesn’t flinch. “You don’t think I can handle him?”

“I think he’s never had someone matter like you. And if he screws this up…”

His jaw clenches.

“I’ll break his wand. And both legs.”

Y/N smirks. “So dramatic.”

“Dead serious.”

She tilts her head, her voice softer now. “But if he doesn’t screw up?”

Theo sighs again, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“…Then I guess I’ll have to be nice at your wedding.”

Y/N laughs. “Theo!”

He leans back in his chair. “Just… be careful, alright?”

“I am.”

Theo pauses, then eyes her sharply.

“And if he tries anything before I approve it, I’ll set his bed on fire.”

Y/N shrugs, smiling like a saint. “Guess he’ll have to keep trying.”

---

Cut to: Mattheo, across the castle, sneezing.

Blaise: “Someone’s talking about you.”

Mattheo: “Hopefully it’s my future wifey.”

Draco: “Please stop saying that.”

---

It’s just past midnight in the boys’ dorm. Everyone’s either asleep or pretending to be. Mattheo’s lying in bed, arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling like he’s got a hundred snarky thoughts and nowhere to send them.

The door creaks open. Footsteps. Then a familiar voice, flat and dangerous:

“Get up.”

Mattheo doesn’t even flinch. “Didn’t know we were doing a midnight duel.”

Theo tosses something heavy onto his bed — a bottle of firewhisky from the Nott cellar, probably. No words. Just that classic Theo Look.

Mattheo sits up slowly, expression amused but cautious. “Alright. Let’s have it.”

They sneak out to the Astronomy Tower. No interruptions this time. No Y/N, no group, no distractions. Just the two of them under a sky full of stars, breath fogging in the cold.

Theo leans against the railing. “So.”

Mattheo leans next to him. “So.”

Theo hands him the bottle.

Mattheo takes a sip, then glances sideways. “You’re going to hex me or what?”

Theo: “Not yet.”

A pause.

“You like her?” Theo says it flatly, but there’s something tired behind it. Not angry. Just… honest.

Mattheo doesn’t joke for once. Doesn’t smirk. He takes another sip. Nods.

“Yeah. I do.”

Theo: “Since when?”

Mattheo: “Since she walked in and made Beauxbatons look like a war academy.”

Theo exhales, slow. “And this isn’t a game to you?”

Mattheo turns, leans back against the railing now. His voice quiet.

“She’s the only person I’ve ever met who makes me feel like I’m not already decided.”

Theo stares at him.

“You know me. You really know me. And you know how people look at me. Like I’m chaos in a nice coat. But she... she doesn’t flinch. And she’s brilliant. And kind. And doesn’t fall for my bullshit.”

Another pause.

“And if she wanted me to disappear, I would. Just to not mess her up.”

Theo says nothing for a long moment. Then—

“You’ve never sounded like that about anyone.”

Mattheo shrugs. “Never felt like that about anyone.”

Theo studies him again. “You hurt her—”

“I won’t.”

Theo eyes narrow slightly. “I mean it, Mattheo.”

Mattheo nods. “So do I.”

And for the first time in weeks, there’s silence between them that isn’t tense. It’s... something almost like peace.

Theo finally mutters, “Fine.”

Mattheo blinks. “Fine?”

Theo sighs, deadpan: “Congratulations. You have conditional brothers-in-law probation.”

Mattheo grins like it’s Christmas.

Theo adds, “You so much as breathe wrong near her, and I’ll make your death look like an accident.”

Mattheo salutes. “Yes, sir.”

They both sip the firewhisky. Somewhere below, the castle is quiet.

Then Mattheo smirks, of course. “So… does this mean I can kiss her now?”

Theo: “I take it back.”

Mattheo: “Too late! You already said it!”

Theo lunges. Mattheo runs. Again.

Chapter Text

It’s brisk out — that crisp, electric kind of Hogwarts morning where the sky is steel-blue and the stands are already packed, students buzzing with excitement and house banners fluttering wildly.

The Slytherin Quidditch team is warming up on the pitch, emerald green robes flaring as they shoot through the sky. The girls — Y/N, Astoria, and Pansy — are already in the stands, bundled in scarves and gloves, sipping something warm and waiting for the match to start.

Y/N's eyes are fixed on one broom in particular.

Mattheo Riddle.

Hair tousled. Smirk dialed up to eleven. Dangerous and charming in that infuriating way he always is, circling the pitch like a storm in motion.

Right before the starting whistle, he lands near the stands — right in front of her.

She blinks. “What are you—?”

He doesn’t say a word. Just shrugs off his Slytherin team jacket, warm from his body, and holds it out.

“Wear it.”

Y/N stares. “Mattheo—”

“C'mon. For luck.”

There’s something in his eyes — less teasing, more… hopeful. Honest.

Y/N slowly takes it. It’s oversized on her, the sleeves covering her hands, the hem hitting mid-thigh. She turns it around to see RIDDLE stitched in bold white letters across the back, above his number 7.

Astoria whistles. “That’s official.”

Pansy smirks. “He’s basically branded you.”

Léa hides half her face in the collar. “Shut up.”

From the pitch, Mattheo shoots her a wink before pushing off the ground and disappearing into the sky, broom slicing through the air like a blade.

--

The announcer’s shouting names. Bludgers are flying. Theo is playing like he’s personally avenging a war crime. And Mattheo?

Mattheo is on fire.

The crowd can’t decide whether to cheer or scream every time he dives for the Quaffle, hair flying, all focused rage and charm.

But every time he scores, his eyes flick up — just once — to the stands.

To her.

Wearing his name.

--

The final whistle screams across the pitch — Slytherin has won. The stands erupt into cheers and chaos, green and silver banners flapping violently in the wind as students flood down the bleachers, storming the field.

The boys are a blur of sweaty hugs, rough slaps on the back, shouting, and that wild, adrenaline-high grin only a hard-won match can earn. Blaise is crowing, Draco’s lifting his broom in the air, Theo’s scowling but victorious, chest heaving with effort.

And Mattheo?

Mattheo’s looking for her.

Y/N pushes her way through the students spilling onto the pitch, Mattheo’s jacket still wrapped tightly around her. It smells like wind and smoke and something dangerously him. She finds him just as he turns toward her — wild-eyed, breathless, cheeks flushed from the cold and victory.

He freezes when he sees her.

His jacket on her.

The crowd noise blurs into nothing.

And before she can talk herself out of it — before nerves or Theo or anyone else can stop her — Y/N grabs him by the collar of his Quidditch robes, pulls him down and—

Kisses him.

Her first kiss — soft but full of heat, clumsy but real, the kind that happens in the middle of a crowd, like the rest of the world doesn’t exist for just one second.

Mattheo stills. Then kisses her back, like hell yes he’s earned this.

The cheers grow louder — though it’s hard to tell if it’s for the win or the kiss. Astoria’s already squealing. Pansy’s half-screaming, “FINALLY!”

Mattheo pulls away just enough to look at her. His voice is rough, low:

“Was that for the win?”

Y/N, breathless: “Winner’s reward.”

He grins, head falling forward to rest gently against hers. “I should win more often.”

Behind them, Theo’s voice cuts through the noise:

“RIDDLE LET GO OF MY SISTER.”

Mattheo doesn’t look away. Just calls over his shoulder:

“FILE A COMPLAINT, BROTHER-IN-LAW.”

Theo starts marching toward them.

Mattheo grabs Y/N's hand.

“Run?”

Y/N, laughing: “Definitely.”

They sprint off across the field, hearts pounding, fingers laced.

--

The Slytherin common room is glowing with victory.

Green flames flicker wildly in the hearth, enchanted lanterns dance along the walls, and someone’s clearly smuggled in a few bottles of firewhisky because the upper years are already toasting with reckless glee. Music thumps through the stone chamber, pulsing like a heartbeat under everyone’s skin.

Blaise is trying to teach first-years how to really celebrate. Astoria’s dancing on a couch with Pansy, both glittering and dangerous like proper Slytherin royalty. Theo is slumped in an armchair, arms crossed, glowering into a drink like someone personally offended him by having fun.

And in the middle of it all — Mattheo and Y/N.

He’s got his arm slung lazily around her waist, smug and golden with victory. She’s still wearing his jacket, but now it’s half unzipped, her cheeks flushed from the heat of the room and maybe the memory of that kiss.

“You alright?” he leans in, voice low in her ear, nearly lost in the chaos.

Y/N nods, dazed. “It’s… loud.”

Mattheo chuckles, hand squeezing her side gently. “That’s Slytherin after a win, princesse. No volume control.”

She turns her face toward him, eyes soft. “It’s a bit much.”

He nods, mock-serious. “Shall I fight them all and take you somewhere quiet?”

She laughs.

“You’d try.”

Across the room, Theo watches. Hard stare, drink untouched. Astoria notices and throws a pillow at him.

“Stop brooding. He’s not trying to ruin her.”

Theo growls. “He is literally trying to kiss her again.”

Pansy calls out from the couch: “Let him! It’s cute!”

Mattheo, hearing that, winks at Theo over Y/N's head. Theo flips him off. Blaise yells, “TO TRUE LOVE!” and someone else starts chanting Mattheo’s name.

Y/N buries her face in Mattheo’s shoulder, mortified but laughing. “They’re all insane.”

Mattheo kisses her temple gently. “That’s why you fit right in.”

--

Much later, when the firewhisky has thinned and the common room has settled into a hazy blur of tipsy laughter and someone snoring on a windowsill, Mattheo tugs gently on Y/N's hand.

“Come on,” he murmurs. “I know somewhere better.”

She follows without question, weaving past their sleeping housemates, Astoria curled up beside Draco and Pansy loudly shushing Blaise in her sleep.

Mattheo leads her through the halls, up one narrow staircase, through a hidden passage behind a tapestry she’s never noticed before. He knows all the hidden corners of Hogwarts — of course he does.

They finally stop on the Astronomy Tower’s balcony. It’s quiet. Cold, but the stars are brilliant above them, clear and sharp like diamonds on black silk. The wind brushes over her cheeks, and she pulls his jacket tighter around her.

Mattheo glances at her. “Too cold?”

Y/N shakes her head. “Feels good. Like I can think.”

He leans against the stone railing, looking out over the lake. “It’s weird,” he says after a minute. “I’ve known Theo forever. And the rest of them too. But with you…”

She looks over, eyes curious. “What about me?”

He shrugs. “I don’t feel like I have to perform. Or win. Or be loud. You make the quiet feel good.”

Y/N smiles, soft and a little shy. “You’re not always loud, you know.”

Mattheo turns to face her fully, stepping closer. “I am when I want your attention.”

“You usually have it,” she says, quietly.

He smirks — then softens. His voice drops again, something more vulnerable than usual:

“That kiss… earlier. That wasn’t just about the win, was it?”

Y/N bites her lip, eyes meeting his. “No. It was about you.”

For once, Mattheo’s left speechless.

He steps in even closer, barely any space between them now. “Do I get another?”

Y/N smiles — not teasing this time, just honest. “You do.”

And this time, the kiss is slower. Warmer. Less wild energy, more meaning. His hands are gentle, one cupping her jaw, the other settling on her waist. Hers twist into the front of his shirt like she’s anchoring herself.

They break apart slowly, foreheads pressed together.

Then—

“If Theo finds out I kissed you again, we’re both dead.”

Y/N laughs softly. “Worth it.”

Mattheo grins, eyes sparkling in the starlight. “You’re trouble, Y/N Nott.”

She leans her head against his shoulder. “And you’re doomed.”