The Chosen One (MattheoRiddle x Ophelia)

Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ-11

As he took the bottle and downed its contents in one swift gulp, leaving only a few drops for me to sample, I couldn't help but feel a sense of apprehension. Without missing a beat, he plucked a few strands of hair from his head and dropped them into the liquid. With a sly smirk, he handed the bottle over to me, urging me to take a sip. But to my surprise, nothing happened. No change in my expression, no sudden rush of adrenaline. Just a dull, flat taste lingering on my tongue.

Despite tasting the liquid and feeling no change, I refused to accept my defeat. I touched my face repeatedly, hoping for some kind of reaction, but to no avail. My eyes met his, and I could sense the confidence radiating from him. His smirk grew wider, as if he was relishing in his victory. "I hope you realize now that you have lost, Miss Snape," he said with a hint of superiority in his voice.

My heart raced as he spoke, the weight of his words sinking in. "Now to prove my point that it is Veritaserum, I'll have to ask you some questions, and you need to answer willingly or unwillingly." I gave him the death stare, but he seemed unfazed. Spending a mere second with him felt like burning in hell, and now I was expected to tolerate him for hours, under the influence of Veritaserum no less. Before I could even utter a word, he spoke, his question shocking me to my core.

"Were you afraid after getting the little parchment on your table?"

My eyes widened in shock and confusion. How did he know about that? My mind raced, trying to piece together the puzzle. And then it hit me - he was the one who had kept the parchment and taken the book away from me that night.

Realization dawned on me like a bolt of lightning, and I felt a surge of anger and frustration . He had entered my room that night, after our first fight, and stolen the book.

"You...you stole from me," I stammered, my voice shaking with emotion. "How could you do that? How could you invade my privacy like that?"

But Matthew just laughed, a cold, cruel sound that echoed through the room. "Oh, come now, Miss Snape," he said, his voice low and smooth.

"Stolen? Interesting. I seem to recall seeing you in the vicinity of the Room of Requirement recently." he said, his tone laced with mockery. My blood boiled with anger, and I could feel my face flush with frustration. I clenched my fists, my knuckles turning white, and took a step closer to him. "How dare you accuse me of something so heinous!" I seethed, my voice trembling with rage. I could feel my body language shifting, my posture becoming more aggressive as I glared at him, daring him to say another word.

"I say, little witch, one might deduce that you're a bit of a light-fingered fellow, given that you've nicked that book. After all, that's what thieves do, isn't it?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The freaking arse was accusing me of theft? I know I've stolen few things in my whole life but no one has ever lowered my dignity by accusing me of a thief. I felt a surge of anger and indignation rise up within me, and I knew I had to defend myself. With a trembling voice, I stood up and faced that little wanker.

Stop it!"I yelled at the top of my lungs, incensed by the accusation. "I am not a thief! How dare you even suggest such slander!" My voiced echoed through our shared room, bouncing off the walls. "Have you no decency, you twat? Calling me a thief - as if I were some sort of common criminal." My steely glare matched the sharp tone of my words, leaving no room for interpretation. As I moved towards Matthew with a hand outstretched, he bristled with ire and pushed me back with an ungentle hand. Grabbing me by the shoulders, Matthew spat out between gritted teeth, "You better watch how you speak to me, Ophelia."

The raw anger in his voice was palpable, and I couldn't help but feel a sting of terror. With both hands on my shoulders, he pinned me to the cupboard, his grip unyielding. 

As his warm breath washed over my cheeks, I felt my body tense up as his intense gaze bore into me. His cold, dark brown eyes seemed capable of taking out the soul from one's body, leaving me feeling trapped under his powerful influence once more. I despised the way he held me captive, leaving me powerless to resist him. Even as I longed to scratch his face and draw forth blood, I found myself pinned down, helpless against his will. It was as though I was caught in a spider's web, ensnared by his spell and unable to break free.

As he towered over me, I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I struggled to find the words to speak. My mind was racing with thoughts, but I couldn't seem to form them into coherent sentences. I could feel my body language betraying me as I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. My hands were trembling, and my palms were slick with sweat. I wanted to run, to escape his grasp, but I knew that it was futile.

In that moment, I realized that I was powerless against him. He had a hold on me that was stronger than I ever could have imagined. I was caught in his web, and there was no escape. The more I struggled, the tighter the strands of his spell seemed to wrap around me.

The sudden onset of a frigid sensation around my stomach jolted me from my thoughts. A shiver crawled up my spine as I tried to comprehend what was happening. The icy touch of Matthew's hand, creeping under my black top and tracing the contours of my flesh, sent a wave of unfamiliar sensations coursing through my body. It was a strange feeling, one that I couldn't quite put into words. It was wrong, I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't deny the rush of sensation that coursed through me.

Matthew's rough hands traversed the expanse of my bare back, tracing intricate patterns that left me yearning for more. My mind was in turmoil, torn between the desire to resist his spellbinding touch and the longing to submit to his dominating will. The conflicting emotions burned like a raging inferno within me, leaving me breathless and disoriented. I knew I should stop him, but my body betrayed me, craving his touch like a drug. It was as if I was caught in a web of my own making, struggling to break free from the spell that he had woven around me.

Matthew's fingers ascended to the strip of bra, his touch sending shivers down my spine. The world around me faded away, leaving me gasping for air as if I had been plunged into a vacuum. I was powerless to resist his magnetic touch as he swirled his finger around the delicate fabric. It was as if I had been ensnared in a web of his making, a helpless victim to his dark magic. A part of me longed to break free from his spell, but the rest of me was consumed by the fiery passion that burned within me.

Suddenly, his cold voice shattered the spell that had ensnared me, bringing me back to reality. "Are you enjoying this, little witch?" he asked, his voice as deep as the depths of the ocean, yet calm and gentle like a cool breeze on a summer's day. I wanted to deny it, to scream out that I was not enjoying any of this, but my tongue refused to obey my commands. I bit down on my tongue, willing myself not to utter a single word. The silence between us was deafening, the tension palpable as we stood there, locked in a battle of wills.

He asked again, his voice low and insistent. "I asked, are you enjoying it?" This time, I couldn't resist, the veritaserum doing its work perfectly. "Yes," I whispered, the word escaping me before I could even comprehend what I had said. A devilish and playful smirk grew on his lips, as if he was enjoying every bit of torturing me. The tension between us was electric, the air thick with the dark magic that permeated the halls of Hogwarts. His eyes bore into mine, daring me to resist his spellbinding touch. I was powerless to resist him, caught in a web of his own making.

Just when I had started to love the new, strange feeling that had taken hold of me, he pulled himself back, leaving me feeling lost and alone once more. His warm breath and touch were gone, leaving me with an unquenchable desire that I knew was so, so wrong. Internally, I was yelling and scolding myself for allowing him to come so close to me. I hated how much I wanted his touch again, how much I longed for his dark magic to envelop me once more. But in reality, he took a step back and turned around, his back to me as if nothing had happened. He sat down on the chair and started writing on the paper, his eyes focused on the task at hand. I pulled down my top and exited the office, feeling embarrassed and exposed.