But.. Her.. (Mattheo x Y/n) Enemies to Lovers

Deal with it.

Y/n awoke the next morning with a throbbing headache and a dull ache in her wrist, the reminder of the bruise from Mattheo's tight grip. As she tried to piece together the events of the previous night through the haze of her hangover, Pansy entered the room and approached her with a gentle smile.

"Hey, I talked to the professor and told her you were sick. Feel free to sleep in," Pansy said kindly, patting Y/n's shoulder before making her way out of the room.

Y/n sighed in relief at Pansy's consideration, grateful for the chance to recover from the physical and emotional toll of the party. However, her brief respite was interrupted by the sound of movement from Mattheo's direction. He stirred awake, his presence a jarring reminder of their unresolved conflict.

"We're enemies again, Riddle. Deal with it," Y/n hissed, her voice laced with bitterness and fatigue.

Mattheo sat up slowly, his expression unreadable as he watched Y/n from across the room. His silence spoke volumes, a mixture of defiance and perhaps a hint of remorse flickering in his eyes.

Y/n turned away, not wanting to engage further with him in her current state. She pulled the covers over herself, seeking solace in the fleeting comfort of her bed and the solitude it offered.

Mattheo got up and walked over to Y/N, tossing her the Tylenol and a glass of water with a hint of impatience. "Here. It'll help with the headache," he said curtly, before returning to his bed with a dismissive sigh.

Y/N caught the items and glared at him. "You're impossible to read, you know that? One minute you're acting like you care, and the next, you're trying to impress your friends or something. It's like you're just messing with me."

Mattheo's gaze hardened as he looked at her. "I'm not here to cater to your feelings," he snapped. "If you're having trouble figuring me out, maybe that's because I don't owe you an explanation for how I act."

Y/N narrowed her eyes, feeling a surge of frustration. "And why exactly are you so determined to be a jerk? Is it because you enjoy making everyone else miserable, or are you just too scared to let anyone in?"

Mattheo's expression shifted slightly, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. "You think you have me all figured out? Maybe I'm not the one with the problem. Maybe it's easier for you to play the victim than to actually understand what's going on."

Y/N took a deep breath, her frustration mingling with a grudging sense of understanding. "You know, pushing people away doesn't make you look strong. It just makes you look scared. Maybe if you stopped trying to prove something, you'd actually be able to connect with people."

Mattheo's jaw tightened, but he didn't have a ready retort. There was a moment of tense silence before he muttered, "I didn't ask for your pity. Just... take the Tylenol."

Y/N's eyes softened slightly, despite the edge in her voice. "I'm not giving you pity. I'm just trying to make sense of this mess you've created. Maybe one day, you'll let someone in."

Mattheo looked away, the harshness in his eyes fading just a fraction. "Maybe."

Draco and Theodore burst into the room, causing Y/N to sit up with an irritated hiss. "Damn it, can't you knock before barging in?" she snapped, her annoyance clear.

Draco rolled his eyes, clearly unbothered by her reaction. "Relax, Y/N. It's not like we're interrupting anything important." He glanced over at Theodore, who gave Y/N a nod of acknowledgment before turning his attention back to Mattheo.

"Mattheo, we're waiting for you," Draco said impatiently, reaching over to yank Mattheo out of bed with a rough tug.

Mattheo shot Y/N a quick, almost apologetic look before reluctantly getting up. "I'll be right there," he muttered, following Draco and Theodore out of the room.

Y/N watched them go, her frustration simmering as she leaned back against the pillows. "Typical," she muttered to herself. "Just when things were starting to make some sense."

As Mattheo followed Draco and Theodore out of the room, he couldn't help but cast a final glance back at Y/N. She looked more resigned than angry now, her gaze distant as if lost in thought. The door swung shut behind them, cutting off the last view of her.

Draco led the way down the dimly lit corridor, his steps echoing with a practiced confidence. Theodore trailed behind, his usual calm demeanor slightly tense. "What's the rush?" Mattheo asked, trying to mask his curiosity with a touch of annoyance.

Draco shot him an impatient look. "We've got a meeting. The kind that doesn't wait for stragglers."

Mattheo's brow furrowed. "What's so important that you had to drag me out of bed? I was just—"

"Taking your sweet time," Draco cut him off sharply. "We're all in this together, remember? We don't have time for you to play the lone wolf."

Mattheo opened his mouth to retort but thought better of it. He knew better than to get into a heated argument with Draco, especially when he was in one of his moods. Instead, he grumbled under his breath and quickened his pace to catch up.

The three of them arrived at a large, dimly lit room where a group of their peers was already gathered. The air was thick with anticipation and the murmur of hushed conversations. As Mattheo entered, several eyes turned to him, their gazes ranging from curious to critical.

Draco, taking charge, walked up to a makeshift podium at the front of the room. "Alright, listen up," he called out, his voice cutting through the noise. "We need to get things sorted before we move forward. Mattheo, take a seat."

Mattheo took his place among the others, feeling the weight of their collective gaze. He glanced around, catching a few sidelong looks from the group, but kept his expression neutral. His thoughts drifted back to Y/N and their brief, charged conversation. He wondered what she was thinking and if she was as frustrated with him as he was with himself.

As Draco began outlining their plans, Mattheo's mind wandered, only half-focused on the details. He could still see Y/N's expression from earlier—her mix of irritation and reluctant understanding. Despite himself, he couldn't help but feel a pang of regret for how things had ended between them. Maybe Draco was right; maybe he was pushing everyone away out of fear or stubbornness.

The meeting continued, and while Mattheo tried to stay engaged, his thoughts kept returning to Y/N. What would it take for him to stop being so guarded? He didn't have the answer, but one thing was clear: he needed to figure things out, and soon.