The Serpant's Heart (Mattheo Riddle)

The Chilling Gaze: Understanding Unspoken Threats

There was something about Mattheo Riddle that made her skin crawl, something beyond the usual annoyance she felt towards him. It wasn't just his smug grin or the way his eyes danced with mischief as he played his dirty tricks. No, it was something deeper, a chilling coldness that seemed to bore into her very essence whenever their gazes met. It was a look that sent shivers down her spine, hinting at secrets and schemes she didn't dare imagine.

Mattheo Riddle was a man of few words, but when he spoke, his voice was smooth as silk, yet as sharp as a knife. His words had the power to cut through the noise of the Great Hall, drawing everyone's attention like a magnet. He was tall and lean, with a sharp jawline and piercing eyes that seemed to see right through people. His clothes were always slightly disheveled, as if he'd just stepped out of a brawl or a lady's boudoir, and there was an air of danger that clung to him like the scent of rain before a storm.

The Great Hall grew quiet as he approached her table, his boots echoing on the wooden floor. She felt his presence before she saw him, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. Her friends, caught up in their own conversations, didn't seem to notice the shift in the atmosphere, but she did. The way his eyes locked on her, the smugness in his smile, it was all too familiar. She braced herself, knowing that whatever he had to say wasn't going to be good.

SUMMARY^1: Mattheo Riddle's eerie presence and cold gaze unsettles her, setting him apart from the usual annoyance she feels towards him. His rare yet impactful words and sharp attire carry an aura of danger, and his approach to her table at the Great Hall causes a tension that silences the room. She anticipates bad news as he focuses solely on her.

"Good evening, Miss..." he began, pausing dramatically as if her name had slipped his mind. "McCauley, isn't it?"

Her heart skipped a beat, but she kept her composure, raising an eyebrow. "It is," she replied coolly, her voice as smooth as ice. "What do you want, Riddle?"

Mattheo leaned against the table, his gaze never leaving hers. "Just passing by, thought I'd say hello." His tone was light, but there was a challenge in his eyes.

Lennon felt the heat rising in her cheeks. "Well, hello," she said, her voice laced with sarcasm. "Is there something I can do for you?"

Mattheo's smile grew wider, revealing a hint of amusement. "As a matter of fact, there is. I need your help with something. A... little puzzle, if you will."

Lennon's stomach twisted. She knew better than to trust Riddle, but her curiosity was piqued. "What kind of puzzle?"

Mattheo leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear. "The kind that could change everything," he murmured, his eyes glinting. "But I can't tell you here. Too many ears." He straightened up, his grin widening. "Meet me tonight, under the willow tree by the pond. After curfew."

Lennon's heart raced as she considered his proposal. It was risky, but she had always been one to face a challenge head-on. She nodded curtly. "Fine," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "But don't be late."

Riddle addresses Lennon with feigned forgetfulness, which she matches with cool sarcasm. He presents a mysterious puzzle, proposing a clandestine meeting under the willow tree by the pond after curfew. Despite her wariness, Lennon agrees to the rendezvous, driven by curiosity and the potential for significant change.

The evening dragged on, the hours feeling like an eternity as she waited for the clock to strike eleven. Her friends had noticed her distraction, shooting her concerned glances, but she had brushed them off with a forced smile. When the final bell tolled, she excused herself, feigning a headache to avoid their questions. She knew they wouldn't understand, wouldn't want her to go. But she had to. Something was pulling her towards the willow tree, and she couldn't ignore it.