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The dungeons of Hogwarts were quiet, almost too quiet. The air was thick with a tension that always seemed to hang over the Slytherin common room at night. Mattheo Riddle sat at a corner table, his dark curls shadowing his sharp features as he scribbled furiously into his notebook, lost in thought. His quill scratched against the parchment with precision, each stroke calculated and deliberate.
Across the room, Y/N sat curled up on one of the leather couches, their eyes drifting from the book in their lap to Mattheo's brooding form. He was always like this, intensely focused, his mind always racing a few steps ahead of everyone else's. Y/N admired that about him—his brilliance, his quiet power, the way he seemed to command the attention of the entire room without even trying.
But Mattheo wasn't just some dark figure shrouded in mystery. Not to Y/N, at least. Behind the cold mask he showed the world, there was something deeper—something vulnerable, even fragile, that very few people got to see. It was one of the reasons Y/N was drawn to him, why they spent so many late nights together, the silence between them comfortable yet charged with something unspoken.
Mattheo didn't have many people he trusted, but Y/N had earned a place in his world. Their connection was subtle, built over countless conversations, stolen glances, and quiet moments just like this one.
After a while, Y/N let out a soft sigh, snapping Mattheo from his reverie. He looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the sight of Y/N lounging on the couch, their face illuminated by the faint green light that filtered through the windows from the Black Lake.
"You're sighing," Mattheo said, his voice low and smooth, with that dark edge that always made Y/N's heart race. "That's usually a sign that you're thinking too much."
Y/N closed their book and met his gaze, a playful smile tugging at their lips. "Maybe I'm just bored. You've been over there plotting your next move for the past hour."
Mattheo's lips twitched into a smirk as he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. "You think I'm plotting something?"
Y/N raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. "You're always plotting something, Riddle. It's what you do."
Mattheo chuckled softly, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement. "You know me too well."
There was a beat of silence, the tension between them thickening as Y/N's heart thudded in their chest. It wasn't just the way Mattheo looked at them—it was the way he made them feel. Like he saw through every mask they wore, like he understood every thought that crossed their mind. He was brilliant, sharp, and cunning, but he was also something more. He was someone who had captured Y/N's heart long before they were ready to admit it.
"Come here," Mattheo said suddenly, his voice softer now, almost commanding.
Y/N hesitated for a moment, their pulse quickening at the intensity in his gaze. But they didn't resist. Slowly, they stood and crossed the room, settling into the chair beside him, their knee brushing against his under the table. Mattheo's presence was magnetic, his dark aura wrapping around them like a shadow, and they couldn't help but be drawn to him.
Mattheo's eyes never left theirs as he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "What's really on your mind, Y/N?"
Y/N swallowed hard, their heart pounding in their chest. There was something about the way Mattheo asked questions—like he already knew the answer, like he was just waiting for them to admit it. He had a way of drawing the truth out of people, of making them confront things they weren't ready to say aloud.
"I've just been thinking," Y/N admitted, their voice softer than they intended. "About us."
Mattheo's eyes darkened slightly, his expression unreadable. "What about us?"
Y/N hesitated again, unsure if they were ready to say what had been weighing on their mind for weeks now. But something about the way Mattheo was looking at them, the way his gaze held theirs so intensely, made it impossible to keep the truth hidden any longer.
"I feel like..." Y/N began, their voice faltering for a moment before they steadied themselves. "I feel like we've been dancing around something for a while now."
Mattheo's smirk faded, replaced by something more serious, more intense. He leaned in even closer, his breath warm against Y/N's skin. "Go on," he urged softly.
Y/N's heart raced as they met his gaze, their voice barely above a whisper. "I feel like there's more between us. More than just this...connection we have."
For a moment, Mattheo didn't respond. He just stared at them, his eyes flickering with something Y/N couldn't quite read. And then, slowly, he reached out, his hand gently cupping the side of their face.
"There's always been more between us," he murmured, his voice low and filled with an intensity that sent shivers down Y/N's spine. "I've known it for a long time."
Y/N's breath caught in their throat as Mattheo's thumb brushed against their cheek, his touch both soft and electrifying. They had always felt this pull toward him, this undeniable connection, but hearing him admit it—hearing him confirm what they had been feeling for so long—made their heart swell with a mixture of relief and longing.
"I just wasn't sure if you felt the same," Y/N admitted, their voice trembling slightly.
Mattheo's eyes softened, and he leaned in even closer, his lips just inches from theirs. "I do," he whispered, his voice filled with a quiet intensity. "I've always felt it."
Before Y/N could respond, Mattheo closed the distance between them, his lips capturing theirs in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, and filled with a kind of dark passion that made Y/N's heart race. His hand slid to the back of their neck, pulling them closer as the kiss deepened, the world around them fading into nothing.
The kiss was a slow burn, filled with all the unspoken emotions that had been simmering between them for so long. Y/N's hands found their way to Mattheo's chest, their fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as they kissed him back with equal intensity.
When they finally pulled apart, both of them breathless, Mattheo rested his forehead against theirs, his dark eyes still locked onto Y/N's. He let out a soft, almost shaky breath, his voice rough with a mix of relief and emotion.
"I've been waiting for this moment for what feels like forever," Mattheo confessed, his tone raw, as if he had been holding those words back for too long.
Y/N smiled softly, their heart swelling with warmth as they brushed a hand against his cheek. "Well, you didn't have to wait alone," they whispered, their voice tender, filled with the affection they had been keeping inside.
Mattheo let out a soft chuckle, his hand sliding down to gently cradle Y/N's cheek as he pressed a tender kiss to their forehead. "We're a perfect match, you and I," he said quietly, his voice filled with a kind of dark certainty. "And nothing's going to change that."
Y/N's heart soared at his words, and they knew in that moment that Mattheo was right. They were a perfect match—two brilliant, dark souls who had found each other in the chaos of the world around them. And as they sat there together, wrapped up in the warmth of each other's presence, Y/N knew that whatever came next, they would face it together.
