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The sun had just barely risen above the horizon, shining a pale light on the old stone walls of the Slytherin dorms. Y/n sat in her usual spot by the window and let her gaze wander over the mist that drifted across Hogwarts.
Everything seemed quiet and still. Except for the soft sound of wings fluttering outside.
She recognized it before she saw it. The same snow white owl she had become all too familiar with over the past few months was sitting on the windowsill. Its golden eyes were boring into hers. Her heart clenched. Another letter.
Y/n swallowed hard and opened the big window to let in a cold autumn breeze. The owl, elegant and silent, dropped the letter into her hands before flying into the fog. It disappeared quickly into the morning mist.
Her fingers trembled slightly as they redrawn the familiar dark ink. The handwriting was elegant, but the strokes were sharp, on purpose. She hesitated for a moment and stared at her name written across the front.
𝒴/𝓃ℒ/𝓃
It was always the same. No name, no signature, just this mysterious handwriting.
She took a deep breath, slipped her finger under the red stamp and opened it carefully. A single piece of paper slid out and her eyes skimmed over the familiar words:
Her stomach Immediately flipped. A mixture of fear and something else, something she didn't want to admit, was running through her. She had been getting these letters for weeks now and although the contents were simple, the underlying tone was unsettling.
Someone was watching her. Closely.
Her thoughts raced, trying to piece it all together. She had no idea who this person could be. She thought of her friends in Slytherin, even her classmates. But none of them seemed the type to send letters like this. And none of them would be so bold as to openly call themselves her stalker.
The letters were not constant. Sometimes they came daily and sometimes weeks went by without a word. But each time they seemed to know exactly where she had been, what she had been doing, as if this mysterious figure was always waiting just out of sight.
Y/n's fingers tightened around the small letter. The boldness. The audacity to admit it so openly and without fear. And yet there was something else. A sense of intimacy in the words, as if they were written not out of meanness but out of desire.
I missed you. I missed you. I missed you.
The words hung in her head, clinging to her thoughts like a ghost she couldn't shake off. She didn't want to feel it but she did. A strange attraction to whoever it was, desperate though she was.
Maybe it was the mystery, the dangerous attraction of the unknown. Or maybe it was something deeper.
And then her thoughts flickered to a person. A name that had crossed her mind more than once during her sleepless nights, even though she tried to block it out.
Mattheo Riddle.
The son of Voldemort. Infamous in Slytherin for his cold manner, his cold charm and the darkness that seemed to follow him wherever he went. He was fucking brilliant but there was something dangerous about him. Something that made her skin prickle as soon as he entered the room.
She had never had more than short conversations with him, distant words exchanged in the common room or during class.
Still, his gaze sometimes lingered on her a moment too long. His dark eyes were watching her with a quiet intensity that she could never completely shake off.
Soon, we will meet again.
The words from the letter echoed in her head as her mind connected the dots. This was him. It had to be him. The quiet, watchful presence, the clever smile when no one was looking, the way he seemed to know more about her than anyone else.
Her chest tightened as a rush of adrenaline shot through her. Had she just imagined it? Or had she just uncovered the truth?
A knock at the door snapped her out of her thoughts and her heart pounded in her throat.
„Y/n?" The voice was deep and familiar. Mattheo's voice.
Her pulse quickened as she put the letter in her pocket and turned towards the door. It was still too early for someone to visit the dorm. And he had never come to her like this before.
She opened the door with a shaky hand and there he stood. He was leaning casually against the doorframe, a grin playing around his lips. His dark curls fell loosely into his forehead and his sharp eyes, oh those haunting eyes, met hers.
„Miss me?" Mattheo asked softly. His voice sounded like velvet, with the same teasing tone as always but this time it was different. It was personal.
Her mouth went dry. She opened her mouth to reply but no words came out. His eyes flickered to her hand. Where the edge of the letter stuck out of her pocket and then back to her face. Amusement danced in his gaze.
„You got my letter, I see," he murmured, his grin deepening.
Her breath came in gasps. There it was. The confirmation she had feared and longed for. He stepped closer. His presence was overwhelming, choking and thrilling at the same time.
„What do you want?" she managed to whisper, but her voice betrayed her, trembling slightly.
Mattheo's eyes darkened as he leaned towards her. His lips were brushing her ear as he spoke. His breath felt warm on her skin.
„To watch," he whispered. „To know you're completely mine, Y/n."
And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing there, her heart racing and her mind spinning. The weight of his words hanging heavy in the air.
