Faer • Mattheo Riddle

6.0

3 weeks had passed since that night, and Mattheo had vanished without a trace. It was as if he had never been there, like the shadows had swallowed him whole. 

Everyone wondered where he had gone, whispered rumors trailing through the halls. 

Even Draco asked questions, but I knew better. I knew why he was gone. His father had called him, summoned him for whatever task or trial awaited him in the dark. 

It was always that way for us, wasn't it? We never got to leave.

Sitting in the library now, the quiet hum of the space did little to soothe the chaotic churn of my thoughts. The ink from my quill smudged on the parchment as I tried, and failed, to finish my Defense Against the Dark Arts essay. 

My head throbbed from a lack of sleep, my focus scattered.

Pansy, as usual, was beside me, her presence as loud and distracting as ever. She'd been rambling for the past half hour about some boy she had her eye on, her words bubbling with excitement.

 I hadn't been paying much attention, barely offering a nod here and there, my mind elsewhere.

"Faer, are you even listening?" Pansy's sharp voice cut through my thoughts, snapping me back to reality.

I blinked and glanced at her. "Yeah... something about that guy from Potions?"

Pansy groaned, rolling her eyes. "Never mind him. There's something else." Her tone shifted, quieter now, almost hesitant. That caught my attention.

I turned toward her, arching a brow. "What is it?"

She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, glancing around the room as if afraid someone might overhear. 

Her nervousness was palpable, and it made me sit up straighter, my own curiosity piquing. Pansy Parkinson didn't get nervous easily.

"I... I'm bi, Faer," she whispered finally, her voice barely audible. "I like both guys and girls."

The words hit me like a stone dropping into still water, rippling through me in silence.

 I stared at her, the confession sinking in. For a moment, I didn't know how to respond. It wasn't that I was shocked—it was Pansy after all—but I hadn't expected her to share something so deeply personal. 

She never did that.

My silence stretched on, and I could see the uncertainty in her eyes deepen, the way her shoulders tensed. 

"I didn't... I didn't know how to tell you," she admitted, her voice breaking slightly as she stared down at her hands, fidgeting nervously. "I thought you might... I don't know, think differently of me."

Her words, her vulnerability, caught me off guard. Pansy was always so sure of herself, so bold. Seeing her like this was... strange. And it made me uncomfortable, too.

 Comfort wasn't something I knew how to offer. Not in a way that felt genuine, at least. No one had ever shown me how to, not growing up. 

Not ever.

"I... why would I think differently of you?" I said finally, my voice stiff, unsure.