Mattheo Riddle - Imagines/OneShot

Whispers of Amortentia

This story was requested and dedicated to @Aur0ra_l1ghts. I hope you like it! :)

Word Count: 882

I sat in Potions class, attempting to focus as Professor Slughorn droned on about the intricacies of love potions. The dimly lit room was filled with a heavy, almost spicy aroma that made my head spin a little. Today was all about Amortentia, the most powerful love potion in existence. It wasn't the sort of magic I usually paid attention to, but Slughorn's fascination with it was contagious.

"And who can tell me," Slughorn asked, eyes scanning the room," what Amortentia smells like?"

Hermione Granger, one of the smartest people in the class, shot up her hand immediately, and without waiting for acknowledgement, launched into explanation. "Amortentia doesn't have a single smell; it smells different to each person, based on what attracts them. It's supposed to be the things you find most alluring."

I listened, half-interested, but then something she said clicked. What attracts you. Slughorn grinned, nudging the cauldron toward us, and I leaned in, inhaling deeply. At first, the scents were hard to place, a strange combination of familiar and unexpected. Then, slowly, three distinct smells began to stand out.

The first scent was warm, like a crackling fireplace in winter, comforting and grounding. It reminded me of the Gryffindor common room, but with an added sense of mystery. The second smell was subtle, earthy and soft, like parchment mixed with fresh rain. And the third scent... it was intoxicating. A mix of cinnamon and cedarwood and cedarwood, combined with something sharper, almost like smoke. It was unlike anything I'd ever smelled before, yet somehow, it felt familiar. Strangely, it reminded me of... Mattheo Riddle.

The thought struck me like lightning. Mattheo? Why on earth would Amortentia remind me of him? I glanced over at his table, where he was focused on his own cauldron, his brows furrowed. Dark curls framed his face, his expression as intense as ever, and I couldn't deny he had an air of mystery and danger that was hard to ignore. But still...

Trying to shake the thought, I looked away, hoping no one noticed my confusion or my staring. I forced myself to think of anything else, but even when I tried, that smell-cinnamon and cedar, mingled with smoke-flooded back, more potent than before. My heart sped up, and I glanced at him again. This was ridiculous. Surely, I didn't feel anything for him, did I?

Just then Professor Slughorn announced it was time to switch partners. And to my surprise, Mattheo sauntered over to my table. He leaned casually against the bench, not looking my way, but stood close enough to the point I could smell that familiar scent-a mix of smokey cedar and something distinctly him. My heart sped up.

"Did you catch a whiff of something interesting?" he asked, his eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. There was a subtle, knowing smirk on his face, and it was as if he knew I'd just been thinking about him.

I hesitated, unsure what to say. "Uh...I think I smelled...parchment. And rain." I was avoiding his gaze, but I could feel him watching me intently.

"Parchment and rain?" he repeated, his voice low and teasing. "That's it? I thought everyone's Amortentia had three smells. What's the third one?"

Heat flooded my cheeks. I could tell he wasn't going to let this go. "Fine," I mumbled, "cinnamon and cedarwood."

At that, his eyebrows shot up, but he quickly masked his surprise with a casual shrug. "Interesting combination. So, you smell a cozy library?"

"Something like that," I muttered, hoping he couldn't read between the lines. But the look in his eyes told me he knew exactly what I meant.

To my surprise, he leaned in slightly, his tone softening. "You know, I caught a few scents myself. Want to know what they were?"

I nodded, eager to know what he smelt.

"The first one was vanilla," he started, his voice barely above a whisper, "like the smell of old books, but sweeter." He paused, his gaze intense, and I felt my pulse quicken.

"And the second?" I asked.

"Lavender," he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips, "Like fresh, wild lavender after a rainstorm."

I looked at him, tilting my head, waiting for him to go on. "And the third?"

He leaned closer, his face only inches from mine, his voice soft, to the point I could barely hear it. "It was firewood and honey. Like something sweet but just a little dangerous.

I held his gaze, the world around us seeming to fade. His words hung in the air, thick with unspoken meaning. Did he feel it too, this strange connection?

Before either of us could say another word, Slughorn called for the class's attention, jolting us back to reality. Mattheo pulled away, his expression unreadable as he returned to his desk. But his scent lingered, that unforgettable mix of cedar, smoke, and something that now felt dangerously close to desire.

As the lesson ended, I couldn't help but glance at him one last time. His eyes met mine across the room, and in that fleeting moment, I knew that whatever had sparked between us was far from over. The scents, the glances, the electricity-they couldn't just be coincidences.

As I gathered my things, a strange thought hit me: maybe, just maybe, Amortentia knew something about us that we didn't know ourselves.

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