Slytherin Boys x Y/N Short Stories/Reacts

Stalker #FOUR

Y/N's day had been long, the bustle of Diagon Alley keeping her occupied until dusk. It was late when she finally headed home, the cobbled streets deserted, save for the occasional flicker of candlelight through the windows. She pulled her cloak tighter against the evening chill, feeling a shiver run down her spine, but she couldn't place why.

The first incident had been so insignificant, she hardly thought twice about it. A single white rose, left on her doorstep. No note. No indication of where it came from. Y/N assumed it was a mistake—perhaps someone delivering to the wrong house. But the next day, there was another. This time, tucked carefully into the fold of her cloak, though she could not recall anyone coming close enough to do so.

Her friends found it amusing, teasing her about a secret admirer. "Maybe it's someone from work," they suggested. "Someone too shy to make the first move." Y/N laughed along with them, but deep down, the feeling unsettled her.

Then came the letters.

At first, they were innocent enough. Compliments written on crisp parchment, delivered without a name or signature. You look radiant today. I've always admired your smile.

It should have been flattering. Instead, it sent a creeping sense of unease through her. Someone was watching her. Someone knew her habits, her routines. The letters were placed where only she would find them—on her windowsill, outside her office at the Ministry, once even slipped into her bag without her noticing.

"Maybe it's Enzo," Pansy had mused one evening over drinks. "He's always been the brooding type, never very forward."

Y/N thought about it. Enzo could be reserved, certainly. But this? This didn't feel like him. He was too practical, too distant to play such a game.

"Or Theo," Pansy continued with a smirk. "He's always had a soft spot for you."

Y/N's stomach twisted. Theo was sweet, but there was something too calculated about the notes. Theo wasn't the type to linger in the shadows. If he had feelings for her, he would say it outright.

And then there was Regulus. Some suggested it might be him, with his cool, detached nature. But no—Regulus was far too proud for this kind of anonymous courtship.

The mystery dragged on for weeks. Flowers, letters, fleeting glimpses of someone just out of sight when she left her home. It gnawed at her. The sense of being watched grew stronger. Every step she took felt as though it was shadowed by another. She'd hear the faintest rustle behind her, the echo of footsteps on cobblestones when she was sure she was alone.

One night, Y/N returned home after another exhausting day at work. The lights in her house flickered dimly, casting long shadows across the room as she entered. A chill settled over her as she realized the window in her bedroom was open, curtains fluttering in the breeze.

Heart pounding, she approached cautiously. On her bed was another note, the ink darker than before, the handwriting more rushed. I'm closer than you think.

Y/N's breath hitched in her throat. This wasn't admiration anymore. It was a warning.

She immediately thought of contacting someone. Perhaps Enzo or Theo—someone she could trust. But the fear of not knowing who the stalker was kept her isolated, wary of turning to anyone for help. Every time she passed one of them, she couldn't help but wonder: Could it be him?

The next morning, she found the lock on her front door broken. Nothing had been taken, but a single flower had been left on the kitchen table. A red rose this time. A sign that whoever was behind this was growing bolder.

Terrified, Y/N started to stay away from her house at night. She'd linger at the Leaky Cauldron or take long walks by the river, hoping the fresh air would clear her mind. But the presence followed her everywhere. No matter how far she walked or how many alleys she ducked into, that eerie feeling of being observed never left.

Once, she caught a glimpse of a figure from the corner of her eye—a shadow lurking just beyond the bend of the street. But when she turned, no one was there.

The letters grew more unsettling, more possessive. You belong to me. No one else will ever have you.

Her stomach churned with each new message. She began to suspect everyone around her, scrutinizing every interaction, every glance. Could it be Regulus? His quiet demeanor had always made him hard to read, but she didn't think he'd go this far. Maybe it was Theo, his lingering smiles and watchful eyes now seeming more sinister than affectionate.

Or perhaps it was someone she hadn't thought of yet, someone from her past.

The climax came on a stormy evening. Y/N had been holed up in a small inn on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, desperate to escape the suffocating feeling of being hunted. The rain beat against the windows as thunder rumbled in the distance.

She sat by the fire, her mind swirling with fear and confusion, when a loud knock echoed through the empty hallways of the inn.

Y/N froze. Her wand clenched tightly in her hand, she approached the door cautiously. She hesitated before opening it, every nerve in her body on edge.

There was no one there.

But as she glanced down, she saw it: a letter, resting on the ground at her feet.

Hands trembling, she picked it up and unfolded the parchment.

The ink was bold, almost angry this time. It's time.

Y/N's heart thundered in her chest. She glanced around wildly, the feeling of being trapped swallowing her whole. She couldn't take it anymore. Whoever this was—whoever had been tormenting her for weeks—they were close. Too close. She had to know.

Clutching the letter, she raced out of the inn, into the pouring rain, eyes scanning the darkened streets for any sign of her stalker. The wind howled, whipping her cloak around her as her boots splashed through puddles.

Then, she saw him.

A figure standing just at the edge of the alleyway, hood pulled low, cloak billowing in the wind. For a moment, Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her mind racing as she tried to place the familiar stance, the shape of his frame.

It couldn't be...

He stepped forward, just enough for the lantern light to catch his face.

Her blood ran cold as the truth settled in, unmistakable now.

It had been Mattheo all along.

Y/N stared at Mattheo, her pulse racing as she took in the familiar, yet menacing expression on his face. Raindrops trickled down his hood, but his gaze remained fixed, intense and unyielding.

"Why?" she whispered, voice barely audible over the storm. "Why have you been following me? I thought I left... us... behind."

Mattheo's lips twisted into a faint smile, one that held a hint of bitterness. "Did you really think you could forget me that easily, Y/N?" His voice was soft but laced with a possessive edge. "You may have walked away, but I never did. I told you once—you belong to me. I meant it."

A shiver ran through her, but this time, it wasn't just from the cold.