A Dance with Destiny

Chapter 8

As Diana wandered over to the snack table, her gaze flickered over the spread, and she smiled when she spotted exactly what she wanted. Fries. Nachos. Spicy chicken tenders. And, of course, lemonade. It wasn't the most glamorous choice, but it was her kind of comfort food. She grabbed a plate and began loading it up, her heart light as she piled the food on.

Mattheo watched her for a moment, amusement flickering in his eyes. He hadn't expected someone like Diana to go for the simple things—most people here would have chosen something fancier, more refined. But something was refreshing about the way she didn't try to impress anyone. She was just... herself.

"Going all out, huh?" Mattheo's voice broke through her thoughts, and she glanced up to find him leaning casually against the table, a smirk tugging at his lips. He was still holding his drink, but his attention was entirely on her, eyes glinting with a playful curiosity.

Diana's cheeks flushed slightly, and she looked down at her plate. "I know it's not very fancy, but I like what I like," she said, her voice teasing but a bit self-conscious, unsure if he was judging her for picking such simple foods when she could have chosen something more extravagant.

Mattheo chuckled softly, his gaze softening as he took in her shy expression. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you?" he said, his voice quiet but sincere. "I kind of like it though. Most people wouldn't go for nachos and spicy chicken tenders at a party like this."

Diana felt herself relax a little as he spoke, the tension she hadn't realized was building melting away. She shrugged with a small smile, taking a sip of her lemonade. "I don't really care about impressing anyone. I mean, I'm not here to put on a show for anyone. It's just food."

Mattheo studied her for a moment, his eyes darkening with something unreadable. "I'm starting to think you might be the most interesting person here," he said softly, his voice carrying a weight of sincerity that caught her off guard.

She giggled, the sound light and carefree as she took a bite of her fries. "I don't know about that," she replied, her eyes crinkling in amusement. "But thank you. That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me tonight."

For a moment, they both stood there in comfortable silence, the noise of the party swirling around them as Mattheo watched her, his smile softening. There was something so endearing about the way she was so unapologetically herself, not pretending to be anything she wasn't.

As Diana reached for the spicy chicken tenders, she looked up at Mattheo again, her eyes wide with curiosity. "So," she began, trying to keep the tone light, "What about you? What do you usually get at parties like this? I imagine you're not exactly here for the nachos and fries."

Mattheo's lips curled into a wry smile, his gaze never leaving hers. "No, I'm not exactly here for the nachos," he said, his voice smooth but with a hint of amusement. "I usually get whatever everyone else is having—champagne, wine, that kind of thing. But I'd rather be standing here talking to you than getting caught up in all the nonsense that goes on in the other rooms."

Diana raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the idea of him choosing to spend time with her over the usual party politics. "Really?" she asked, surprised by how genuine he seemed. "You're not at all interested in all the... usual Slytherin games?"

Mattheo shook his head, his expression growing a little more serious. "I've played those games for a long time. The power struggles, the expectations, the competition for attention—it's exhausting." He paused, his gaze softening. "I'd rather be with someone who doesn't care about any of that. Someone like you."

Diana felt her heart flutter, her hand pausing mid-reach as she processed his words. It was almost unbelievable—Mattheo Riddle, the Slytherin king, the person everyone adored and admired for his wealth and power—was telling her he'd rather spend time with her. She couldn't help the smile that spread across her face, a mix of warmth and wonder.

"Well," she said, her voice soft with a hint of playfulness, "If you keep saying things like that, you'll make me blush."

Mattheo's eyes flickered with amusement, the corner of his lips tugging up in that signature smirk she was beginning to recognize as a sign of his affection for her. "Would that be so bad?" he asked, stepping closer just slightly, his voice low and teasing.

Diana laughed, feeling a spark of excitement she hadn't anticipated. She turned her attention back to her plate, trying to distract herself from the warmth in her chest. She picked up a piece of chicken tender and took a bite, still feeling Mattheo's gaze on her. As she chewed, she paused to look at him, her eyes narrowing with sudden curiosity.

"Okay, but seriously," she said, chewing thoughtfully, "what do you really think of me? I know it's easy to say nice things to people, but... I mean, you barely know me. I don't want you saying all this just because you feel like you should."

Mattheo tilted his head, eyes flickering over her face with an expression that was both soft and serious as if considering her question carefully. "I'm not saying anything I don't mean," he replied slowly, his voice sincere. "I like you, Diana. I like who you are, and I like that you're not trying to be anything you're not. You're different from anyone else here. And I find that really... refreshing."

She felt her cheeks flush at his words, and she quickly looked down at her plate to hide it. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of her chewing and the faint hum of music in the background, but it was enough to know that she wasn't just another girl at a party for Mattheo. She was someone who mattered.

As she finished her last bite of food, Diana looked back up at him, her eyes softer now, the weight of his words settling over her like a warm, comforting blanket.

"Well," she said with a shy smile, "I'm glad we're on the same page."

Mattheo smiled, his expression genuine and pleased, his eyes holding that same intensity as before, but now there was something else there—a sense of understanding, of connection.

"Me too, Diana. Me too."