A heart beneath the mark

25. Part

Hannah's POV

It had been almost a week since I stumbled upon Mattheo's letter in the library, and still, the words clung to me like smoke that refused to clear. I carried them in the back of my mind everywhere I went, no matter how many times I told myself to forget, to let them rot where they belonged.
And yet, every time I opened my bag and my fingers brushed against the folded parchment hidden in my notebook, my chest tightened.
But that night, I wasn't thinking about Mattheo Riddle. Or at least, I was trying not to.
Because Callum Ashbridge had just asked me to sneak out with him.

"Are you serious?" I whispered as we paused at the base of the Astronomy Tower staircase, the torches flickering shadows across the stone walls. "If we get caught—"
"We won't," Callum interrupted, a lopsided grin spreading across his face. "Trust me."
I folded my arms. "That's exactly what people say right before disaster."
"Exactly," he teased. "Which makes it fun."
I rolled my eyes, but my lips tugged at the corners despite myself. He had this way of diffusing the heaviness that sat inside me, pulling me out of my thoughts without even trying. It wasn't forced. It wasn't sharp-edged or manipulative. It was simply... kind.
"Why here?" I asked as we climbed.
"You'll see."
The staircase seemed endless, spiraling higher and higher until the castle fell away beneath us. By the time we reached the top, the night air hit me—cold, sharp, tinged with the faint smell of rain. Callum pushed the heavy wooden door open and gestured for me to step out.
And when I did, my breath caught.

The sky stretched above us in a sweep of velvet black, scattered with stars that burned like silver fire. The towers of Hogwarts rose in jagged silhouettes against the horizon, and below us, the lake reflected faint ripples of moonlight. It was like stepping into another world, far removed from everything pressing down inside me.
"Wow," I murmured.
Callum leaned against the stone railing, his green eyes glinting under the starlight. "Worth the risk?"
I joined him at the ledge, hugging my cloak tighter around myself. "Maybe."
For a while, we stood in silence. Not an uncomfortable one, but the kind that felt... easy. He didn't rush to fill it, didn't demand anything from me. Just let the night speak for itself.
Then, after a pause, he tilted his head. "Do you come up here often?"
I shook my head. "Not really. Too many memories."
"Good ones?"
I hesitated. "Not exactly."
He didn't press. Just nodded slowly, like he understood. Like he always understood.
The quiet stretched again until I finally whispered, "Do you ever feel like you're not really part of anything? Like everyone else is moving forward, and you're just... stuck?"
Callum's gaze softened. "More times than I can count."
I glanced at him. "And what do you do?"
"Climb towers in the middle of the night," he said with a small smile. "And find people who make it feel a little less lonely."

Heat rose to my cheeks, and I looked away quickly, focusing on the constellations scattered above. The stars blurred slightly, and I realized my eyes had welled with tears I hadn't meant to shed.
Before I could brush them away, Callum's hand was there—hesitant, gentle—brushing a thumb along my cheekbone.
I froze.
Not because it felt wrong. But because it felt... safe.
And safety was something I hadn't felt in a very long time.
"You don't have to hide, Hannah," he said softly. "Not with me."
My breath caught in my throat. His words weren't dramatic, weren't dripping with promises he couldn't keep. They were simple. Honest.
And for a terrifying, fleeting second, I thought—maybe this is what I've been craving all along. Not the chaos, not the sharp edges, not the endless cycle of hurting and being hurt. Just this. Just someone who noticed when I was about to fall apart.
"Callum..." I started, but my voice cracked.
He shook his head gently, like he didn't need me to explain. His hand fell back to the railing, leaving my skin tingling where he'd touched it.
We stood so close that our shoulders brushed, and I let myself lean ever so slightly into that warmth. Just for a moment. Just long enough to remember what it felt like to be held up instead of torn down.
And then—

A shift in the air. A weight in the silence.
I didn't have to look to know.
Somewhere in the shadows at the base of the tower, someone was there. Watching.
The hair on my arms stood on end, and when I finally turned, my stomach lurched.

Mattheo Riddle.

His dark silhouette leaned against the stone archway, his face half-lit by moonlight, expression unreadable—but his eyes... God, his eyes burned.
He wasn't supposed to be here. He wasn't supposed to see this.
But he did.
And the way his jaw tightened, the way his fists curled at his sides—I knew this wasn't going to end quietly.
My chest constricted, torn between the safety beside me and the gravity of him, always pulling, always dragging me back into the storm I swore I'd escape.
Callum followed my gaze, his posture tensing instantly. "Friend of yours?" he asked carefully.
But I couldn't answer.
Because I was too busy drowning in the look Mattheo Riddle gave me—like I had betrayed something I never agreed to keep.
The night air pressed in heavy, the stars suddenly sharper, colder.
And I realized with a jolt of fear and something else I didn't dare name—this was only the beginning.