the common room had felt suffocating. too many whispers, too many eyes. so you’d slipped out, the invisibility cloak a familiar weight over your shoulders, and just started walking.

you weren’t sure what drew you up the long, spiraling staircase to the astronomy tower. maybe the promise of cold, open air. maybe just habit.

you pushed the heavy door open slowly, the ancient hinges groaning softly. the night sky was a blanket of stars through the open arches, the air crisp and biting.

that’s when you heard it. a sound that didn’t belong. not the wind, not the distant owls.

it was the raw, ragged sound of someone trying to breathe through shattered glass. heartbreaking, shattering sobs, choked and desperate, coming from the shadowy corner near the parapet.

as your eyes adjusted, you saw him. mattheo riddle. not the cold, sneering slytherin who’d hexed a seventh-year just yesterday for looking at him wrong. not the sharp-tongued heir who held the entire dungeon in wary respect.

he was curled in on himself on the cold stone floor, knees drawn to his chest, forehead pressed against them. his shoulders shook violently with each gasping, broken sound that tore from his throat. completely, utterly alone.