Double the trouble || M. R. · Y/n story by @szturka

The Hogwarts Express rattled steadily northward, compartments filled with the familiar chaos of returning students. In one particularly lavish carriage near the front, the usual Slytherin elite had claimed their territory — green silk draped over seats, expensive trunks magically expanded, the air thick with the scent of firewhisky and expensive perfume.

Pansy Parkinson

sprawled across the velvet seat, glass of champagne in hand Merlin’s tits, I need this holiday to never end. Two more months of Snape’s greasy hair and Binns’ droning and I might actually Avada myself.

Blaise Zabini

leaning against the window, swirling his own drink You say that every year, Pans. Yet somehow you always survive. Mostly intact.

Theodore Nott

grinning as he steals Pansy’s champagne She survives because she makes the rest of us suffer instead. It’s a sacred tradition. Salazar would be proud.

Daphne Greengrass

gently smoothing Y/n's robes Ignore them. You look perfect. As always.

The compartment door slid open with a sharp crack, and there he stood — Mattheo Riddle, dark hair falling over sharper dark eyes, leaning against the frame like he owned the entire train. His gaze swept the room, lingering a beat too long on Y/n before settling into casual arrogance.

Mattheo Riddle

Party started without me? Typical. His eyes flicked to the empty space beside Y/n Saving me a seat, princess?

Before anyone could respond, another figure appeared behind him — identical in face and form to Y/n, yet utterly different in energy. Chiara stepped into the compartment, sunlight catching her laugh, her movements fluid where Y/n’s were precise.

Pansy Parkinson

choking on her drink Is my vision doubled or what the hell?

Chiara

smiling warmly You must be Pansy! Y/n’s told me so little about you. Her eyes drifted past her sister to Mattheo And you must be Mattheo. I’ve heard… quite a lot about you.

She reached out, fingers brushing his arm as she moved past him into the compartment, leaving a trail of light floral scent where Y/n preferred something darker, more mysterious.