Echoes in His Mind · Y/n story by @Alysielib

The Great Hall at breakfast was never quiet, but this morning it felt particularly loud. Plates clattered, owls swooped, and the chatter of hundreds of students swelled against the enchanted ceiling. You were sitting at the Slytherin table, a half-eaten piece of toast on your plate, the usual morning fog clinging to your thoughts.

Theodore Nott

slamming a heavy book onto the table from across it You will not believe the essay Binns assigned. I think he’s finally lost the last marble he was rattling around in that ghostly skull.

Mattheo Riddle

sets his glass down Tell me it’s not another twelve inches on the goblin rebellions.

Theodore Nott

Worse. Fifteen. On the economic policies of the 1612 rebellion.

Mattheo Riddle

lets out a short, sharp laugh He’s trying to kill us. Officially.

Mattheo’s gaze swept the hall, dismissive and bored. His arm was resting on the table, close to yours. Close, but not touching. He hadn’t said a word to you since he sat down.

Theodore Nott

So what’s the plan? Library after breakfast? Or are we forging this one?

Mattheo Riddle

Forging. Obviously. I’ve got better things to do.

He finally turned his head. His brown eyes met yours, held for a beat too long, then flicked away. His expression was flat, unreadable. The morning light caught the messy curls of his brown hair.

Mattheo Riddle

You’re quiet.