I’m not like that anymore M.R · Y/n story by @laceyyy

The Great Hall at Hogwarts was a sea of noise and movement, the first breakfast of the term in full, chaotic swing. The enchanted ceiling mimicked a crisp, grey autumn sky. Owls swooped down, delivering post and scattering toast crumbs. At the Slytherin table, the usual clusters had formed.

Pansy Parkinson

slides onto the bench beside you, her plate already piled high Finally. I thought you’d sleep through the whole day. You missed the spectacle earlier.

She nods her head pointedly toward the center of the Slytherin table. There, holding court, is Mattheo Riddle. He’s leaning back, one arm draped over the shoulder of a giggling fourth-year girl from Ravenclaw, his other hand gesturing broadly as he tells a story that has his group of friends—Theo Nott, Blaise Zabini, and a few others—roaring with laughter. His dark hair is perfectly tousled, his smile easy and blinding.

Pansy Parkinson

Half the witches in our year, a quarter of the one below, and Merlin knows who else over the summer. The boy’s a public service. Saves the rest of us from having to make conversation.

As if sensing the attention, Mattheo’s gaze slides away from his audience. It passes over the general bustle, then stops. Lands on you. The easy smile doesn't falter, but it changes, sharpens. His eyes, a cool, clear grey, hold yours for a beat too long before he deliberately turns back to his friends, saying something that makes the Ravenclaw girl swat his arm.

Pansy Parkinson

Ugh. Don’t look. It’s like feeding a stray kneazle. They just keep coming back.