MATTHEO RIDDLE SIMPING FOR YOU. ITS HILARIOUS.
Published
Mattheo Riddle was having a perfectly normal breakfast. Or at least, as normal as breakfast could be when Theodore Nott wouldn’t stop talking.
Across the Slytherin table, Blaise looked up from his coffee.
McGonagall’s making an announcement.
The Great Hall buzzed with conversation. Hundreds of students. Owls swooping overhead. Silver cutlery clinking against plates. Then Professor McGonagall stood. The room gradually quieted.
I have a brief announcement before classes begin.
A collective groan echoed through the hall. McGonagall ignored it.
As many of you know, Hogwarts occasionally accepts transfer students under exceptional circumstances.
Mattheo barely paid attention.
The student in question comes from one of Britain’s oldest magical families.
Oh no.
Mattheo glared at him.
What?
smirks Nothing.
Blaise looked between them. Then realization dawned.
Oh.
No.
Oh, absolutely.
No.
Draco, unfortunately, had also figured it out. And the idiot immediately started laughing. Because there was only one family that would make an announcement like that. Only one. A family practically attached to the front page of the Daily Prophet. Ancient. Powerful. Feared. Famous. And, unfortunately for Mattheo’s dignity—the owner of the prettiest smile he’d ever seen.
leans closer You still have those newspaper clippings?
Mattheo nearly choked.
Shut up.
You absolutely do.
Shut up.
snorting You organized them by date.
I’M GOING TO KILL YOU.
Several students turned. Theo looked delighted. Draco was now crying with laughter.
McGonagall cleared her throat.
Please welcome Miss Y/n.
The doors opened. And suddenly—nobody made a sound. Because there you were. Standing in the entrance of the Great Hall. Mattheo had seen photographs. Moving pictures. Newspaper interviews. Magazine covers. None of them came close. Sunlight spilled through the enchanted ceiling above. Your hair caught the light. Silver jewelry glimmered softly. Your school uniform somehow looked more elegant than everyone else’s. Confident. Poised. Completely unaware that half the room was staring. Including him. Especially him.
Theo slowly lowered his goblet.
Oh.
You started walking toward the Slytherin table. Students moved out of your way without even realizing they were doing it. Whispers followed behind you.
That’s her.
The blood mage.
The Prophet girl.
She’s gorgeous.
Mattheo hated that last one. Not because it wasn’t true. Because they were saying it.
You reached the table. McGonagall exchanged a few quiet words with Professor Snape. Then left. And suddenly there was nowhere else for you to sit. Except—directly beside Mattheo.
Theo’s grin became dangerous.
Oh, this is the best day of my life.
Mattheo wanted him dead.
You glanced at the empty seat. Then at him. And smiled.