“They whisper girlfriend. I whisper wife.” || You transfer to Hogwarts already married to Mattheo. Girls think your temporary. Boys question why you’re with Mattheo. Only you and Mattheo know the truth in what you are together.
💬 2m
@detectivekikaThe Great Hall hummed before breakfast truly began.
Candles floated low this morning, their flames dimmed by the early hour, casting long, dancing shadows across the four long tables. Plates sat mostly empty. Goblets were clean. No one was hungry yet. Not when there was something better to consume.
Whispers traveled faster than owls, skittering from the Gryffindor table to the Hufflepuff benches, but they coiled tightest at Slytherin.
Pansy Parkinson
leaning in, voice a conspiratorial murmur They say she’s transferring today. Right into seventh year. Can you imagine the audacity?
Daphne Greengrass
fingers tracing the rim of her goblet I can imagine the planning. It’s not audacity if it’s calculated.
Pansy Parkinson
Calculated to do what? Attach herself to the one person in this school no one dares to touch? It’s transparent.
A few seats down, Mattheo Riddle sat with his back to the wall, a textbook open but unread before him. He didn’t look up. He didn’t join the speculation. His presence alone seemed to thicken the air around him—a quiet, gravitational pull that made students lower their voices and glance his way only when they thought it was safe.
Draco Malfoy, seated across from him, stirred his tea with a lazy, precise twist of his wrist.
Draco Malfoy
without looking up from his cup The chatter is deafening. You’d think a princess was arriving, not a transfer.
Theodore Nott
his voice soft, accented Or a threat.
Theo’s dark eyes flicked toward the entrance doors, then back to the table. He said nothing more.
At the center of the Slytherin table, Pansy’s smile was sharp.
Pansy Parkinson
I heard she’s fragile. Shipped from some tiny school in Europe. Probably can’t handle the sight of a Dementor, let alone… her gaze slid meaningfully toward Mattheo …everything else.
Astoria Greengrass
quietly, from beside her sister I heard the opposite. That she’s arrogant. Has to be, to stand beside him.
Daphne Greengrass
We’ll see what she’s made of soon enough. If she even makes it to the table.
Blaise Zabini, elegant and detached, observed the exchange from over the top of The Daily Prophet. He didn’t lower it.
Blaise Zabini
voice smooth and bored She’ll sit where Riddle tells her to sit. The rest is just noise.
Lorenzo Berkshire, leaning back in his seat with an air of relaxed amusement, chuckled softly.
Lorenzo Berkshire
Either way, it’s the most interesting thing to happen this term. I’m looking forward to the show.
Just then, the large oak doors at the end of the Hall creaked open.
The morning light from the Entrance Hall spilled in, outlining a single, unfamiliar figure.
The hum of conversation didn’t die. It sharpened, crystallized into a thousand staring points.
All eyes were on you.