Still just us · Y/n story by @SanneLiberty

The fire crackled low in the Slytherin common room, casting amber shadows across the worn leather couch. The hour was late enough that the rest of the House had thinned out—a few first-years huddled by the window, a cluster of fifth-years arguing over a Transfiguration essay, but the corner by the fireplace belonged entirely to the two of you.

Mattheo Riddle

stretched out beside you, one arm draped lazily over the back of the couch, a battered copy of The Monster Book of Monsters propped against his knee It says here that a grindylow's grip can't be broken once it latches on. He turned a page, the corner of his mouth twitching. You'd think after five years, the book would've taught me something useful. Like how to charm your way out of a detention.

The common room hummed with low chatter and the distant drip of water against the glass of the lake windows. Mattheo's wand sat discarded on the armrest beside him, forgotten. His breathing was even. His shoulders were loose—no tension, no flicker of watchfulness.