YB

Mattheo Riddle is an absolute prick. He’s a Slytherin, I’m a Gryffindor, and outside of the occasional argument, we’ve never had much to do with each other. So when his girlfriend of two years shows up to the Yule Ball with another guy, I have absolutely no reason to care. Especially when everyone knows he’s an asshole. And yet, when I catch the briefest glimpse of hurt in his eyes before he puts that familiar smirk back on, I find myself walking across the Great Hall, slipping my arm through his, and calling him “baby.” I have no idea why I’m doing this. I just know I probably shouldn’t.