11. ᴅᴇᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ

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 The end result was this- Draco, Theo, Hermione, and Ron would be joining Mattheo and myself for our first detention, and Mattheo would receive another detention on top of the four detentions he already had under his belt. Not to mention the hundreds of points that were knocked out of each of our respective Houses, a staggering one hundred for each perpetrator- "Three hundred points from both Slytherin and Gryffindor!" McGonagall shouted furiously, then paused when Hermione pointed out that it should only be two hundred from Gryffindor, not three hundred. McGonagall then made a hasty apology to Harry for having accidentally counted him as a wrongdoer, but then stated it wasn't her fault that this just happened to be the one and only time Harry hadn't been at the center of it all.

Which is how I've ended up in the dungeons at ten o' clock at night on an otherwise perfectly pleasant Tuesday evening. The rest of those who've received detentions are here as well, and Snape separates us into groups to have us complete varying levels of undesirable tasks for him. Theo and Hermione get cauldron-scrubbing duty in the Potions classroom, Draco and Ron are made to sort through pickled salamanders in Snape's office, while Mattheo and I are dumped in a different room entirely to complete the strenuous and detailed work of plucking the wings off of buckets of lacewing flies. Which is a better thing than what Draco and Ron have gotten stuck with, but nothing so easy as the task Snape has given to Theo and Hermione. He's clearly showing preferential treatment to the only two students in our entire year who haven't yet managed to piss him off in our Defense classes with a stupid answer or ten.

Twenty minutes in, and my hands are already shaking. The needle-pin pricking in my arms hasn't fully left me yet, so attempting something that requires incredibly precise and gentle movements is proving to be near impossible. While Mattheo plucks the wings off each fly with smooth motions, I end up ripping up the wings of half a dozen before I come to the conclusion that this is never going to work.

"Stop overreacting," Mattheo mutters bitterly. "It's not that bad."

"Not that bad?" I laugh. "How the bloody fuck would you know?"

"I know you went to Pomfrey earlier today. Stop whining about it."

"Whining? You let me plummet two hundred feet through the air!"

"I caught you, didn't I?"

"And the fact that you think that deserves praise-"

"You set me on fire!"

"I set your robes on fire, you dramatic prick!"

"Now who's dwelling on the technicalities?"

"Fuck you, Riddle," I spit out. "You're a real piece of work, you know that?"

He scoffs and shakes his head. "At least I'm not the one who killed their roommate's brother."

My hand connects with his cheek, a stinging blow, one that has his head turning ninety degrees to his left. Mattheo stays like that, completely frozen save for the storm of fury brewing behind his eyes.

"You're just like your father," I whisper.

And that's the breaking point.

The wall collides with the back of my skull as Mattheo holds me there, pinning me in place by my throat. "Say that again," he seethes. "Say it!"

Stars, blurring my vision as wave after wave of panic overtakes me. I can't get enough air to my lungs, every breath I take is a ragged gasp- "Lost your tongue?" he sneers. "Go on, sweetheart, say it again."

"Look- At you," I choke out. "You're only- Proving me- Right."

Just as my sight clouds over, he releases me, and I go crumbling onto the floor. I'm Desperately gulping down one breath after the next, trying to make up for the air I missed, Mattheo pulls me back onto my feet and I realize I'm actually shaking- My body's way of telling me that I should be frightened, terrified of the boy in front of me... That I always should have been.

Too bad for the both of us that my mind is too damaged to recognize the danger when it feels it.

I land a hard kick to his shin, but Mattheo only grits his teeth and forces me into the nearest chair. And there he stands, with his hands wrapped around the arms of my chair, leaning in as close as he dares and murmuring, "What did it feel like?"

"Wh-What?"

"Killing them." There's a manic glint in his eyes, one too familiar as it's the same one I see in a mirror every day. "All those people. How did it feel?"

Bad timing, but I suddenly become aware of how closely his lips are hovering above mine. If he notices, however, he doesn't let it show.

"I can't remember."

He grabs my chin. Tilts it up so that I'm looking directly at him. "A proper answer, Y/n."

"Why even ask?" I laugh softly. "I'm sure you would know loads more than I ever could."

I wouldn't have believed it if I didn't see it with my own eyes. But Mattheo's confidence falters, and in that split second, he lets his mask slip.

"Merlin," I breathe in realization. "You've never killed anyone before."

"Don't," he swallows.

"Mattheo, have you ever even used the Cruciatus Curse before?"

"I said, that's enough."

"You don't even hate Muggle-borns, do you? You just hate everyone equally, there's no bias involved at all-"

"STOP!" Mattheo roars, his voice splitting in two. "Just- Stop," he chokes, and I'm too stunned by the sight of tears that I actually listen to him for once. The two of us remain that way for what seems like forever, me in my chair and him leaning against the desk in front of it.

Mattheo breaks the silence at last. "Yes," he replies shakily.

"Yes... To what?"

"To all of it."

Then he takes my bucket of lacewing flies, swaps it out for the wings he's already finished plucking off, then sets that bucket down on my desk. "You should leave," he mutters, beginning to work on my pile.

He doesn't have to tell me twice. Not only because I obviously really want to get out of detention, but because- I need to process what he told me just now.

Yes to all of it...

The revelation is almost enough to make me regret having said he's just like his father.

Almost.

Because I should know better than anyone that families that are born dark, stay dark. The cycle never breaks... And there's never getting out.

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