My real enemy / Mattheo Riddle

• TELL ME I'M WRONG AGNES •

"Still want me to leave you alone, Potter?" he asked, his voice dripping with arrogance and something darker.

I didn't answer. I just kissed him again, letting myself get completely lost in him as the rain poured down around us. Nothing else mattered, not the storm, not the cold, not the chaos that seemed to follow him everywhere he went. It was just us, tangled in each other, and for the first time in a long time, I didn't care about anything else.

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After than intense moment the rain was still coming down in sheets, soaking us both to the bone. I could feel the cold seeping into my skin, but Mattheo's presence was all-consuming. He still hadn't let go of my hand, his grip firm yet somehow gentle. His curls were plastered to his forehead, his dark eyes locked onto mine with a mixture of amusement and intensity.

"Why do you keep fighting this?" he asked, his voice low but sharp, cutting through the sound of the rain.

"Fighting what?" I shot back, trying to sound unaffected, but my voice cracked. I pulled my hand away, crossing my arms over my chest as much to block the chill as to shield myself from him.

"You know what," he said, stepping closer. His tone was teasing, but there was an edge to it, like he wasn't in the mood to let me evade him. "You act like you can't stand me, but here we are. Again. You and me, alone. Tell me that's just a coincidence."

"It is" I said quickly, too quickly. "You're the one who's always turning up wherever I am, not the other way around."

"Is that what you tell yourself?" He tilted his head, his wet hair falling into his eyes, and I hated how effortlessly attractive he looked even soaked through. "Because every time you run away, Potter, I catch you looking back."

"I do not," I snapped, the words coming out more defensive than I intended.

He smirked. "You do. You don't want to admit it, but you like this. You like me." His voice dipped lower, and his eyes flicked to my lips for the briefest moment. "You just don't know what to do with it."

"Stop." My heart was pounding now, and I took a step back, but he followed me, closing the distance like it was a game he was determined to win.

"Why?" he asked, his voice softer now but no less intense. "Because I'm right?"

I clenched my jaw, willing myself not to meet his gaze. He was too close, his presence overwhelming, and it was making it impossible to think straight. "You don't know anything about me."

"Don't I?" he said, his tone lighter now, almost playful. "I know you get that little crease between your brows when you're annoyed. I know you bite your lip when you're nervous. And I know you've been thinking about that kiss just as much as I have."

My breath hitched, and his smirk widened like he'd just won a match. Damn him. "You're so full of yourself."

"Maybe." He shrugged, unbothered. "But tell me I'm wrong Agnes"

His words lingered in my mind. I can't because he is not, but I have to because he is not. I glared at him, my hands balling into fists at my sides. "You are wrong," I said, but the words felt hollow, even to me. My heart is pounding, I'm shocked that it hasn't popped out of my chest already. 

For a breath moment we stood there in silence as both of our body's started shivering. 

"God its cold" I say, truthfully with a crisp voice wanting to get out of here, out of the rain.

"And it's getting late. We should head back. You need sleep, and I..." He paused, letting out a dry chuckle. "I need to be in my room early tomorrow for when Snape is going to barge in to scream at me for skipping detention."

I blinked, still caught in the haze of everything that had just happened between us, before letting out a breathy laugh. "Shit. Yeah, you're... so fucked."

Mattheo's grin spread, lazy and unapologetic, the kind of grin that made my stomach twist in ways I didn't want to think about. "This," he said, gesturing casually between the two of us, "is worth being fucked over."

The blush that rushed to my cheeks was instant, the kind of heat that felt impossible to hide. My chest tightened, my thoughts spinning out of control as his words sank in. Worth it. He thought this, me, was worth it? My teeth caught my bottom lip, unbidden and unconscious, the nervous habit I never seemed to notice until...

"See?" Mattheo's voice dropped, teasing and low, his eyes dipping down. "You're biting your lip again."

My breath hitched. I immediately pulled my lip free, though the damage was already done. His gaze lingered, his head tilting slightly like he was studying me, and the corner of his mouth curved into that maddeningly smug smile.

"I wasn't—" I started, but he cut me off.

"You were," he said smoothly, his tone light but undeniably certain. His eyes flicked back up to mine, and for a moment, the air between us felt charged again, like a live wire sparking just beneath the surface.

I tried to roll my eyes, tried to shake off the intensity building in my chest, but I knew he saw through it. He always did. "Let's just go," I muttered, brushing past him to the staircase.

The walk through the castle was quiet, the kind of quiet that felt heavier than silence. The rain was still clinging to my clothes, my damp hair sticking to my skin, but I barely noticed. My focus was on him, on the way his hand brushed against mine as we walked, on the way his shoulders relaxed even in the stillness of the castle, like none of this fazed him. Like he hadn't just kissed me like his life depended on it.

And yet, here we were, walking side by side like nothing had happened. I caught myself sneaking glances at him, trying to make sense of the way his presence felt so natural and yet so overwhelming all at once. Every now and then, I'd catch him looking back at me, his lips quirking into a small smile that made my chest ache in the most infuriating way.

By the time we reached the warmth of the common room, I felt like my mind had run a marathon. My heart was still racing, my thoughts still tangled in the memory of his hands on my waist, the way his lips had felt against mine, the way his voice sounded when he said my name.

Mattheo stopped just before the staircase leading to the girls' dormitory, turning to face me. His expression was softer now, the teasing edge in his eyes replaced with something quieter, something I couldn't quite place.

"Goodnight, Agnes," he said, his voice gentle, like he didn't want to break whatever fragile thing was hanging between us. "Get some sleep, yeah?"

I nodded, but my voice felt stuck in my throat. "Goodnight," I managed, the word coming out softer than I intended.

I hesitated, standing there like an idiot as I searched for something, anything to say that might make sense of this moment. But I didn't have the words. I wasn't even sure what I wanted to say. Mattheo didn't seem to mind. He just smiled, one of those rare, genuine smiles that felt like they were meant for me and no one else. "Sweet dreams, darling," he murmured, and there was something in the way he said it that made my stomach twist all over again.

He turned then, heading toward the boys' dormitory, his footsteps soft against the worn carpet. I stood there for a moment, watching him disappear up the stairs, my chest feeling tight and light all at once. My lips still tingled, the ghost of his kiss lingering there like a secret I didn't know how to keep. And as I turned to head up to my own dormitory, my thoughts spinning and my heart refusing to calm down, one thing became painfully clear. I was in so much trouble.

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