only you mattheo riddle

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**Chapter 4 - Scars and Secrets**

The moment we stepped out of Umbridge's office, the cool dungeon air hit me like a slap. I hadn't realized how stiff my shoulders were until I rolled them, trying to shake off the lingering burn on my hand.

Mattheo fell into step beside me, flexing his fingers like he could still feel the quill digging into his skin. "Well, that was a new level of twisted."

I scoffed. "Welcome to Hogwarts, where education comes second to psychological warfare."

He let out a dry chuckle but didn't argue. Instead, he grabbed my wrist before I could shove my hand into my jacket pocket.

"Oi," I snapped, trying to pull back, but his grip was firm. His thumb brushed over the fresh, angry red cuts on my hand-*I must respect authority* carved into my skin like a sick joke.

His jaw clenched. "She did this on purpose."

"No shit, Riddle. What gave it away? The blood or the sadistic smile?"

He didn't rise to the sarcasm this time. Instead, his grip softened as he traced the wound with his thumb, his expression unreadable.

I should've pulled away. I should've snapped at him for trying to act like he cared. But the way his fingers lingered-gentle, careful, like he wasn't used to handling something fragile-made my throat tighten.

"You should let me clean this," he muttered.

I scoffed. "What, and let you play healer? Please."

"Helena." His voice was lower now, more serious. "That thing is cursed. If you don't take care of it, it won't heal right."

I stared at him. His dark eyes flickered in the dim torchlight, searching my face like he was waiting for me to fight him on it.

For once, I didn't.

"...Fine."

He blinked, like he wasn't expecting me to agree. Then he smirked. "Wow. Didn't even have to threaten you. I'm impressed."

I rolled my eyes. "Shut up before I change my mind."

He led me through the empty corridors, down a passage I didn't usually bother with. "Where are we going?"

"Room of Requirement," he said simply.

I frowned. "You *know* about the Room?"

"Please. You think I'd come to Hogwarts unprepared?"

Fair point.

A few turns later, he stopped in front of a blank stretch of wall. He paced three times, and just like that, the door appeared.

Inside, the room was dimly lit, conjuring a small sitting area with a worn leather couch and a table stocked with basic healing supplies. He grabbed a damp cloth, sat beside me, and without waiting for permission, took my hand again.

I flinched as he dabbed at the wound. "Bloody hell, Riddle."

"Don't be a baby."

"I'll stab you."

He grinned. "Yeah, yeah. Hold still."

His fingers were warm against my skin as he worked, carefully wiping away the dried blood. The silence stretched between us, but for once, it wasn't awkward. It was... easy.

Too easy.

I studied him, trying to figure out what his deal was. "Why do you care?"

He paused, eyes flicking up to meet mine. "About what?"

"This." I gestured at my hand. "About *me*."

Something unreadable passed over his face. Then he smirked. "Maybe I just like breaking rules."

I snorted. "You must be *really* bored if that's your entertainment."

He chuckled, finishing up and wrapping my hand with a strip of bandage. "There. Try not to start any fights for at least a day."

"No promises."

He shook his head, but there was something softer in his expression now. "You know," he said, leaning back, "I think I like you, Lestrange."

I smirked. "Well, that makes one of us."

He just laughed. "Liar."

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